Facing the Facade

Scriptural Docetism: How Our View of the Bible Can Contradict the Incarnation

2012-01-18T12:02:00.001-05:00

If you have ever read up on theology, or even if you haven't, you might have come across the word "docetism." Coming from the Greek word dokein, which means "to appear" or "to seem," docetism is a heresy dating back to the time of the early church which claimed that Jesus Christ only appeared or seemed to be human. The consequences of such thinking was/is drastic. If Jesus only appears as human but really is not--think of a divine ghost appearing human-like--then the Incarnation, the belief that Jesus is truly human and truly divine, is false. And if the Incarnation is false, our salvation in Christ is suspect. To paraphrase and condense much of the thinking of the early church fathers, "only that which is truly human and truly divine can save."

For one reason or another, the Incarnation--as a doctrine, as a belief, or whatever--has been ignored by people through time. The Eastern church was and is remarkable in not ignoring it, of course, but much of the West has ignored it or at least made it inferior to the Crucifixion or the Resurrection. I am not going to debate which is more important--I think you need all of them. What I want to claim however is that it was a result of a deficient view of the Incarnation that has led many modern day Christians into another form of docetism--this time regarding the Holy Scriptures. That is to say, without a proper consideration of the Incarnation, Christians have lifted the status of the Bible to a place where it only appears to be human. Even more devastating, many Christians make claims about the nature of the Bible that place it on par or above what the church believes in the Incarnation! (Peter Enns has a wonderful book explaining the proper place of Scripture in view of the Incarnation.)

In claiming that many believe in a scriptural docetism, I am saying that many Christians view the Bible as only appearing to be human. In other words, the Bible appears to be human, but really it is divine, in all that it says and represents. The words, the language, the style, and every other linguistic feature, may appear to be a human creation or product, but in reality the Bible is divine.

I do not really know what is so appealing in such a view. I would venture the guess that for many this seems to provide a more sure foundation for the claim that one can hear God speak through the Bible. The logic seems simple enough: if the Bible is divine, then one can hear God's voice in it.

The problem, as I see it, is that one does not need the Bible to be divine in order for one to hear God's voice in it. Philosophically, that argument would be non sequitur, in that the premise ("the Bible is divine") does not necessitate the conclusion ("that one can hear God's voice in it").

To be clear, I am not making the claim that one cannot hear God's voice in Scripture. In fact, I believe that you can--and will! I believe this because Scripture, above anything else, is the supreme witness to the revelation of Christ. What I am saying is that even if Scripture were divine, a person will not necessarily hear the voice of God in it. (For instance, your sin or your finitude can block you from hearing God's voice or comprehending it).

The claim that Scripture is divine is rooted, more often than not, in the effort to make the Bible a source of inspiration to followers of Christ. I can understand the motive but the expression in which it results denies what we claim in the Incarnation. In essence, what this creates is "cognitive dissonance"--or, in more common language, the ability for a person to say or believe things that are mutually contradictory without realizing it.

In our case, some Christians believe so firmly in the divinity of the Bible that it gains status equal to that of Christ. What's worse is that it then adds to this status the belief that the Bible only appears to be human. So in two maneuvers--claiming Scripture is divine and denying its human dimension--Christians have given the Bible a status equal to the Incarnation and followed the pattern of heretics during the time of the early church.

So yeah, that's a problem. A BIG problem.

Only Christ is fully human and fully divine. This is what the Chacedonian Creed (451 C.E.) tried to affirm. (I emphasize "tried" because, historically speaking, it did not really convince everyone at the time of its legitimacy).

With Scripture we must claim it is fully human (contra scriptural docetism) but we do not need to also claim it is divine. Put simply, Christ is one person with two natures, human and divine. Scripture, with this in mind, cannot have a divine nature (to affirm that it does would be idolatry). Indeed, to use the adjective divine to describe the Bible is insufficient period. We call scripture "Holy" but not "Divine." And what we affirm in calling it "holy" is not that it is holy in itself but that God speaks through it and has chosen this book, above any other medium, to speak to us.

A better view of the Incarnation of Christ steers us away from confusion regarding the Bible. It also helps us to make sense of the scope and purpose of the Bible--since it is all about testifying to Christ.

To affirm the human dimension of Scripture is not to demean it. Instead, when viewed with the Incarnation in mind, we can affirm that the fallibility or human quality of Scripture does not undermine God's ability to speak through it. The Incarnation, after all, is about Christ taking on our flesh, our humanness, without sacrificing His divinity, all in an effort to redeem us and proclaim His Kingdom in our midst. With this we can trust in Scripture because God not only can become human, fully so, and redeem us but he can speak through a human book, fully so, and inspire us.

If you are looking for a miracle, then the best place to look is the Incarnation because in it we realize that we do not need to deny our humanness in order to be in contact with divinity. God has bridged that divide in becoming human and choosing Scripture to inspire us.

We therefore do not need scriptural docetism because it does not provide what Christ can.

Emerging Adulthood: Does the Church Prepare Young People to Face the World?

2012-01-05T17:33:00.000-05:00

A few years ago, during college, my wife, Rachel (then, my girlfriend), and I experienced our first real challenge as a couple: joining a church and establishing identities as Christian young adults. The reason that this was a challenge for both of us, instead of one of us, is that we were going through the same spiritual confusion about our respective Christian identities at the same time. That we were not married at the time seemed to lessen the difficulty (especially if we ended up on different spiritual paths) but to also make it more difficult (since we did not have something, like a marriage, to force us to be diligent in our endeavors). And I believe that our spiritual confusion at the time was evident in the fact that we never actually established a church-home close to our college (Anderson University), though we certainly tried out many of them.

The funny thing is that all of this was occurring as I was preparing to become a minister. Actually it wasn't that funny at the time; I spent many years obtaining my degree only to question in the end if I had done the right thing in choosing ministry. (If you have ever experienced the same thing in college then you know exactly what I am talking about). Now, after years of sorting out my spiritual confusion, I can look back on that time with humor--which is why my decision to go to Seminary 'to sort things out' was one of the best decisions I have ever made (second only to marrying my wife, of course).

So, towards the end of our collegiate careers, Rachel and I experienced a serious challenge to our identities as Christians which, thankfully, inclined us to search for answers. That we felt the need to search for answers was a good thing, especially if you consider that some young adult Christians encounter this challenge without any real concern. That is, they either ignore it or fall away completely without any afterthought.   When we entered this pursuit for answers we did so without knowing where to look and where to find them, or, even more importantly, if they existed at all. This path was perilous and intimidating but it was a path we knew we had to take.

You might be wondering at this point what the challenge was for Rachel and I (and for most of the young adult Christians I know). I would, after all, be remiss if I neglected to reveal what this problem was after such a long preface detailing the particular context of our situation. If I were to put the challenge into the simplest question I could think of, it would be this: "Who am I as a Christian?" At first glance, it seems like a simple question that some would not have much difficulty answering. But for Rachel and I, who struggled with this against newly realized revelations about ourselves and the world that we lived in (as opposed to the world we were presented with in high school), this question posed tremendous difficulty and extreme consternation. Different issues--such as evolution, worship, theology, reliability of the Scriptures, etc.--all influenced whether we could answer this question as genuinely as possible, and in many ways they made our situation more frustrating and difficult.

The issues themselves, however, were not the problem. This is why I think it is utterly bogus when people pretend that they are. I think this is because the assumption that these issues--like evolution or women in ministry--are important relies too much on the false impression that the Christian life is one of stable, pure fun or that it is one in which one can live our their lives without changing in the slightest. (Ah! I want to pull my hair out every time I hear someone talk this way). Sure, some Christians will grant that you might go through troubled times or that one needs to continually grow as a disciple of Christ (sanctification, anyone?); but it seems to me that the church does a real good job of giving off the impression that the faith you leave high school with is the same one you will carry with you for the rest of your life without any change. There are some people that do, but many do not. (Personally, I think your faith must grow and evolve. This explains why I distrust some Christians when they never grow in their faith or claim to have never experienced spiritually confusing times beyond simple questions of spiritual discernment).

Obviously, we (Rachel and I) encountered this challenge as individuals from different angles and to differing degrees of stress and intensity. As an example, I entered in from a more intellectual standpoint, whereas Rachel entered it struggling with Christians who came off as consumeristic, disingenuous and not authentic (People on TBN would be a good example of the type of Christians Rachel had problems with if you needed an example; Kirk Cameron in particular).

What we held in common, however, was that we were going to be as honest and as authentic as we possibly could be in finding an answer to our challenge. Indeed, if we did not find an answer, we were not going to pretend like we did find one or try to explain away our challenge as a mere mirage or illusion. We were going to confront it head on; and wherever we ended up was the place we were going to stay as individuals and as a couple. (Unless you were wondering, I will ease your suspense by saying that we each did indeed find our answer, albeit in our own unique ways. This is why we can say with honesty to this day who we are in Christ and also actively participate in a great church that we love dearly).

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I believe that this is a situation that presents itself to all Christians who graduate from high school as Christians and, even if they do not attend college, find themselves in places that challenge their worldview and their faith. I will admit that for some this situation does not present itself right away; adolescence can extend, after all, for a long time after graduation as many of us know all to well. At any rate, as twenty-somethings, or even thirty-somethings, we all go through what is now termed by professional sociologists as "emerging adulthood". This period which can (now) last up to two decades, depending on the person, is a period in which young adults try to reconcile their growing sense of self with the world that they discover beyond that of their family of origin and hometown (James Fowler in his book "Stages of Faith" calls this the 'Individuative-Reflective' stage).

All young adults, not just Christians, encounter "emerging adulthood" but the reason that I bring it up is that Christians very often experience this period as a time of spiritual confusion and/or detachment. The reason why is that, usually, as people expand their sense of self and their view of the world, certain things that they held true or believed to be true come under consideration for evaluation. Faith is just one of these things. And it makes sense that for Christians who form their identity, their very self, around Christ, to bring their faith under consideration as emerging adults. This conclusion should be fairly obvious and easy to accept.

The problem that added much difficulty to our (Rachel and I) pursuit of forming Christian identities as emerging adults was that the church was not prepared to handle us. Yeah, there were churches that offered young adult ministries, but all of them felt too much like high school youth group all over again to warrant our attentions and time. We must have tried several churches but none seemed to provide what we were looking for. The closest we came was to an AME church which, despite all of its appeal as a vibrant community, did not really match who we were as young adults. Our struggle, in not finding a church, then became one much larger than "Who am I in Christ?" Instead it became "Why is going to church so difficult?"

One would have assumed that at least our friends in college would have helped. The problem is, they were either going through the same thing as us, and were having difficulty themselves, or they were one of those who either ignored the problem or just fell away from faith completely. The latter two were especially unhelpful.

I have a theory--and I cannot empirically substantiate it this at this point, so you have to take it with a grain of salt--that most emerging adults, while they might vary in how they encounter the two questions about identity and church, have great difficulty with their identity as Christians or going to church. The reason, very simply, is that the church has not done a real good job at preparing students for this stage of life. Granted, the church cannot be blamed for everything--since society changes at a rate that seems faster than the speed of light at times--but there are things that we could do better as the church. Churches certainly recognize this as a problem because many (including the one I serve at) struggle with the attendance of people in this age group. Even the emerging adults that do attend church usually attend very large churches or churches that do not demand much of their time and involvement. In fact, we usually do not solve this problem--we just wait until they have children and come back to the church!

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I have noticed, however, that many Christians I have talked to, who have gone through emerging adulthood just as Rachel and I, have not had quite the struggle that we did. What I have observed, and I could not identify what it was until very recently, is that they all came from communities or churches that did a good job of preparing for this stage of life. Whether they did so intentionally or not is a different question but there seemed to be something about the communities that allowed them to experience emerging adulthood without the spiritual confusion or detachment.

Christian Smith, in his book The Bible Made Impossible: Why Biblicism is Not a Truly Evangelical Reading of Scripture, touches upon something that explains what these churches are doing right. I will point out that in what I have read of this book (I have not finished it yet) Smith does not directly identify churches that prepare young adults for emerging adulthood. What he has done is identify reasons why communities that haven fallen prey to biblicism (something he believes is undermining evangelicalism) are not willing to expand beyond their stagnant situation (and genuinely deal with what he calls "pervasive interpretive pluralism"). Since this post is not about biblicism per se (though I think it is a problem that emerging adults deal with), I have taken his observations as a sociologist and inferred from them some reasons why churches are not doing a good job at preparing youth for emerging adulthood. (You can read more on this in chapter 3 of his book).

What concerns Smith is that even when presented with countering viewpoints that bring serious questions to the table most biblicists seems to ignore or dismiss the questions or the viewpoints as a whole. I have taken his analysis as to why biblicists do these things and have broadened it to describe the types of churches that do a bad job at preparing youth for emerging adulthood below:

1. Homophily (pg. 60) -- This means that people have a tendency to gather around themselves people who are similar to them. Why this is a problem, as it relates to emerging adults, is that youth are not presented with alternate perspectives which help to broaden their own perspectives. One should not take this to mean that gathering with like-minded people is necessarily a negative thing. Homophily affects all of us in one way or another, even the most diverse and open-minded ones, who claim to accept and tolerate anyone of any culture or worldview. What I think Smith is alluding to is that people who actively pursue only people like them have a difficult time learning things outside of their box.

Where this is detrimental for many young people is that when they do learn something outside of the box or encounter people that challenge their perspective on things, they react instinctively and flippantly with fight or flight. People who fight, further entrench themselves in their homophilic faith, and seek out others like them. People who resort to flight, however, abandon their faith, since it has no defense, and leave the church. Either option is not good. For this reason, churches that actively pursue a balance of homophily and diversity give young people a faith that can withstand the sociological pressures of emerging adulthood.

2. Us vs. Them (pg. 62) -- Along with homophily is the tendency for some churches to entrench themselves in an 'us vs. them' identity. Smith notes two consequences of such an identity. One, churches need "others" with whom they define themselves against to remain in order for them to exist. This essentially means that some churches are so antagonistic towards outsiders or people with differences that they define themselves in such a way that makes these outsiders necessary for identity. Two, churches that take on this identity make it difficult for them to truly understand where "others" are coming from. The logic here is quite simple: "if you are not with us, you are against us, and we do not want to have anything to do with you."

Where this creates problems for young people is that it presents them with only two options, or what philosophers would call a 'fasle dichotomy.'    For instance, if you have grown up thinking that you have to choose between Theistic creationism or Atheistic evolution, then your only option, if you find evolutionary theory appealing, is to abandon theism or your Christian faith. This, in essence, is what is wrong with the 'us vs. them' identity; when one grows cognitively, morally, and spiritually one is forced or trapped into a dangerous logic that leads to destruction. For this reason, churches that have an identity that avoids 'us vs. them' acquire a spiritual dimension that translates easily as young people transition into emerging adulthood.

3. Cognitive Transivity (pg. 64) -- This is perhaps the most confusing because it sounds overly academic. Essentially, however, what Smith means is that for some churches there is a tendency to associate "unity" with some other word that they deem as bad, like "ecumenism" or "tolerance" or "acceptance." This then leads, just like the point above, to another false dichotomy: unity vs. truth.

The church I grew up in had this problem. I love that church and those people very sincerely but I found that most of the conversations about theology or the church ended up in a 'unity vs. truth' dichotomy. The argument that many people made was that because we should stand for biblical truth we don't need unity--especially with people who differ from us in their thinking and lifestyle. I tried and tried to convince many of my fellow parishioners that truth with out unity is narcissitic and delusional (by extension, unity without truth is baseless and shallow). But, unfortunately, it never stuck (probably because of number 1 and 2). Indeed, unity and truth cannot be divided in the first place. Additionally, I seem to recall Jesus praying "that they may be one" not "that they may have truth so as to create division"  (John 17:21)

Where this creates a problem with young people is that they do not know what true community looks like. All they know is the divisive, homogeneous culture that tried to pass itself off as community. Dare I say it but you cannot spell community without 'unity'. For this reason, young people need a strong and vital community that will leave them hungering more for loving others and proclaiming the gospel without rejecting diversity.

4. Fear (pg. 64) --The lease confusing, and most obvious, reason why churches have a difficult time accepting differences or broadening perspectives is simply a result of fear. This point, in particular, I can empathize with, even if it causes people to do things that drive me berserk! Some Christians have difficulty in seeing the world 'outside the box' because their is this fear that if they do open up, error, bad morals, the devil, and all sorts of bad things will creep inside. While I can understand how taking a step into the unknown brings with it anxieties that challenge one in ways that seem insufferable, this could all be much easier if we realized that the purpose of the church, as a body of people, is to support, encourage and heal one other in our individual difficulties. In an individualistic culture, this is difficult to do because we are taught to rely on our own merits or our own faith in God to get by instead of relying on the faith of the community to help us through.

Where fear debilitates young people is precisely in not allowing them to see that, yes, "fear will always be here," but despite this, "you are not alone!" For this reason, young people need to know and experience the faith of a community, a faith which, empowered by the Holy Spirit, can laugh, cry, fall down, and weep all the while trusting in Jesus Christ to provide.

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So how did Rachel and I make it through our problem and come to an answer for our situation? Well, I wish I could say it was just one thing, and that this thing will help anyone with a similar problem. The truth is, however, it was a combination of things. For me personally--since I will not speak on the behalf of Rachel--it was a combination of people around me experiencing the same things, the Emerging Church movement, a mentor from India (his perspective helped tremendously), and prayer. All of these were very instrumental in getting me through my spiritual confusion.

That I include the Emerging Church will puzzle some and make sense to others. While I am certainly indebted to the Emerging Church movement (or conversation, whatever you want to call it), I think it was less what the theology was and more that many of the people in this movement were like me--emerging adults disgruntled and upset that the church had injured us theologically and spiritually. Incidentally, I would think it would be worth exploring the connection between the Emergent movement and emerging adulthood in more detail.

The question in the title of this post asks if the church prepares young people to face the world. I don't know if I can answer the question as stated, but I do know that the church certainly can prepare young people for the world. And even if the church does fail in this regard, we have the hope that the Holy Spirit will keep us going, fighting the fight, racing the race (2 Tim. 4:7) until we meet our end in Christ. But let's not leave it only to hope; let's do something about it!

My Favorite Albums of 2011: "Math, Helplessness, Halocene and Resistance"

2011-12-20T15:06:00.000-05:00

When I listen to music, I do not merely listen passively, naively. I binge; I indulge. Strangely enough, my consumption of music, tending to excess, is quite fastidious; that is, I won't listen to just anything. My taste, as far as I can tell, is pretty expansive. The form of the music does not matter; jazz, metal, indie, you name it, I will listen, and I will keep listening as long as I find the experience edifying and expansive.

I want to be challenged, inspired, liberated, repulsed and energized by music. And I want it all. I don't just want to be repulsed, obviously, because I want to keep listening to a song. I want to be liberated and energized as well.

It is all about the experience.

Cultivating taste is merely a means to achieve the best experience possible. Without taste, our music-listening-experience is trivialized, rudderless and malformed.

Taste is a good guide but it does not guarantee success. Music is a risky business; as it should be. But listening to music is a worthy risk, one that should cultivate understanding and courage, all the while inspiring us to enjoy beauty in all of its manifestations--art, literature, theater, film, nature, among others.

Music forms the backdrop and the foreground of my life's tableau. I want this tableau to reflect me but I also want it to beckon me further into the context of the other and the abyss of the unknown. The picture may not be complete but at least it is defined on its own terms, on my terms. Music is a choice, not a mere consumption.

There were several albums that challenged, inspired, liberated, repulsed and energized me in 2011. The ones that I have given on this list are in no particular order since I despise "best-of" lists. But they are all albums that were released in 2011, and found their way to my ears, via speakers or headphones, on more than one occasion. In addition you will notice that I have included several albums that were not released in 2011 but are albums that I either discovered, re-discovered, or, for some reason or another, I could not stop listening to this year. (Note: Instead of a write-up about the band/album, I have provided a link to the music by clicking on the title of the artist. This link should bring you to my favorite song off of the album. The reason I provide a link instead of a write up is, as they say, the music speaks for itself).

Enjoy.

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M83 "Hurry Up, We're Dreaming"

Bon Iver "Bon Iver"

The Vaccines "What Did You Expect from the Vaccines"

Fleet Foxes "Helplessness Blues"

Tombs "Path to Totality"

Mastodon "The Hunter"

Manchester Orchestra "Simple Math"

King Creosote and Jon Hopkins "Diamond Mine"

Gideon "Costs"

Yob "Atma"

Krallice "Diotima"

Ulcerate "The Destroyers of All"

St. Vincent "Strange Mercy"

Thrice "Major/Minor"

Josh Garrels "Love & War & The Sea in Between"

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The Classics that I Discovered or Re-Discovered

Rainbow "Rising"

Bruce Springsteen "Darkness on the Edge of Town"

Miles Davis "Kind of Blue"

Reclaiming Mystery in Youth Ministry: How the Trinity is Our Only Hope

2011-12-16T15:17:00.000-05:00

This post ends a series of posts I have written on how youth ministry can be saved. You can read the first one on discipleship here and the second on faith here.

It has become something of a fad within youth ministry in the last couple decades to reintroduce mystery in ministry. These 're-introductions,' if you will, have focused on practices (prayer, lectio divina), leadership approaches (contemplative ministry) and general modes or methods of doing ministry (presence-centered ministry, for example).

In calling these various approaches re-introductions, instead of merely introductions, I am noting that these approaches are borrowing from practices that have been useful in churches, and for Christians, throughout the history of the church but for one reason or another have fallen out of practice in more recent history. I only note this because there are people out there who view these re-introductions as something unorthodox, even heretical, because they have been out of use for so long. The truth is, these re-introductions have a greater claim to orthodoxy than many modern approaches to ministry.

All of these re-introductions have had the same goal in mind: grounding ministry more in the mysterious presence of God. Thus, instead of viewing ministry as a programmatic effort to merely pass on information about God, these approaches have made the effort to see ministry more as a function of relating to God.

Tony Jones ("Postmodern Youth Ministry"), Kenda Creasy Dean ("Practicing Passion"), Mike King ("Presence-Centered Youth Ministry") and Mike Yaconelli ("Contemplative Youth Ministry") have all contributed to this effort. What they have done, at least in my mind, is nothing short of amazing. They not only identified a hunger that students (and their parents and pastors) have but they offered helpful ways of approaching ministry so that the process of integrating mystery in ministry is easier for those tied up with endless responsibilities within their respective congregations or ministries.

In a certain sense you could argue that this goal of grounding youth in the presence of God has always been there. Every church, and every ministry within and without, has this goal (or should!). Youth ministries, as evidenced in their passionate energy for "getting-to-know-God," have had this goal for quite some time.

There are, as in every situation, ministries that defy the rule, i.e. ministries that are not concerned about grounding their life in the presence of God. For me personally, these ministries defy what ministry is about, and therefore forfeit their status as 'ministry.' This is why I can comfortably make the universal judgment that "all ministries have the goal of grounding people in the presence of God" since to be a ministry in the first place this has to be a hallmark of your identity.

For this reason you can say that even Jim Burns and Doug Fields have had this goal in mind in doing their work. The uniqueness of the more recent approaches, however, is not that this goal is particularly primary for Jones, Dean, et al., but that this goal is given a more theologically robust status within their work than say the work of Burns, Fields, et al.

Readers should note that I am not trying to denigrate the work of Burns and Fields in making this observation. In fact, many could argue that without the work of Burns and Fields the more theologically robust views of youth ministry might not have arisen in the first place (and I do not merely mean this in a negative sense either). Indeed, I think the more recent work of Jones, Dean, et al. is not mutually exclusive with the work of Burns and Fields but a greater articulation and clarification of what they were attempting to get at.

To say that the "re-introductions" of mystery to ministry practice are more theologically robust is to make the claim that it is the nature of these works to ground the discussion in a more theologically reflective enterprise than a sociological, psychological, or anthropological enterprise of their forebearers. This is not to deny any evidence of theology in the works of Burns and Fields but to say that the work done in the "re-introductions" is more expressly so. This is why Andy Root can speak of the theological turn in youth ministry.

Given that these re-introductions are much more appealing and have been much more profitable (especially in my own ministry), I want to bring to light why it is that mystery is so essential to ministry. It is easy to see why the presence of God is important; indeed there would be no ministry without it. But to understand mystery as a vital aspect of youth ministry, or all ministry for that matter, is not as obvious.

Some clarification is warranted about what I mean concerning mystery before we proceed any further. We will begin with what it is not and then move onto what it is.

First of all, mystery should not be confused with willful naivete. What I mean is that mystery is not contained in saying "No one knows what God is like, therefore we shouldn't try to understand God since we could never understand Him fully" In my experience, this is what people typically mean by something, especially God, being mysterious. It is certainly true that God defies explanation but this does not give us the excuse to just let the matter rest. (This is something I argued against--with much frustration-- in a prior post). Mystery, therefore, is not an excuse to be willfully ignorant; it should be seen, rather, as an invitation to be willfully amazed by a God who defies all understanding.

Second, saying something or someone is mysterious should not lead us to project anything we want on that thing or person. This, to be sure, can have disastrous consequences when this is done in talk about God. Foremost among these consequences is the idea that "all ideas lead to God," as if, since no one person can claim to have more knowledge of God than another, we can all make God who we want Him to be. Examples of such thinking are everywhere and they proliferate at breakneck speed among those who "accept everything and contest nothing": God is in every human? Sure. God is a giant teapot in the sky? Of course, it doesn't matter. God is energy? Yeah. God is an alien? Weird, but I can accept it.

These are undoubtedly some strange examples but in a world that accepts everything and contests nothing this is what you are led to: chaos and destruction.

Mystery, in contrast, is all about identity because without identity everything gets confused. Imagine for instance if I went around claiming that the rocks, the trees, the sky, and everything in between, is "my wife, Rachel." First of all, I would (and should) be committed for thinking and acting out on such things. Secondly, my wife is going to get upset because my actions are willfully hurtful. This is because identity is important for relationships. What makes my relationship with my wife so special is that it is only identified with the person, body and soul, who is Rachel and not just anything else in nature.

The same holds true for God. We have to have some idea of what we are talking about because, if we are confused about His identity, we live in open disobedience to who it is that gives us life (Deut. 5:8-10). As the Bible warns us, we have made an idol out of God by fashioning him in whatever image suits us. Making God out of any image that suits us, arises out of our propensity for idolatry, which is based in our fear of the unknown, of our discomfort in being presented with something Wholly Other.

Mystery is therefore all about identity because if it is not we can easily fall into idolatry. Maintaining identity against idolatry is necessary for to uphold the true nature of mystery but it is not particularly easy to do with God, especially for humans who have the propensity to make idols out of things.

This is why mystery is upheld by dynamic tensions. Yeah, I know, that sounds quite philosophical. All that I mean with it, however, is that mystery cannot be maintained unless there is some tension in how we define it. For instance, mystery via identity is contained in the following tensions:

Openness and Closedness (for our approach)

Known and Unknown (for our knowledge)

Satisfied and Unsatisfied (for our spiritual state)

Developed and Developing (for our spiritual growth)

Amazed and Confused (for our sense of wonder)

I wish I could go into more detail about these dynamic tensions that maintain our appreciation of mystery but that would fall outside of the goal of this post, to explain why mystery is essential for ministry. I think it is helpful to mention them though because this helps us to know what it is we mean with mystery, even if we have not fully considered them in their entirety.

What makes mystery so essential to ministry is that enjoying or entering the presence of God demands that we be prepared. Just what we are prepared for depends upon the mystery of God; indeed it is the nature of mystery that we cannot say for sure what it is that we are to be prepared for. And yet, we know that this mystery is spoken to us and revealed to us as the Triune God.

That the Triune God speaks and reveals is a relief to those wearied by the thought that we might get God wrong. Furthermore, and more importantly, it demands that we depend upon the Triune God to do the speaking and the revealing.

This is what mystery is all about.

But this does not quite answer our original question, which concerns why is mystery essential for ministry, outside of merely demonstrating that God is a mystery and our faith requires this belief.

To make it as simple as possible: if we are to affirm the mystery of the Triune God, we must then affirm that our ministry is a mystery as a result of our relationship to the Triune God.

This means....

As God is a living mutual, dynamic interrelationship of three persons, so identified as the Triune God, the nature of our ministry not merely mimics or imitates this dynamic relationship but participates in it.

Our ministry, with youth, adults or children, is a mysterious enterprise exactly for this reason. And so we come to the mysterious claim that our ministry makes us the church and being a part of the church makes us ministers, not because of any power we can claim for ourselves but because our ministry as the church is done within the life of the Triune God.

Mystery is vital simply because it invites us to enter into relationship with the Triune God. For this reason, I firmly believe that without the Triune God we have no ministry. Just any God will not do. It must be the Triune God, or no God at all, because the Triune God gives us life and the ability to participate in His works.

This is why the re-introductions I spoke of before, done by Jones, Dean, et al., have been so successful. It is not that they merely uncovered century-old practices or ideals; it is that they opened the conversation that youth ministry should be having with the Triune God. This is what has made all the difference in the world and the lives of teenagers.

So we can end this post, and the series on how to save youth ministry, by saying "God will save youth ministry." But better yet, we can say "the Triune God will save youth ministry.

After all, that is what discipleship, faith and mystery enable us to say with delightful conviction.

Total Depravity: Do We Need It? An Initial Reappraisal and Reflection

2011-12-07T13:29:00.001-05:00

The course of our lives makes many turns, both predictable and unpredictable, intended and unintended, in such a way that makes life both dynamic and beautiful. The consequences of such turns, depending upon the disposition of the person, can be viewed as surprisingly negative or surprisingly positive, especially if the consequences are a result of something unprepared for or unintended.

This is how I often find myself--surprised, that I not only stumble upon things accidentally but that in the process of doing so I almost feel as if it has been destined by providence or a coincidence of fate.

Reading is the typical arena, in my life, where this experience is regular. I cannot explain how it is that my reading habits, which vary day by day, can lead me on many delightfully similar journeys. For instance, and this is the reason why I bring up this subject, I am constantly amazed that in choosing two books (or three, or four) at random how much they coincide, speak of the same issues, or respond to similar questions. It is like my choosing at random was somehow destined; of course, if they were really destined then they could not have been random, but they certainly feel that way. How can that be explained?

I am not sure it can. And I am not sure I want to even attempt such a feat--especially in this post.

The reason I bring up the reality of life's many turns is that in reflecting upon how I was going to teach "total depravity"--the doctrine that humanity is corrupted by original sin--to my youth I was led to a new consideration of it based upon my experience with two books I am reading, both of which are not directly related to this issue. The first is Alvin Plantinga's "God, Freedom and Evil" and the second is Robert Jenson's second volume of his "Systematic Theology."

I will not go into too much detail concerning how these books affected my consideration of total depravity but generally I will say that Plantinga informed my method and Jenson the content. If you have read either of these books, this will be more evident in what follows. If you have not read either, do not worry, it isn't necessary to have read these books because I only mention them as sources for inspiration in how I have constructed my reflection on total depravity.

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The problem with the doctrine (if we can call it that) of total depravity is that its history is too convoluted to really speak of it without alienating or disregarding how certain people have thought about it. Essentially, this means that the doctrine has meant many things to different people--Lutheran, Calvinist and Arminian, to name a few. In fact, Catholics do not even have a treatment of it because it does not figure much in their interpretation of Augustine. So any notion that the doctrine of total depravity has universal appeal will be destined for failure.

It is also evident that the doctrine of total depravity lacks universal appeal, especially in contemporary society, because it attempts to affirm things about human nature that some would rather ignore and others would repudiate out of sheer repugnance. Let's be honest: total depravity is not the most jovial of topics to think about let alone discuss with willing (or unwilling) partners.

Some Christians today do not even broach the topic of total depravity for the reasons I just listed. Not all people believe in it; not all people like it; and not all people think it is necessary for the Christian faith. That last claim is especially curious. How is total depravity unnecessary? Is it unnecessary in the way it has been defined? It is unnecessary for our view of evil? Or, even more dangerously, do we need it if there is no such thing as evil?

In response to these questions I want to say that while it is unnecessary in the way it is defined it is still necessary in identifying the existence of evil and the fact that our salvation depends upon God. I will explain this more later. Particularly, what I want to argue in this post is that the so-called doctrine of total depravity is a confluence of several Christian ideas (salvation by faith, the existence of evil, etc.) that are true in their own right but--through various historical factors--have been distorted and wickedly expressed in the doctrine of total depravity. This is why those who believe in the doctrine of total depravity are apt to label those who reject it as "heretics" because--based on the way the doctrine has been formulated--they assume that to reject this doctrine is to reject salvation by faith, the reality of sin or the existence of evil.

Let it be clear up front: my issue is with how this doctrine has been used not necessarily with the Christian ideas that are expressed through it.

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Any discussion of total depravity must begin with a definition even if it is deemed insufficient later on. The reason is that one must begin somewhere, and as long as it is in the general vicinity of what is truly the case, we can be assured that our discussion will be profitable.

Let's break it apart. First, we will discuss "total." The word "total" has various usage and can mean anything from "the total number of people in Ms. Smith's classroom is 34" (sum), "the total package for DIRECTV includes HBO and Showtime" (entirety or complete), or "I totaled my car" (damage). Let's assume, for this post, that only the second one--entirety or complete--is the appropriate meaning for our discussion of total deprativy, this way we avoid a lengthy consideration of why the others do not work.

Second, the word "depravity." This word, with moral dimensions, focuses on the constitution of something. As such, a depraved thing would be "corrupted," "wicked," or "perverse." It seems to me that, for our discussion, any of these meanings would do because they all express the essence of depravity. There may be more synonyms that work but let's just stick with these for simplicity's sake.

Likewise for simplicity's sake let's begin with the assumption that depravity is both a result and disposition. The difference is that whereas result focuses on the fact that something has been corrupted or perverted, disposition focuses on the fact that that very thing now has a corruptible, wicked and perverted disposition. The reason I include both is that result carries with it the connotation that it can be transmitted or passed on, while disposition reflects the idea that depravity, if it is to be true to its definition, must express a proclivity to do evil. (In biblical/theological language, result is typically identified by "The Fall" and disposition by "Original Sin").

Also, since total depravity is applied to humans and not anything else, it is worth mentioning that the word total can refer to the human nature in its entirety. Let's just say, for the sake of argument, that all there is to humans is: spirit, mind (will) and body. Thus, if we speak of total depravity, we are saying something about the whole human nature not just aspects or parts of it. This says nothing about the degree to which this is true; it merely states that all of the human is affected by and with depravity.

As such, a definition based upon the breakdown of these two words, and the fact that depravity is both a result and a disposition, when applied to humans would be something like this (let's call it P):

P: The resulting disposition in human nature that causes humans to do evil.

I am sure there will be some who will quibble about what "resulting disposition" means or what "evil" or "causes" means. Again, as I said before, I merely want to get the ball rolling on this discussion. This definition is only temporary.

In fact, it won't even last for another paragraph before it must be amended. This is because this definition may account for the origin of evil in humans, yet it says nothing about good or whether or not humans can do good. To account for good, therefore, let's amend P with P1.

P1: The resulting disposition in human nature that causes humans to do evil and not do good.

P1 is not only more comprehensive than P in including the issue of "good" with "evil" but it also expresses the reality of depravity much more sufficiently than P. That is to say, depravity is not just an account of doing evil things but a rationale for why doing the good feels so impossible (just read Romans 7, if you want an example of this).

And yet, something is not quite right with P1, despite its superiority to P. Most people that believe in total depravity will allow room for the human to do some moral good. For instance, some might argue that while "John helped feed the poor" is an example of a person doing good it does not diminish or repudiate the fact that John is naturally totally depraved. It certainly seems, in that respect, that for total depravity to be defensible and reasonable it must allow for humans doing some good. Otherwise, we not only have a definition that defies reality but something that denies humanhood in the first place.

Based on how people traditionally define total depravity, let's offer another definition (we'll call it P2 for continuity's sake):

P2: The resulting disposition in human nature that causes humans to do evil and not do the Ultimate good.

This definition is far superior to the first two in that it fully expresses the nature of depravity and clarifies what type of good it cannot do, namely the Ultimate good. Here, as in traditional accounts of total depravity, the Ultimate good is related to God, wherein God is the Ultimate and the good is designated as our attempts to "choose," "be in relationship with" or "be reconciled to."

In good ole Calvinist fashion, P2 affirms the inability of humanity to accomplish salvation on their own. Indeed, this is what the whole Augustinian tradition, since Augustine's repudiation of Pelagianism, has tried to demonstrate with total depravity. It is not, for that matter, just a simple anthropological statement for the sake of anthropology; it is an anthropological statement for the sake of soteriology (the doctrine of salvation).

Augustine, Calvin, Luther, and yes, even John Wesley used total depravity for the sake of salvation not only appearing but being the work of God and God alone. These figures may have differed in how they understood how God's role, and subsequently our role, is played out in the drama of salvation but the fact remains that total depravity, as it has been formulated throughout the years, has been in defence of the claim that God accomplishes salvation for humanity.

This is how we should understand total depravity--even if we have not considered every angle as of yet.

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What is alarming in all of this is that if salvation (soteriology) is the motivation behind formulations of total depravity we have to wonder how genuine and true it is to the biblical text. Of course, scholars have long noted how disparate the Augustinian account of Original Sin and the Genesis account in chapter 3 are with one another. So we could choose to evaluate the tradition forming total depravity from the biblical account alone, and this by itself would be quite profitable, as many scholars have demonstrated.

For my purpose here, however, I think it is more beneficial to test total depravity in view of the biblical narrative, particularly Genesis chapter 1, but more so in light of the Triune God (this is where Robert Jenson comes in, in case you were wondering).

But to get to this point we must put our last definition, the one that was most satisfactory, to the test one final time to guarantee its truthfulness. What I am suggesting we do is test this definition by seeing if our inability to do the Ultimate good is really a result of a "resulting disposition" known as total depravity. In other words, is it true that our inability to be in relationship with God on our own is a result of the Fall?

What is usually assumed in saying that we cannot be reconciled to God because of Original Sin is that before the Fall we must have had the ability to do so. Of course, no one, least of all Calvinists, think of salvation or reconciliation before the Fall. That seems ridiculous! And yet, and this is a big "and yet," our definition speaks of doing the Ultimate good which, in my mind, would have meaning before or after the Fall. Obviously before the Fall doing the Ultimate good would be one thing, simply having a relationship with God, and after the Fall doing the Ultimate good would be something slightly different, reconciling ourselves with God. Either way, the real question we should be focused on is not the changed contexts for what doing the Ultimate good is or requires but whether we were able in the first place to do the Ultimate good. (Note: this is not a discussion of the human free will, per se, but something else. It does, however--and this will not be evident in this post--have an effect on how we think about free will).

The reason I think the question of whether or not doing the Ultimate good was possible before the Fall is illuminating is that when we think of human nature in Edenic paradise we typically think of a perfectly good state in which Adam and Eve could choose to do the Ultimate good (which, before the Fall, would be existing in a relationship with God). This is why most people who believe in total depravity of some sort will say that our nature has been corrupted and in virtue of this corruption unable to choose the Ultimate good (which, after the Fall, would be reconciliation with God).

The claim I want to put out there is that the biblical narrative does not suggest that Adam and Eve could choose the Ultimate good before the Fall, or in more biblically appropriate terminology "their expulsion from the Garden." As soon as we pose this question in the Genesis narrative, Adam and Eve have already eaten of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. So, obviously, the text itself does not answer the question for us.

But if we were to look at the act of creation by the Triune God I think we can approximate what the biblical text would say concerning this issue. This is where Robert Jenson's observations come in very handy. Concerning creation, Jenson points out that the act of creation in Genesis 1 demonstrates the work of the Triune God. In particular, when God speaks things into existence God the Father speaks by the commands "Let there be..." The Holy Spirit, who hovers above the face of the waters, makes it possible for the Father's command to come into being since the Spirit comes from future possibility, that is, the Spirit is liberation or freedom (2 Cor. 3:17).  The Spirit's work, as such, is denoted by the phrase "and it was so" throughout the narrative. The Son, however, comes into the picture when God looks upon creation and declares that "it was good." The reason, according to Jenson, that the Father can look upon creation and see that it is good is that in the eternal relationship of the Father begetting the Son, the Father can make room to create the world because the Father is the source of the Son. Obviously, this is difficult to grasp, since it is speaking of the inner-relationship of the Triune God, but it does a wonderful job of showing that the Triune God is involved in creation in various dimensions. As Jenson puts it, "the Son speaks the actuality, the givenness by the Father, of the purposiveness that the creature has by the Spirit"(Jenson, Systematic Theology VII., pg. 27).

This discussion of the Triune God in creation has particular relevance to the issue of the ability of humans to do the Ultimate good prior to the Fall because it demonstrates that notions of a perfectly good human nature are in reality just examples of wishful thinking (what Paul Tillich calls "dreaming innocence").

Put more simply, what makes creation "good" is not anything particular in or about creation itself, especially prior to the Fall. It is rather that the Son "mediates the Father's originating and the Spirit's liberating, thereby to hold open the creatures' space in being" (Jenson, pg. 27). When Genesis says therefore that God saw that "it was good," the Bible is not stating anything about the nature of creation itself but the Son, for it is the Son who allows for the Father to say "it is good."

This brings us back to our question of whether or not it was in the power or ability for humans, particularly Adam and Eve, to do the Ultimate good on their own. The answer, based on Jenson's reflections, must unequivocally be "no."

The reason is that in creation God creates everything into existence with His own words. Nothing exists in its own right; everything is a result of divine speech, the most wonderful and beautiful language there is.

As humans, we owe our existence to God; any Christian of any theological tradition can say as much. In owing our existence to God, through His speech, the only proper way of viewing ourselves is as conversants in God's Triune language and community. This, again, is nothing to do on account of our own abilities. God initiates the conversation and makes it possible for us to respond. If the "image of God" (Gen. 1:26-27) means anything it must mean this.

The wonderful thing is that even if we do not owe our nature as conversants with God due to our own abilities, God still makes us conversants with Him. That is to say, we can speak and talk with God! We actually have a role and it is a role that we can fill with what God has given us.

As conversants, therefore, we may not be able to do the Ultimate good on our own, but we can be thankful that God has. Not only that but He has given us the opportunity to participate in the Triune conversation, the life of the Father, Son and Spirit. God, in His Tri-Unity, is the origin, the mediation and liberation required for us to attain the Ultimate good.

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This brings us back to our definition for total depravity represented by P2. With the above discussion of God's Triune work in creation and the biblical narrative in mind, we can safely conclude that P2 is deficient.

The reason why is that it equates "resulting disposition" with "the inability to do the Ultimate good." This simply cannot be done. The inability to do the Ultimate good was established prior to the Fall, in that humanity's role is as conversants with the God who accomplishes the good for us.

Understandably, some Calvinists will think it odd that I speak of the Ultimate good after the Fall as "reconciliation with God" and ask if it was possible for humans to achieve the Ultimate good before the Fall. Obviously it does not really make sense to speak of salvation before the Fall but my understanding of the Ultimate good is not tied to a particular definition since it is related to the context. Thus, before the Fall one can speak of the Ultimate good a particular way that does not quite resemble how it is spoken of after the Fall. The only thing that remains true throughout is that in both contexts there is always the Ultimate good.

I think the fact that choosing the Ultimate good was impossible before the Fall is especially interesting when one considers it alongside Augustine's repudiation of Pelagianism. In fact, one wonders what Augustine's argument would have looked like had it not granted the perfectly good state that makes it possible for humans to do the Ultimate good before the Fall? Would he have been more successful in not only refuting Pelagianism but would he have propped the Western theological tradition up in such a way as to avoid the theological problems concerning free will and predestination?

Personally, I think Augustine would have dealt a more damaging blow to Pelagianism by demonstrating that even before the Fall it was impossible for humanity to choose or do the Ultimate good. This does not mean, of course, that humanity's free will is compromised by saying that it was impossible to do the Ultimate good prior to the Fall.   We have to remember that to be human is to be a conversant with God by God's own directive. Just as we don't choose to exist, we don't choose to be conversant with God. This does not preclude free will because free will has nothing to do with choosing to exist or not (suicide is really besides the point here). Free will is not demonstrated with choices such as this. Free will is demonstrated in unforced obedience to God which God has made possible for us in making us conversants with Him. We don't create the conversation. We don't make ourselves conversants in it either. We just converse; that's what we were made to do.

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The only theologically tenable definition for total depravity must be something different from P2, P1 or P. As I mentioned above, I still believe that total depravity is necessary but in a different sense than it has been defined thus far.

My thinking is that, if anything, total depravity must express the reality of evil, that all people sin, and that our whole human nature is culpable (not just our body, or not just individuals). These three things are essential and if this is what we mean by total depravity then I think it is defensible in respect to the biblical narrative. We have to remember, after all, that Genesis does not speak of "the Fall," "Original Sin" or "total depravity." These are vestiges of a theological tradition that interpreted, somewhat inadequately, this narrative.

I still think there is something redeemable in the theological tradition that has read the biblical narrative in light of these terms. That is, the reality of sin is real and it compromises human existence individually, communally, governmentally and globally. That much is, and should, be readily confirmed when we speak of human nature.

What is unnecessary to the definition of total depravity is anything that tries to speak to the degree to which human nature is compromised by sin. This only gets us into trouble, as the long debates concerning free will, predestination and salvation by faith has demonstrated. Indeed, in light of our discussion of the Triune God's work in creation, these debates appear to be little else than theological quibbling.

The only appropriate definition for total depravity must look something like this (I will call it P3):

P3:  Sin, constituted in and by human depravity, is total...

Granted, this is not much of a definition and I don't think it is satisfying. But perhaps that is the point: all we need to say is that sin is real, humans do it, and it effects everything there is. That it is open ended (represented by the "...") is the most important part. Sin is not a complete reality, and so it makes sense that our definition reflect this incompleteness because this is where fear and anxiety enter in. (Kierkegaard was right to consider sin as despair for this reason). Indeed, in the face of evil, it is difficult to not be fearful. The only hope we have is that Christ, through his death and resurrection, does not allow sin to finish itself. Christ brings an end to it, just as He brings an end to all our fear and anxieties (1 Pt. 5:7).

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At this point, as I conclude this post, it is important to sum up what has been argued thus far and to clarify some of the finer points made.

1. Total Depravity is more than an anthropological statement about human nature; it is a soteriological statement about humanity's inability to obtain salvation on their own merits.

2. Total Depravity is a doctrine (if we can call it that) that express several Christian ideas/beliefs that can be expressed without affirming the doctrine itself. (For instance, it is possible to maintain the reality of evil or justification by faith without having to maintain any particular account of total depravity).

3. For clarification purposes, when I have used the language of "the Ultimate good" I have done so with the intention to describe how we relate to God. In other words, I have wanted to maintain that the Ultimate good is related to whether we can "choose God," and the particular meaning of what that entails depends upon the context (pre- or postlapsarian). The language is not, on the other hand, meant to tackle the issue of whether it was possible for humanity to not sin before their actual sin. That is for another day, another discussion, in its own right.

4. The inability of humanity to choose the Ultimate good before and after the Fall recognizes two things: One, the state before the Fall did not include a natural or original righteousness inherent to human nature which enabled them to make the choice of the Ultimate good (Original righteousness can still be affirmed but only with respect to the understanding that it did not enable humans to choose the Ultimate good). Two, the state after the Fall is only different in that we have refused to be participants with God in His Triune conversation and have, as a result, committed ourselves to idolatry, lust, injustice and despair (conversations which imitate but are false derivatives of the true thing--that is, God's Triune conversation).

5. An appropriate definition for total depravity can be maintained as long as it does not go into extensive detail about what a human can or cannot do with their sinful nature. All that needs to be maintained, therefore, is the simple fact that sin distorts human nature, community and creation holistically and detrimentally. Any definition for that matter that seeks to define the particulars of what this "distortion" looks like goes beyond the biblical text, especially in Genesis 1-3.

6. The language of the Fall will need to be rediscussed. Once we have done away with the idea that humanity could choose to do the Ultimate good before the Fall, because of some inherent righteousness, we have to rethink what it is that we fall from. Traditionally, we have thought it was that we fell from a perfected state to a depraved one, but if we rethink that in terms of the inability to choose the Ultimate good before and after the event, called "the Fall", we are forced to ask what it is that we have fallen from. My initial thought is that we can still maintain the language of the Fall but that we must be careful to explain what that means, namely that we have turned from our conversation with the Triune God, since we had the choice out of our free will to continue as conversants with Him, to a false conversation with ourselves and the rest of creation.

7. I think that any discussion of original righteousness prior to the Fall must focus more on an initiated righteousness not an inherent righteousness. The difference is that whereas the former maintains the role of God in maintaining righteousness in us, the latter seems to imply that the righteousness was something that we possess as creatures. Both options, of course, maintain that God is the active force in creating the righteousness but they differ with respect to how that is to be conceived, that is, as something inherent or not inherent to human nature.

8. Some will probably see a bit of Irenaeus in this post. I will admit to being influenced by his thinking on the nature of creation and the Fall but my conclusions are not a direct result of his work. Irenaeus is unfortunately somewhat overlooked when it comes to the Fall, especially against the juggernaut called the Augustinian tradition, but I do not consider myself an Irenaean, even if I admit particular aspects of his thought are attractive.

Faith as An Alternate Script: How Faith Can Save Youth Ministry

2011-11-21T18:44:00.001-05:00

(This is another post in my series on Faith and Youth Ministry. You can read the first post, on discipleship, here.)

After communion one Sunday, during our youth service (called "Kaleo," meaning "to call," in Greek), I noticed that a few girls were missing for the final songs of the service. To be honest, I probably would not have noticed that they were gone had I not observed beforehand that they were playing on their cell phones as I was breaking bread for communion.

Obviously, this frustrated me to no end because all of this happened after I repeatedly told everyone that we needed to focus on Christ at this time and tune everything else out. It is not like I am being too demanding of my students. I don't usually make requests for their attention unless it is really important and I usually get a good response from them (most of the time). After all, I don't take their cell phones from them or make them drop it off at the door as they walk in. I simply trust them to make the right decisions and pay attention when requested. So, when they don't pay attention by getting on their cell phones in the middle of service, after all the allowances I make, I get a little frustrated--though I will admit that I know why they do it. One word--boredom.

Students who would rather be on their cell phone than paying attention to the lesson or youth pastor speak is not an uncommon phenomenon. The fact that these girls left the service entirely so they could go somewhere else sounds more troubling but I think it is an easier fix in the long run because I can always get students to stay in the room, if I request it, but getting them to pay attention is another matter completely out of my hands. Cell phones are a quick and easy distraction for anyone who is bored. I admit that I do it sometimes myself. So--I guess I should not be all that surprised that students will resort to their cell phones even at the most serious of times.

This happens, I suspect, all the time, not only in my youth group but in all youth groups (unless some youth pastor out there has mastered the art of capturing the full attention of students at all times). My frustration is not that these girls, or any students, couldn't keep focused during our hour-long service. I expect that. My frustration is that I fear that their disinterest in the youth service speaks to an even larger issue: that faith isn't worth it. Or, to put it in starker terms, that faith is not worth dying for.

Faith is a difficult thing to comprehend let alone live out. Any Christian that has had to explain to inquiring skeptics why the Trinity is necessary for the Christian faith understands what I mean. I have no doubt that the problem we have in understanding faith is because it is a lived reality that cannot be understood without having lived it in the first place. The proof is in the living, you could say. This is why, I suspect, we tend to relate faith in terms of "trust," "faithfulness" and "belief." Even though these words are not perfect synonymns with faith they certainly express aspects of it that are easy to comprehend for people, especially teenagers.

While not all of my students are hesitant to discuss what faith is, many are, and I can see how talking about faith to a teenager seems, to many a youth pastor (including myself), like trying to fit an elephant into a mouse hole. Teenagers only have so much patience and have so much room for talk about faith that even if you are successful in getting some in, like the tip of the elephants trunk, you feel like you haven't accomplished much.

For instance, with most of my youth, the only spiritual moments in which I can tell they are open to talking about God is when it concerns how a boyfriend treated them or why a particular girl rejected their offer to go out with them. But even in these moments I know that God-talk is only enaged because the rejection or the pain felt from the relationship is too hard to bear--that is to say, more directly, that the burden of talking about God seems quite minimal to the pain or suffering they feel from their broken relationships. Maybe they get something out of engaging God-talk at a far more substantial level than I make it out to be. They could, for all I know, be spiritually nurtured in our talks. You never know.

What I do know is that, in general, faith is rarely spoken of at a level that could be considered substantial. This is something, more than anything else, that I struggle with the most in ministry. For instance, if we built buildings like we talk about faith to teenagers we would probably not get much beyond preparing to settle the foundation. Hence the reason why I said before that talking about faith with a teenager feels like fitting an elephant into a mouse hole. You really don't have the time or opportunity to do what you need to do to create a forum for beneficial talk concerning faith.

This is why youth ministry is difficult to maintain on a sustainable level. In the 4-6 years that you have a particular student, depending on how your ministry is structured, you will discover that their capacity for God-talk not only varies by age but that each student varies in where they are in their particular spiritual journey (if they have one to speak of, in the first place).

Some have no foundation; others do. Some have a foundation, but it was improperly formed and must be reconstructed. Others have a firm foundation but lack structure. Some, blessedly, come to you like a house that is move-in-ready, and all you need to do is add your own personal touches (these are rare, by the way, but they do exist--thankfully). Others have faith so unappealing in appearance and organization that you cannot decide where to begin--because to even begin at reconstruction will require tearing down all of the existing structure (Money Pits!). And others are so beaten down by external forces that tender-loving-care is going to exceed your resources and time (but you feel so bad for them that feel you should at least try)

And yet, the situation for youth ministry is even more varied than this! It is hard to imagine, I know, but for as many of my students that fit into one of the above situations there are countless others that do not. This is what makes youth ministry so arduous, because when you try to talk to the whole group you know that, even if you gauge your lesson/message for most, many will be left clueless and confused. As a youth pastor the very fact that this is the situation I facedaily--and I know it to truly exist, it is not just my imagination--is the bane of my existence.

The question then, that we must face in all of this, is: what do we do about faith? Do we carry on, presenting the gospel as we know we must, hoping that it will engage some and, for others, plant seeds that someone else will grow? Or, do we search for the next curriculum, the next lesson series, that will make sure to cover all bases, so that we can meet every kid on their own level? (Incidentally, this last option has been widely appealing in recent years within youth ministry. One only need to note the Orange or Re:form curricula which seek, in their own way, to cover all the bases of spiritual and psychological development.)

For me these questions are important but I think they are framed in the wrong way. What I mean is that they choose to focus on an answer to the dilemma--that youth are not finding faith engaging enough--by ending up with one extreme over the other. In other words, for some, who will carry on presenting the gospel every time they get the chance, the extreme is in "making sure kids are captivated by God's love." For the others, who want to dig in deeper and try to strategically meet students at every stage of development, the extreme is "making sure kids are grounded in God's love." The problem with both of these is not that they are unworthy goals--they are certainly admirable ideals for ministry. No, the problem is that either extreme won't do it. A student who is captivated but not grounded will wither away at the first sign of spiritual difficulty; and a student who is grounded but not captivated will soon burn out from lack of passion. To get our students both captivated and grounded we need to rethink the questions that we have been asking ourselves.

As youth ministers we all want students to be captivated and grounded in God's love. That much should be obvious. (If not, then we really have problems!). What we should instead be asking ourselves is what is it about MY faith that demonstrates I am captivated and grounded by God's love? To be sure, this is not an opportunity to show off one's faith and how all others pale in comparison. That will only exacerbate the problem. What I have in mind is simply exemplifying who we are in Christ.

My conviction as to why the question of our faith is more important than how to cultivate it in others is born from two things: One, the fact that the most profitable books for my youth ministry have always focused on who I am as a youth minister and not what I should be doing as a youth minister. Two, faith is a thing of God, completely and totally.

In exemplifying how to demonstrate that we are captivated and grounded by God's love in ministry, I think Paul's example to the Galatians is the most powerful: "My dear children, for whom I am again in the pains of childbirth until Christ is formed in you." (Gal. 4:19; emphasis mine).

What is profound about this statement, I think, is not just that Paul uses a feminine metaphor for himself (which is kind of weird if you think about it) but that it captures how difficult faith-work--that is, ministry--really is. I emphasized "again" in this verse because Paul is telling the Galatians that his work with them is not done, nor is it ever done--at least until Christ is formed in them. And lest you think that "formed in Christ" is another way of saying "being saved" let me unequivocally say that this could not be any further from the truth. I love the power that "formed" has in this verse simply because it defies all simple declarations about when faith is accomplished or matured. Faith, in the words of one of my youth, is "a life-long adventure."

The wonderful thing in all of this is that Paul is patient enough to endure this life-long adventure with the Galatians. The fact that he uses the metaphor of childbirth should tell us that it is not easy for him. (In fact, I think his usage of childbirth, in this context, cannot be simply regarded as a mere metaphor but that is a subject for another day). Just prior to this verse Paul urges the Galatians to become like him because he has become like them (4:12). And so, for Paul, ministry is about bearing these people, until Christ is formed in them, but it is also about them becoming like him--in becoming servants who obediently lay their lives down for others.

Is this some mere stratagem used by Paul to persuade them to give up some of their beliefs? I don't think so. There is more to Paul's exhortations than that. Rather what his exhortations point to is that faith is built in the context of a ministry that can bear the burdens of others. Some would call this form of ministry the "way of the cross" because it follows Christ as the supreme example for what ministry looks like. And they would be right; this is exactly how Paul ministered to congregations like the Galatian church. Indeed, this is why Paul was so successful. It was not that he was a great speaker, or even a great leader for that matter, that his ministry great. It was his life, as a life truly entrenched in the way of the cross, that made all the difference. In fact, you cannot read the letters of Paul without his wonderful faith in God oozing through the text. His words, grounded in his example of faith, still have great power today for this reason.

Therefore, instead of trying to captivate or ground kids in the faith, let's live the "way of the cross." I have entitled this post, "Faith as An Alternate Script", simply for this reason; the way of the cross is an alternate script to a world immersed in consumerism, injustice, nationalism and narcissism. (By the way, I owe the notion of faith as "an alternate script" to Walter Brueggemann, from his book Interpretation and Obedience). By engaging this kind of faith, we are not merely putting on a show; we are letting Christ live through us.

There is no need for overly pious notions of "if we just had more faith in God everything would be better." Nor is there any need to look solely to having our daily devotions as a way to get us closer to God so that we can help others get closer God. This is not what I mean by being examples of faith to others. We can do better than this!

What we can do, and I honestly believe this is how all great ministries work, is by having a faith that tells a different story than what the world tells. This story, as exemplified in the life of Paul, captivates us with the gospel, and it grounds us by the work of the Holy Spirit, all because it engages us in an alternate script.

In Christ, power is shown in weakness. In Christ, a world is conquered not by victorious battle but by laying down one's life for others. In Christ, we live not by anything we have done on our own merit but simply because Christ has overcome death in His resurrection.

What would ministry look like as an alternate script? Our only clue is in Christ. By His power and His example, we can live for others in ways we never imagined or thought convincing.

As I said before, youth ministry is not in trouble because we were wrong to want others to be captivated or grounded in God's love. It is in trouble precisely because "the way of the cross" has slipped from our imaginations and we are no longer truly captivated and grounded in this alternate script. Much prayer, devotions, Bible study, small group time--while good in their own right--will not provide this alternate script because it is a script that must be lived out in the context of brokenness and need. In fact, by living the alternate script, our prayers, devotions and study are radically transformed from "I need to fill myself up with God" to "I need to let God out."

So--is there encouragement for youth ministers who struggle with youth, like my girls who have a tendency to wander off or not pay attention? Absolutely.

Just look to the cross.

Why Youth Ministries (and the Church) Do Not Get Discipleship Right

2011-11-13T22:12:00.001-05:00

If you were to ask me what my biggest fear is about my youth ministry as a youth minister, I would probably give you the following response: that most won't find the Christian faith engaging enough to live out, and that for those who do, at this particular moment, that they will not be able to sustain it for their rest of their lives.

And I don't think I am alone. Most youth pastors, or youth workers, have this fear.

This is why you hear calls for doing all you can with the time you have. We only have so much time before they are gone...If we don't prepare them for life beyond high school, college will delude them and lead them astray...We need to preach the gospel to these kids every chance we get.   And on it goes.

If you look at the statistics you understand why people say these things with such urgency and conviction. Recent studies, done by the National Study of Youth and Religion in particular, confirm some of the fears that most youth workers have; our youth are just not getting it, and our efforts to help them get it are weak, inadequate and fruitless.

Our reaction?

Some give in; some give up; others do what they have always done; some recklessly try every new method in the book; and countless others question every single decision they make. (On a personal note, as a way of confession, I have a particular problem with the last one)

What is the answer? And, more importantly, do we believe there is an answer?

I won't presume to think that answering either of these questions is an easy task; nor will I presume that I have the credentials or wisdom to even attempt answering them.

All I can offer is what I have learned in my limited time within youth ministry--as well as the insights of more wise and intelligent youth workers than myself.

I will break up my thoughts on what I have learned into a series of posts: The first dealing with discipleship; the second, faith; and the third, mystery. Within each of these posts, I hope to explain why we have got things wrong and how I believe we can fix it. Please do not take my beliefs as the final say on the matter but treat them as the opening to your own thoughts on the matter. And, if you are comfortable doing so, please give me feedback so that we can discuss what I have said.

I begin with discipleship.

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The best way I know to begin this post on discipleship is to begin with a basic conclusion that I have made about youth ministry (the observations I make can be applied to the whole ministry of the church as well; in fact, it should be applied to the whole church, as we will see in my next post).

Here it is: "Flash" is easier (and more expensive) and less effective, but discipleship is harder (and cheaper) and more costly but more effective in the long run.

What does that mean? To begin, it is easy to put on a retreat, a concert, take kids to a conference with the best speakers, and so on; and doing so gives us the sense that we are doing something worthwhile--after all, the kids "dig it." But discipleship is where the real work is done; the results are not as appealing as the flash and the pain that one has to bear sometimes can be quite unbearable. In fact, more often than not, we might never see the fruits of our labor in discipleship. Whereas the flash gives us a sense of accomplishment, discipleship gives us a sense of disappointment. This is why most people neglect it. Or, even worse, they turn discipleship into something it is not.

For this reason, I think it is important for me to explain a little bit more about what I mean with 'discipleship' because I know there are those youth workers out there who think that discipleship means "studying the Bible more deeply" or "leadership training." Both these ideas of discipleship, in my mind, fail to grasp the concept of discipleship that comes from the Bible (ironic, especially if you consider that one of these meanings means to study the Bible), and I feel that while reading the Bible and training leaders are important for all of ministry, true discipleship transcends such practices.

Out of the many images of discipleship in the Bible, like Luke 14: 25-43, most who read the Bible focus too heavily on the "cost" of discipleship without considering what costly discipleship means. (Again this is ironic considering that these passages openly discuss the cost of discipleship.  It also doesn't surprise me considering that some churches like to present Christianity as something difficult, and not for the weary of heart, to convince others that we have the hardest faith to live out, as if, by doing so, we make Christianity seem more appealing).

Discipleship is more than just a test to measure how committed we are, as if we are in a game where a Christian is measured by the x number of spiritual power they have. A simple look at the twelve disciples confirms that discipleship was never solely intended to evaluate your "Christian-ness."   Rather it was a process of forging people into followers of Christ. And this process, more often than not, meant some would be turned away.

I am not suggesting, of course, that if certain people cannot handle discipleship then we should push them away from the church. This is quite the opposite of what I mean. Rather than push people out, discipleship should bring them in.

At this point, I have probably confused you because when I say discipleship should bring people in, you think, he is talking about evangelism. No, no, no, no, NO. The reason why you think "evangelism" when I say "discipleship" is because we have confused our meanings. In fact, I would rather do away with the word "evangelism" completely since its usage seems to cause more harm to the proclamation of the gospel than good.

Discipleship is about suffering with people, bearing their burdens or, as Paul put it in Galatians 4:19, like giving birth to them until Christ is formed in them. I know that last statement is a little difficult to digest at first but it is one of the most appropriate ways of viewing discipleship or ministry I have ever heard. We don't hear it that often--especially in a world where childbirth is a thing of hospitals not the home--but a mother giving birth to her children is a great image for discipleship, if you think about it.

Allow me to explain.

Instead of discipleship being a way to measure commitment or test one's knowledge of God, discipleship is really a way of forging us so that we can bear the burdens of others more readily. Just look at Jesus; discipling Peter, James, John and the others was not a training program, it was a life spent in bearing their unbelief, their stubborness, their thick-headedness and their weakness.

Thus, according to the example of Jesus, discipleship forges us not by learning about God but learning to live like Him in carrying other people's burdens (Gal 6:2). Indeed, this is the best way to make sense of Jesus' exhortation to his disciples that "none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions." (Luke 14:33, NRSV). Our tendency to explain away this verse by avoiding what it really says is evidence that we have missed the essential point of Jesus' teaching: we don't give up all that we have to prove our committment to Christ but to make room for others so that we can suffer with them.

This is what discipleship is all about.

For a youth ministry to reclaim discipleship as I have presented it in this post will mean not that we need to give up the flashy programs and concerts. Those can be fun in their own right. What it should do instead is teach us that the true measure of our ministry is not dictated by the response we see in kids after a flashy concert but by our ability to labor with the kids when the flash isn't there.

I have always said, and firmly believe it to this day, that faith is best received and taught in those moments where there is no flash or fancy programming; rather, faith is best received and taught as a gracious gift in the ordinary, mundane and seemingly most un-spiritual moments of people's lives. In fact, if someone can learn to live their faith in the non-flashy moments, they are proving to their ministers, parents and community that their faith is actually for real and that it will have sustaining value beyond a mere moment.

After all, a faith born in flash is out like a flash.

In closing, reclaiming discipleship is not easy, and it will certainly not give us the results we so desperately want (or need because our church expects it out of us). Discipleship is about the Kingdom of God made present, here and now, so that in our ministry we can join with all of creation in laboring and groaning for union with Christ (Rom. 8:22).

Discipleship may not be the most clean, tidy, easy, successful thing to do in the church but it is certainly the most rewarding.

The Best Songs Ever Written

2011-11-07T15:57:00.001-05:00

When it comes to the pleasure and enjoyment of music, one is confronted with several, related questions. What makes it enjoyable? What makes it timeless? Philosophically, do we experience 'beauty' in music? And, lastly, can we really say that any particular song is the 'best' or 'greatest' written?

Answers to these questions come in short supply. At the very least, in asking them, we seem to invite sacrilege because songs have a sacred quality to them that vanishes under (too much) scrutiny. You cannot disect a song without comprimising its integrity. A song, after all, is not identified by its parts but the sum of its parts. Each part plays an integral and essential role; but, on its own, a part does not make a song. It is the experience, the whole experience, that dictates its vitality.

This is why music can be spoken of as having a vitality to it that most adequately expresses the beauty of nature. Even the most artificial forms of music, those forms that rely upon synthetic components, mimic nature. Because it is written as a medium of pleasure, desire and amazement, music is often confused with entertainment. Nothing could be further from the truth. In essence, music is life; and the best music embodies the vitality of life.

To speak of a song as the 'best' or 'greatest' can seem pretentious or naive, maybe even both. Some would suggest that this is as good reason as any to disregard such words from our consideration of music, as if the only thing that matters is the pleasure a single person feels in listening to a song. This only leads us down the unfortunate path of viewing music without considering its universality and timelessness (if it has them to begin with). No, we must not take that path; music, despite its variety and diversity, is universal. And music, despite when it is written, has the ability to capture the hearts and minds of people at all times, sometimes it quite unexpected ways.

Where does this take us? I am not completely sure. But hopefully it reminds us that we cannot use words like "best" and "greatest" as frivolously as we do. If you know me I believe that words must be used as carefully and deliberately as possible. When we do use words, such as these, we must ask ourselves what makes them the "best" and "greatest," all the while avoiding saying that "they are the 'best' because I like them the most." That answer is insufficient. Indeed, if we determined the best and the greatest solely on that basis anything would do--and what a mess that would create.

On the other hand, we should not think that since we can consider something the best or the greatest simply because we feel that way that we should disregard individual experience completely. That would make no sense. Without our experience of a thing, we would have no way of knowing how to talk about it. The only acceptable path then is to make sure that our individual experience contributes to, rather than dictates, our evaluation of music.

In this post, I am going to list the 10 songs that are the best written songs. Some of them took me years to get used to; others, I fell in love with the first time I heard them. I evaluated them by noting how well the lyrics match the music, and how well the instrumentation complements the meaning of the lyrics. There are a lot of songs that have phenomenal instrumentation. There are also equally as many songs that have phenomenal lyrics. But for both of these two to converge in a single song is rare. This is what makes these 10 songs so important; they represent some of the best writing and instrumentation out there.

I am sure that this list, as with most lists of this nature, will continue to grow and change. This does not mean that these songs lose their designation of "best" or "greatest." What it means is that one should not pay attention to the total number of songs included or, more particularly, their order. Discovery is an important compenent to the music-listening experience. It is a long process, lasting a lifetime, and it should not be measured comprehensively but intensively, meaning that the process is more about the depth of experience found in a song than comparitive analysis with other songs.

Here we go:

Bruce Springsteen -- "Born To Run"

The Beach Boys -- "God Only Knows"

Bob Dylan -- "The Times They Are A-Changin"

The Beatles -- "Something"

Rush -- "Tom Sawyer"

Simon and Garfunkel -- "Bridge Over Troubled Water"

Gordon Lightfoot -- "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald"

Led Zeppelin -- "Stairway to Heaven"

U2 -- "Where the Streets Have No Name"

The Wallflowers -- "One Headlight"

What the Occupy Movements are Really Saying

2011-11-04T10:10:00.000-04:00

By now we all have been saturated, and perhaps over-saturated, with the news coverage on the Occupy movements. My assessment of these movements, positively or negatively, has been a long time coming. It is not that anyone was anxiously waiting to hear my opinion on the matter; no one really cares, and I don't blame them. (I am, after all, just a youth pastor who has better things to think about than what all these movements say or portend). But my response has been a long time coming because my approach to politics is not of the knee-jerk variety that dominates the media and political commentators. I need a long time to process, otherwise my opinion, lacking any significant deliberation, is easily repudiated for lack of insight.

Now, however, I feel I have had enough time to really think about this particular issue--since it is obvious that it won't go away. (That it won't go away is supported by the fact that the Comedy Central show South Park has even shared its own, albeit satirical, thoughts on this issue in a recent episode).

I should start by saying that I am a fairly un-political person. That is, I am not the type of person who expresses their opinion on every political issue any chance they get, especially on Facebook. On a side note, seriously, to those who do this quite often on Facebook: I really couldn't care less that your not going to vote for Obama in 2012. In truth, I probably wouldn't react so unfavorably to your Facebook comments if it were not for the fact that they are so prejudiced that I feel like to comment on them would break out in either open hostility or foolish congratulation. I would much rather prefer honest conversation about the issues but only if--by a Facebook post--they are done so in a manner that welcomes people to the conversation instead of letting out your endless frustrations. Sometimes a little caution--especially before you post something on Facebook--goes a long way in making one seem wise.

Anyways--like I was saying, I am an un-political person. You are not going to see me get frustrated talking about political issues unless you say unkind and foolish things. Then, and only then, will you see my cheeks redden with anger. Therefore my thoughts on political issues are a rare thing, unless I have had time to think about them. And, as with all things, I try to refrain from blaming or shaming, something I think everyone should quit doing after grade school.

So you will not see me scoffing at these movements, as some conservatives do. Nor will you see me hijacking the messages of the protesters to support my political platform, as some liberals do.

To state it simply, what I think the Occupy movements are saying--despite political commentary and what the protesters say themselves--is that "here is just another example of why we are so broken as humans." Lest those involved in these movements think that I am essentially agreeing with their message in saying this, I will say that this statement is not so much based on the fact that their message cries out for justice against the wealthy but that the language they use ("We are the 99%") is evidence of their own brokenness.

Allow me to explain.

I believe that the protesters have every right to be mad that the gap between rich and poor is ever-widening. I agree. This is something we should all be concerned about. At the same time, I resist using language that only further divides us--such as the 99% and 1%. Everyone hails these movements for their ability to assemble seemingly out of thin air. Personally, someone should have thought this thing out more because I think that this movement's message is out of proportion with what it purports to say. That is, in trying to call out for justice, these movements impede the process by using 'us vs. them' language.

I realize that when people use the language of 99% vs. 1% that they are stating some basic statistics. But statistics are not relationships, and it is exactly this--our relationship to one another--that is broken apart when this language is used.

It is funny that so many of the people in these movements are concerned with politically correct language (I heard one female talk about all females as 'female-bodied persons'), and yet not realize that their movement is essentially missing the point in its language.

The point is that greed tears relationships apart. But language, when used carelessly, can also tear relationships apart.

Wealth, while not in itself a vice, is usually pursued through vices such as greed and extravagance. Is it right then to be upset that avarice seems to dominate our economy? Yes, of course. But is it right to use demeaning language to protest this when it only breaks us further apart? No, not at all.

This is why I believe that the Occupy movements say more than what their protestations appear to say. While it is nice to see people call out for justice, it should also be recognized that the true problem--as the Book of Genesis and Jesus teach us--is that all people are broken and our relationships suffer as a result.

I have heard some conservatives say that the Occupy movements should not be protesting capitalism but the government. I think this is completely ridiculous, as it misses the point as well. What we should be doing is telling the Occupy movements that while their cause is just--so far as it seeks to truly concern itself with the gap between rich and poor--that their protestations miss the mark by using language that only exacerbates the problem.

I am not saying that finding appropriate means will be easy and that they will solve all our problems because, truthfully, I don't even know what the next step would look like. What I do know, and this has been my argument throughout this post, is that we should not only reassess our language but that we should focus more on the true problem that divides us all--our broken relationships with one another.

Ministry 101: "Carrying the Moment"

2011-10-25T16:13:00.000-04:00

You will notice, to my chagrin, that I have entitled this post "Ministry 101." I resisted doing this mainly because it does not fully represent my intentions within this post. The addition of "101" is hackneyed, I will admit, and it is deceptive because, whereas this number is usually reserved for introductory courses on any subject, I use it here because it is my intention to strip down the concept of ministry and translate it into our own time.

Why do this? Good question. Truthfully, I do it because it is a subject which I struggle with on a daily basis as a Director of Student Ministries. I also do it because in contemporary times the definition of what is the appropriate definition for a minister is not only debated within Christian circles but the public realm as well. (Hosanna-Tabor v. EEOC is a recent example. Read this piece by Stanely Fish).

I asked some of my youth this question a few weeks back to get their perspective. In particular I wanted their opinion on whether or not my job, in all its functions and duties, can be considered "ministry." To give you some context, I am not yet ordained by any legitimate governing body in a denomination, yet I have all the education that is required to do so. My concern, however, in asking them this question was not due to the fact that I am not ordained but that if all my work could, and should, be called ministry.

I gave them the following example: Since the pop/soda machine in our church belongs to the youth ministry--all the profits, if we make any, go to our budget--I have to, from time to time, refill it. I asked, "Is this really ministry?" Their response, which was unanimous, was that "yes" it was, regardless of the fact that it certainly does not feel that way. After all, God can use anything to bless people.

As satisfied as I was that my youth were supportive and encouraging of my work, this only served to raise another question: what is ministry in essence?

Usually when I hear a question such as this I respond cavalierly by saying something to the effect that ministry is work done by humans to mirror or echo God's work. I might even add, to give extra flavor, the notion that ministry patterns itself after the incarnation--it is a wholly human and wholly divine act. While this gives ministry an air of mystery, it does little to satisfy my craving for something practical that would make sense to your average person, Christian or not.

Also--I don't know why but whenever I get a haircut the person who is cutting my hair asks me what I do for a living. I understand that they are making small talk in an effort to make such an exchange more comfortable and profitable (tips are necessary for people who work in this trade). But anytime I am asked this question, I wince. My problem with the question is not that I am embarrassed to tell them what I do for a living but that it reminds me that my understanding of ministry is limited. And so, a simple exchange of receiving a haircut turns into an internal debate regarding the nature of ministry. How wonderful is that?

What I have noticed is that definitions for ministry take two basic forms: theological or practical. For the theological definition, just reference what I said above about the Incarnation being the template for ministry. For practical definitions, responses typically involve a description of what one does. As an example, when my father asks what is I actually do at work, I give him a description of the various tasks I perform, all the while knowing that these tasks in and of themselves are not indicative of ministry. The problem with either of these definitions is that, by themselves, they do not make sense of what ministry really is. In truth, you need a little bit of both to truly understand the concept and practice of ministry.

Perhaps you are inclined to think, as you read this post, that I am making a mountain out of a molehill. I will grant that is probably true, as my wife often reminds me. But my intention in finding an appropriate definition for ministry is based on the inner turmoil that I feel any time I try to tell people what I do for a living. Even Christians, who should feel right at home with both the theological and practical definitions, have a difficult time conversing with me on this subject. So it is not just those who live outside of the Christian tradition that have a difficult time understanding what ministry is. Then again, it might be the fact that the way I frame the discussion is too intimidating for people, Christian or not. If that is so, then the urgency for an adequate definition is made all the more important because--if I do not find one--then those around me will go crazy from my incessant deliberations.

All of this, however, comes to a head in a recent "aha" moment I had the other day. It's funny how moments like these occur but they are a blessing when they do actually happen. The typical visual image of a light bulb turning on does not do justice to the miraculous nature of these moments. But I digress--the moment happened, and for that I am grateful.

What I have learned is that the best way of defining ministry is to say that ministry "carries the moment." This means, in essence, that a minister, or anyone engaged in ministry, is called to live in such a way so that when the moment comes they are able to "carry it."

Obviously, at first glance, hearing this probably makes no sense at all but you will have to bear with me for the moment. When I say "carry the moment" what I mean is that ministry is about connecting the dots of people's lives, seeing things that other people might miss, interpreting symbols with clarity and meaning, and, above all, allowing others to see themselves as they truly are.

Perhaps the meaning of this definition is best explained by detailing what it does not mean. It does not mean that one is simply "in the moment." As much as being in the moment can be transformative, the purpose of ministry is not to "just be." Silence, of course, is often encouraged instead of speaking, in certain situations of ministry, so as to give off the impression that one is just trying to be with another in their moment of agony and desperate need. This is an admirable form of ministry but no one ministers to others just to suffer with them; the object is always to lead them down a path of hope. Regardless of how it is accomplished, carrying the moment is simply a way of presenting hope to people, of connected the disconnected to God.

Being "in the moment," moreover, is essential to "carrying the moment." This is why it is often confused with being ministry itself. We have all probably felt the pain from a minister who neglected to pay attention, to listen to what we are saying, and to be with us in the moment of our agony. Situations such as these emphasize the need for people who know how to be with others. Without it, we would never be able to do ministry by carrying the moment.

Another example of what ministry is not is "owning the moment." Far too often--whether out of good intentions or not--ministers have tried to own the moment and, by doing so, missed an opportunity to minister. Such examples of ministers who try to "own" are readily available--people who use God as a cudgel on others by preaching or speaking in ways that intimidate, confuse or exasperate others. It is not our purpose to own any moment. Our job is to simply carry the moment without rubberstamping ourselves upon it. Ministry, after all, is about Jesus Christ, plain and simple. He is, in a way that can never be fully explained, both the Subject (Jn. 3:16) and Object (Matt. 25:40; 1 Jn. 4:12) of ministry

Ministry by carrying the moment has the power to do things we never could imagine. When we speak, people do not just hear us speaking but they hear the voice of God, whether they would be able to name Him as "God" or not. When we act, people are able to feel the presence of God even if it is our hands placed on their shoulders. This, in essence, is ministry by "carrying the moment." And the essential thing we must be able to do is to carry the moment without owning it or merely being there.

Some might ask, given this definition for ministry: Where is the gospel? Are not Christians' ministers solely by their gospel work? In response to the first I will say that "carrying the moment" is the gospel, even if it is not specifically called that, simply because all of the gospel is contained in letting people know that they are not alone, that God is there, despite all evidence to the contrary. This is what the gospel, the "good news", is all about. It is what inspired the first Apostles and it is what still inspires us today.

In response to the second question I have to agree completely that "yes, Christian ministers are defined by their gospel work." All ministry for that matter is defined by the gospel. But no presentation of what the gospel is will ever adequately express the work of ministry. The gospel, in short, is Jesus Christ, raised from the dead, but this simple statement however true it is does not even come close to the beauty and splendor that this event evokes. You must see it, you must touch it, you must hear it for yourself before you can ever understand what "Jesus Christ, raised from the dead" truly means.

Christian ministry, along with the Christian life, is about drawing near to God so that God might draw near to us (James 4:8). This is alone perhaps the most adequate explanation of what "carrying the moment" means in ministry.

A Theology of Words

2011-10-20T01:04:00.000-04:00

Words, we are told in the beginning of Genesis, are what formed the earth and the heavens, birds and all animals which walk upon the earth. God speaks and, in no better words, "it was so." The amazing power of words is put on full display, for all to see, in the opening chapters of Genesis, the first in the Torah, the first in the Bible, and every Bible for that matter, Jewish, Islamic or Christian. Genesis is where it all began. Those opening pages not only recount the beginning of all things, they create, in the mind of the reader, the beginning of a new way of viewing God and creation. In Genesis we find ourselves created, not just as descendants of the first man and woman, but as participants in a conversation with God.

Most of the dialogue, in the act of creation, is reflexive within God himself, or in league with the heavenly host. Either way, depending on your tradition, God converses creation into being because that is who God is--a conversant Being.

In a former post, I spoke of the power of words to reveal not only information but ourselves. However limited our words may be, when we reflect upon the opening chapters of Genesis we are reminded--again and again--that conversation goes hand in hand with anything in creation. All things were created, as theologians put it, ex nihilo, out of nothing, but it is words which did the action. Not hands, not muscle, not violence, as some creation accounts in other ancient texts emphasize. Creation in Genesis is unique because creation is not an end in itself. God is the chief end of all creation just as He is the chief cause of all creation. Another way to put this is to say that God began the conversation so that He could end it.

We must not think, as some do, that creation portrays God as selfish or schizophrenic. God is not talking to Himself alone (though as the triune God His very nature makes it possible for Him to communicate); God is not using creation for vainglorious intentions (the only proper glory for God, as Jonathan Edwards put it, is the one in which all humans bring glory to God by living according to their purpose). In creation, God is revealing Himself to all. When God speaks, the words that are formed, create. They also deliver, sanctify, rectify, correct and perfect. This is why God ended each creative act, signified by days, with the expression "that it was good."

God's words are the very substance of all life. His words remain, from their first utterance to this very day, the same--true, bold, and life-giving.

Words are the basis of everything in the Bible. It is no mistake that we read of Adam 'naming' the animals, the Tower of Babel in which language becomes confused and diverse, Jesus as the Word of God, or Pentecost when all believers spoke in the tongues of many nations, and so much more. Language is important to the Bible; that much cannot be denied.

The Bible is not written in the most grandiose language. The Greek New Testament, written in Koine Greek, demonstrates this. It is written in the language that people actually speak. Even though most of the Bible is written in languages which are no longer spoken in the dialect they were written, the language of the Bible is not a dead one. However difficult translation may be, however arduous constant textual classification and assessment may be, the Bible speaks a living language to all peoples of all nations.

The story it contains focuses on the Word of God, Jesus Christ. We anticipate this Word not just in the anticipation created by the prophets but in the act of creation itself. God's act of speaking creation into being is the firmest of all prophecies: God converses, Christ reveals, the Spirit communes. That is the Trinity in essence. And it is what makes language so powerful, even if it is broken (as the story of the Tower of Babel intimates).

Wittgenstein once remarked that limits to language mean a limit to the world. No one would say that Wittgenstein had Genesis in mind when we said this, obviously. To the contrary, when Wittgenstein said that limited language meant a limited word he was pointing to the fact that language is the basis of reality as we know it. If language be limited, then our experience of the world as humans would also be limited since we experience the world through language. This is why he could also remark that "a new word is like a fresh seed thrown on the ground of discussion." Language has the power to create reality and discover new frontiers in our realm of existence.

While Wittgenstein's remarks on language do not directly support the claim that God, as a conversant Being, spoke the world into existence, they do accompany one another quite well. In fact, in both cases, a world is literally created because of words. Now that is power!

Words create but they also reveal. As Wittgenstein argued, evidenced in the above remarks, language reveals a world to us. In the same way, language reveals us to the world.

Words, of course, can be garbled, confused and misused so as to undermine their chief purpose in revealing. This is a simple but grim fact of human life. Thankfully, this leads us not to a dead end, as we might anticipate. What it leads us to is a state of recognition, wherein we recognize our limits and realize the liberating, redeeming, unifying, and sanctifying power of the Word revealed in Jesus Christ.

Some of the best theological works--most notably the creeds--contain the fewest words. This is because silence on our part is the best way to hear God speak. The Psalmist exclaims that "for God alone my soul waits in silence; from him comes my salvation." (Ps. 62). There is simply no better way to live.

We might even go on to say that silence is the best way to use words, as strange as that may sound. In a unique way silence restores gravitas to language while also realizing its limits in revealing who we are.

Yet, as we come to know God more and more, we realize just how imperfect and incomplete our world is. Language may dictate our experience of the word, as Wittgenstein explains, but it also helps us to realize that the world we live in does not quite measure up with the reality we come to see in God.

This leads us not to yet another potential dead end but again to a full realization of who God is and what He holds for us. In particular, as we read in Acts 2, Pentecost alludes to the completed world that God will provide for us, a world in which we are united in our diversity. We anticipate, consequently, not a heaven on earth or an earth in heaven but the marriage of heaven and earth. And this leads us back again to Genesis.

Words create and they reveal. They also endow us with the anticipation of full disclosure--where peace, love and justice truly reign. To await this disclosure includes all the attributes of waiting--anxiety, pain, and disillusionment. But these are not the end, nor will they ever be.

To look once again at the Word of God, revealed in Jesus Christ, we learn that patience, fortitude, temperance, prudence, love, hope and faithfulness all abide in the God who took on our flesh and tabernacled with us. Our suffering anticipation can give us hope for the coming Kingdom, of heaven and earth united in marriage, because Christ first suffered for us.

As some say, sometimes it is best to wait for the right Word.

Hunger for God

2011-10-13T09:13:00.003-04:00

Honest confession: I have a difficult time talking about God to most Christians I know. I have never really known why, and I suspect that the reason varies by case, but I honestly get angry (even if I dont show it) with how conversations about God are handled. In my case, I often find myself talking about God in such a way that seems to make some Christians uncomfortable or change the subject or, even worse, ignore what I said.

This amuses me because there is a certain level of discomfort involved in talking about the Supreme Being who created all that is seen and unseen. That should be obvious. Somehow, non-Christians understand this fact much better than most Christians I know, which is why I am embarrassed by the lack of tact and respect that we Christians have for those who do not share our faith. At any rate, my frustration with some Christians is not that they do not like to talk about God but that they will only do so if it means not confronting why they believe certain things about God along with how they can make certain claims about God, humanity, salvation and so on. To clarify, I am not asking them to provide a defense as to why they believe what they believe (those who read my blog should know of my distaste for apologetics); all I want is some honest, open, and, god forbid, authentic conversation about God.

Even though I find it to be inappropriately labeled, most people term my discussion about God as 'intellectual' or 'overly heady.' To a certain extent this is true, and it might come across that way to those unaccustomed with the way I think and talk, but in my view it is not possible to talk purely intellectual-like. When we talk--or use any words for that matter--we are engaging in an act with concerns the totality of who we are--mind, body, soul and spirit. It is impossible to talk with one's own mind only, or even with one's own spirit only. To some degree one might talk more with their mind than other parts but, when we speak, all parts are involved however limited or disregarded they may be.

One response I commonly hear posed to me anytime I venture out in talking about God is "Caleb, if we could ever figure God out then He really wouldn't be God." True enough. God is beyond anything we could ever think or imagine; and to believe that we could somehow arrive at the truth about God on our own is evidence of our fallen nature's pride in itself. This is all true. But it ignores what I am truly trying to do when I talk about God.
Most people assume (wrongly) that when I talk about God that I am trying to comprehend Him. I am not. I understand that the ways in which I think about God, considering what it means to say that God is "transcendent," "omnipotent," "infinite" and so on, come off as intellectual or perhaps pretentious, as in I am trying to think my way to God. But this assumption is a mistake, a big mistake.

I get it that some people are uncomfortable or don't feel equipped to talk about such lofty and complex ideas about God. I get that completely. I am not trying to make everyone think the way I do. What I am trying to do is express something inside of me that must get out. This something, which I call hunger for God, is not satisfied with the response "if we could ever figure God out then He really wouldn't be God" because it has not invited me to know God more. To convert Socrates' dictum about the unexamined life, I thoroughly believe that "the unexamined faith is not worth having."

The problem, as I see it, is that we have treated the statement which says we cannot comprehend God as a satisfactory response to the question "Who is God?" when we should have instead saw it as an invitation into life with God. Those who simply state this statement as a satisfactory response are doing something I think cheapens and undermines their faith. In my view, they are doing the same thing agnostics do when they say "we cannot know for sure if there is a God;" and they are doing the same thing people do when they say "I have comprehended fully who God is" (I have never met one of these but they seem to exist for the people who want to state the opposite). Either way, people who use responses such as these do so out of a state of satisfaction, a state in which they are let off the hook about thinking further about God and hungering more for Him. It is the latter which is far more dangerous and pernicious but I think both are endemic of a cheap faith.

Thinking about God is not meant to solve all our problems nor to make us look smart among our peers. The best analogy I can give for thinking about God is that when we think about God we are tilling the soil of our soul so that we can make way for the Holy Spirit to plant God's truth in our lives. Moreover, when we think about God we are not trying to build up a reservoir of ideas about God but we are trying to break off or throw out the false images and ideas that constrict us from seeing God as He really is. As I said, and as Paul proclaims in 1 Corinthians 13, we will never see God as He truly is. His glory and holy radiance would be too much for us. But, when we think about God, we are not so much concerned with satisfying all our questions about God but rather with searching more deeply the One to whom we owe our whole existence.

The same could be said for our search for beauty or the good. When we see a beautiful piece of art, or experience the beauty of a sunrise on the coast, we must treat that experience as an invitation to know God more. When we consider what is justice, or how we should live moral lives, we must treat it as an invitation as well. Our goal, in life, is not to be satisfied in anything but to know God more.

So instead of seeing deep thoughts about God as unnecessary and incomprehensible (though they are often like this), let's see them as invitations to know God more even if we end up more confused than we were to begin with. The point, again, is not satisfaction but hunger. And in the Christian life, that makes all the difference.

In closing, a simple benediction will suffice: May your hunger for God never be satisfied but drive you to seek intimacy with Him and participation in His works in this life and the next. Amen.

The Nature of Words (A Philosophical Account)

2011-10-05T16:41:00.001-04:00

Is it the nature of words to reveal? If we shall answer yes or no, we should be presented with the same situation: words, like any other human expression, need some account for what it is they intend to do and how they function within language. No one thinks of words devoid of language; that would be rather pointless. A word has no solitary existence. It exists only because other words exist alongside of it, within the framework that language provides.

The problem with the question, stated above, is that either answer—yes or no—seems possible and, given certain limits, mutually acceptable. Words must do something otherwise they would have no purpose and we would have no use for them. It is difficult to imagine life without words because we depend upon them so greatly. Our thoughts are filled with them and our conversations with others are dependent upon them. To be without words is impossible to imagine simply because our imagination needs them in order to construct and order that which we seek to imagine. Images certainly are in the realm of the visual but it would be hard to give life to what we see—or what we feel—had we not words to order and express such images. This is why it is possible to speak of words as a necessary component of human existence. Indeed, what goes for ‘being human’ would be hardly recognizable without them.

Given that words are essential to language and what makes us human, I think that an affirmative answer to the question posed above is our best answer. For reasons which will be demonstrated below, I think that an answer in the negative only confirms the affirmative answer that words do reveal. This point is hard to substantiate at this point—without further elaboration—but you will have to trust me pro tempore.

When it is stated affirmatively that words reveal we must ask another question before proceeding further: what or whom is being revealed by words? While it could address both the what and the whom, the answer which seems clearest to me is that words reveal the person whom is speaking. Since words have no revelatory power in themselves, it would be impossible to say that they do not reveal the person whom is speaking.

It is true, as some would point out, that words are invested with what humans put into them—sometimes resulting in many meanings so varied that they contradict one another. For instance, the word “guy” which is used, at the time of this writing (2011), to refer to both males and females, would be considered ridiculous not too many years ago, simply because the word “guy” used to refer only to males. This is one example, among many, which gives credence to the fact that words are invested with various meanings at various times by many different people.

One should not assume, however, that since words can be invested with meaning or meanings--almost arbitrarily in some cases—that one individual is doing all this work or that each individual decides, according to their own fancy, what meaning(s) belong to particular words. If either of those were the case, we would be left in linguistic chaos, a veritable social anomie, which would make all communication not only pointless but impossible. Language is constructed, and only viable, as a shared enterprise between large groups of people who already have previous traditions of meaning to work from. An individual could, of course, debate or suggest a new meaning for a word. But for it to be meaningful, and become a part of regular human intercourse, it will need the acceptance of others and continued practice to make it “stick.”

To think about words as revelations of ourselves, and to realize that it is only in the context of a community of persons that these words have meaning, then it is only natural to think of other people as the recipients of our revelation. (This can be extended to include God as well—though with some qualifications since God’s knowledge of us far exceeds anything we could express through words on our own.)

All language is a door to knowing and understanding others, along with, surprisingly, ourselves. As social animals, we are indebted to it because it makes it possible for us to communicate and, ultimately, to mature as living, thinking beings.

It should be pointed out at this point that words can reveal on two levels. Firstly, they can reveal bits and pieces of information that we would like to impart to others. Secondly, they can reveal who we are. It is the second of these which I am concerned with the most in this writing, even though the former is just as important, and just as infinitely remarkable.

That words can be revealing on so many levels is a great reminder of the power of communication. Any illusion that we might have of avoiding words and choosing them carelessly disrespects not only the speaker but language itself. Language is the great bedrock of all existence. It holds us up in our most secure and our most frail moments. Language is more than just a compilation or organization of words. Language is use and we are language. This is exactly what inclined some philosophers, like Derrida, to state that all we have is the text. I agree with this to the extent that language is a key to who we are as humans, though I tend to disagree with the implications that Derrida ascribed to such a situation, namely, that we never have the meaning (only the text!). Words are not dead-ends; they bring us to the end, however dimly that end may appear.

Consequently, how words reveal has more to do with how language works than with what is said. Take any sentence—this one, for instance—and you will find that because language is formed within human traditions, societies and communities, and because it is brought forth through the individual experiences of the speaker, that language lives as if it is a living organism. You can tell a lot about a person by how they use language and words—not in the sense that if they use it poorly then they are unintelligent or dumb but in the sense that how they speak or how they write is formed both from their community and their individual experiences.

Our rules for how to properly use language, of any dialect, are formed within the interplay of community and individual experience. To use grammar correctly and to pronounce words as they should be, for example, are rules which govern our communication. These rules do not exist in a vacuum. Nor are they arbitrary. They should be treated with respect—as anything living should be. Language is dynamic both with respect to its conception and to its use. We should not, therefore, be led to believe that all it is useful for is to communicate bits and pieces of information. It is so much more than that.

This is where run up against our first conceptual obstacle, however. As much as we would like to think that language, as it is designed and conceived, is able to perfectly communicate information and ourselves, we need to remind ourselves that sometimes language does not achieve its aims. Misinterpretation can, and does, occur all too frequently for us to naively think that language is perfect. As speakers it is also evident that sometimes words are hard to come by to describe how we truly feel and think. While language is certainly something we could not do without, it is sometimes the case that we would be better off without it considering all of the confusion and tumult it causes.

This then presents us with a dilemma: if we are to accept that words reveal, how do we account for the fact that sometimes language fails in its endeavors? This, as I stated above, is why it is possible to answer both positively and negatively to the question posed at the outset of this writing. Even so, I believe this to be a case of the “exception proves the rule.” In other words, that words do not achieve their purpose all the time, through misinterpretation or lack of potency, should be no cause for alarm—we should expect it. Just because there is a limitation to their revelatory power does not mean that they do not have the ability in the first place. On one level of revelation—that of revealing information—this might strain and exacerbate communication between people. But on the second level of revelation—that of revealing ourselves—words still reveal, however limited they may be. Whatever the case, we can say with confidence that words reveal. That their power to do so is limited should not disappoint us; rather it should give us a better idea of what it is that we are dealing with and, on a personal level, relieve us of the pressure to be perfect communicators all the time.

When I speak a word, strung together with other words, I am participating in an act which reveals, however imperfectly, who I am. Revealing myself through words need not be a conscious endeavor all the time. In other words, I do not have to intend to reveal myself through my words for myself to be revealed in them. Words are made to reveal; that is their purpose. How I speak, what words I choose, when I take a breath, how I slur or mumble my words, all indicate, on some level, who I am. So it is never the word alone which does the revealing; it is a concerted effort between my thoughts, speech patterns and word choice, among other things, which produce the revelation.

Too much time spent on analyzing particular words would not get us to the revelation of a person—at least on its own. Words themselves are not solitary revelators. It is the word spoken, thought and projected which reveals the person. Think of it this way: a word is the clay, or substance, which I have shaped in my mind to convey meaning through communication. I can only bend or shape the word in a set of limited ways to convey my meaning but I can still bend and shape it to fit my purpose. If I find the word to be insufficient for what I need, I move on to another one. And as I noted above, this need not be a conscious activity. Sometimes the act of finding a word is a seamless process maintained subconsciously or tacitly. This is what makes Freudian slips so interesting—and revealing.

That words are revelations of the self is a good reason why lying or not telling the truth is such an egregious act. Words are not meant to conceal; that is the opposite of their nature. Words used for the purpose of falsehood will never sustain the reality they support. Eventually it will all collapse. As some have said, “truth will find its way,” even if, as some others have said, “you can’t handle the truth.”

Even in the absence of words, revelation of the self is evident. Indeed, it is the fact that words reveal which makes silence all the more profound. This is why we are right in our suspicion of people who talk too much. We are inclined to ask, “What are they hiding behind so many words?” and “When will they stop and listen?” Those who remain silent are to be commended. It is not always a case of timidity or shyness that inclines one to silence. More often, it is respect, deep respect, for the power of words which makes silence a preferred position. I sometimes wish that silence were the default mode of all people but, then again, that makes some people anxious (anxiety in the face of silence would be a wonderful subject to explore more about).

Along with the silent, those who stumble over words should not be disparaged. Finding the right word, for the right moment, is arduous. (I wish we would stumble over our words more often. Maybe then we would not stumble ourselves, with our enormous pride, as much!) Nor should those who stumble over words be simply regarded as having a speech impediment. Certainly, there are those who struggle to speak as others do—for some reason found in the brain. But this does not undermine or cheapen the value of the words they do speak. I have, on occasion, in fact, heard some people speak, who have a so-called “speech impediment,” and felt the power and passion of their words more strongly than those without an impediment. Perhaps this is so because one must listen more closely, and sympathetically, when a person of this sort speaks. Hearing such a person speak reminds us that listening is our most humanly characteristic. It is the virtue, of all virtues, which makes it possible for us to be human and act humanely.

Listening is a key to the revelatory power of words because without listening we would miss revelation entirely. Along with lying, I can think of no other act as intolerable as inattentiveness in listening to another person speak. So much is missed. So much is ignored. And we are entirely at loss and at fault for it.

Words, as revelations of the self, are sacred. And they should be regarded as so—especially today. I can sympathize with those who decry the demise of good and proper English. I agree; more respect should be given to the language we speak. Except—I am not much concerned with the proper form of language as I am to the true purpose for it.

Words are given to us for the same reason we were created by God in God’s image—to be known and to know. That God chose to create by using words confirms their revelatory nature much more so than any philosophizing can do. This is why, for now, we must suspend our deliberation on words and wait for another writing which deals specifically with the “theology of words.”

Stay tuned for another day.

Authority and the Bible: On How to View the Bible Appropriately

2011-09-23T11:24:00.000-04:00

Any good Protestant knows that the Bible is not just a but the authority for faith. As I am a Christian, formed in the Protestant tradition--yet acknowledging that I am not sure what we are "protesting" anymore--I aspire to being a good Protestant, affirming what is bold and true in our tradition, while ignoring the more trivial and unappealing aspects. It is not that I am a picky Protestant. I only want to position myself under those aspects of the tradition which flow with life and ebullience; I much prefer this, as anyone, to those aspects which brim and boil with the toxicity of a cesspool.

There are some who accept the Protestant tradition holistically and without reservation. I am not one of them. My position as a Christian within the Protestant tradition owes itself to those branches (Methodist and Anabaptist) that were either reformulations or conspicuous rejections of other branches (Lutheran, Reformed, Presbyterian, Episcopal). Therefore--I am, as a Christian conditioned by his tradition, made in the image of my makers--I will sift, sort, amend, rehabilitate or ignore that which I feel betrays the Spirit of Christ. I do this not in a spirit of rebellion, as some are wanton to do, but rather as an expression of my deepest regard for the Word of God and the unity of Christ's church.

The doctrine, so named 'sola scriptura,' has been on my mind recently. Considering that I have never really written out what I think of this doctrine, I felt that I was due to organize my thoughts into my own personal position and make it public. College and seminary, along with my personal study, have greatly influenced how I have come to regard the Bible through the years. It only makes sense then that I begin the process of compiling my thoughts on this subject so that as I continue to learn--and hopefully grow in my faith--I will have something to compare my future thoughts with. I also hope that it will lead to edifying conversations amongst friends, as their perspective and advice has always been a most welcome aspect of my life.

It is always helpful to get a context for what one is trying to speak about. This is as true for the Bible as it is for politics, world news or relationships in general. History is our best source for learning about the context of the doctrine of sola scriptura. My intentions are to keep this history as brief and as general as possible so as to get to what this doctrine means to me sooner than later, as that is the point of this writing.

Meaning "scripture alone," sola scriptura is the distinctive Protestant doctrine that comes from the sixteenth-century reformers who argued, against the Roman Catholic church, that only Scripture is authoritative for the Christian faith. Like the doctrine of justification of faith, sola scriptura was a doctrine that the Reformers were proud to hand their hats upon. Some might even say that this doctrine is the essential doctrine of the Reformation. I don't know if that is true or not but it certainly appears that way. Additionally, sola scriptura along with justification of faith became the hallmarks of the Reformation not simply because they were in vogue but because they, as the reformers argued, put the church in its proper place and restored the true authority of faith to its proper source.

In time, as is evident in the current make-up of Protestant denominations, sola scriptura would be variously expressed by many Protestants of all times and places. Some interpretations of this doctrine, in fact, are so divergent from one another that it is difficult to see how most Protestants ever had anything in common with each other.

But this is what we should expect from a tradition that claims Scripture as its sole authority. There were always going to be people with different interpretations of the Bible--that much was and is obvious. The Protestant tradition therefore, from its very beginning, was built upon a fault line which consisted of human fallibility on one side and divine infallibility apparently on the other. Someone, somewhere along the line, was going to differ with another person over something they read in the Bible. It was inevitable. One could not expect divine instruction to come completely unmediated to every individual Christian in such a way that every Christian would a.) understand that instruction, b.) not be personally deceived by their own sin and limitations and c.) agree with every other Christian that what they received was truly of God.

That the Bible should be our sole authority for faith is obvious--but without further explanation of what that means we are doomed to either self-glorification or disappointment. Either way the options are not good. We must define this doctrine. And if we have any hope of remaining within the Protestant tradition--as I hope to do--this is our only option, otherwise our faith will be belied by our ignorance.

Certain things, however, must be avoided when we define this doctrine. For one, we must avoid the tendency to make the Bible into something more, or less, than what it truly is. On one hand, you have the extreme of making the Bible into something divine or equal to it. This position, known as biblicism, errs on the side of trying to make the Bible something more than what it is. At the other end, with the opposite extreme, you have the position that makes the Bible into something less than what it truly is. In this position, which has various names, people treat the Bible as mere literature or a collection of superstitious and religious irrationality. I think both extremes are unhelpful, and so, for any definition of the doctrine to be reasonable, these must be avoided.

The fault of these extremes is that they both have, in one way or another, the same (mis)understanding of authority. As I see it, for my definition of authority, authority is something that governs or sets parameters for the conduct of something or someone else. I think that anyone can agree with this definition of authority--even those who hold to either of these extremes.

In their desire to see authority fulfill modernist demands, however, people within both of these extremes want to take another step beyond my basic definition. This next step, encouraged by modernism's emphasis on certitude and proof, wants to see if the Bible can provide the certainty and proof that the modern mind requires in order for one to respect it. Now, as we all know, respect of authority is important; it might even be an essential part to what makes authority authoritative. But, with modernist encouragement, people are led to believe that respect for the Bible can only be guaranteed if the Bible lives up to our demand for certainty. Sadly, Christians have fallen for this trap. This is why we either end up in biblicism--as some Evangelical circles have done--or in rejecting the Bible completely as a source for authority--as those who have either claimed another authority for faith or those who supposedly left the faith have done. The problem with both is that they have accepted a false premise for authority--and this has made a mighty mess of things.

If the Bible is going to be authoritative so that we don't make it into something that satisfies our ideas of what respectable authority looks like, we need to embrace a minimalist definition of what this minimalist doctrine expresses. In other words, we need to embrace sola scriptura without adding to it. Unnecessary baggage, in this case, will only overload this doctrine and make it not only something that would be unrecognizable to Martin Luther, John Calvin, or Ulrich Zwingli but would be incomprehensible to any sensible person today.

For sola scriptura, then, we cannot mean that Scripture stands alone apart from God, that it is the only source for faith (even if it is the supreme or primal authority for Christian living), that it possesses any inherent quality which makes it holy or inspired, or that it is a book which offers answers to every question imaginable (including geographical and scientific details).

The authority of the Bible is simply that as a witness to the revelation of God in Christ it is the document--indeed the only document--that can claim authority for the life of a Christian. But we must follow this directly with the statement--as obvious as it may sound--that the Bible is only an authority because it is our primary and supreme witness to Christ.

With this, we cannot mean that the Bible is in itself the revelation of God. Only Christ can lay claim to such a concept. But what makes the Bible unique--among all other sources for faith, such as, experience, tradition, church and reason--is that this is the document that God has chosen to reveal Christ, in and through, in such a way so as to embolden and edify our salvation and faith.

What we mean when we say sola scriptura is that even though the Bible alone is our source for faith it can only be such as a document dependent upon what God wants it to be and as a source for faith that needs the assistance of other (human) means to interpret it. This is why the Wesleyan Quadrilateral (which consists of Scripture, experience, tradition and reason) is helpful, even if it has been misused and wrongly attributed to John Wesley himself.

We must state Scripture as our sole authority for faith but only if we do so without taking it too literally so that we forget that interpretation demands assistance other sources like tradition and the church or so that we do not add to it anything unnecessary or superfluous. This might seem like an impossible position to maintain but it remains our only hope of expressing this doctrine sensibly.

Personally, as far as I am concerned, Christians err more on the side of adding to this doctrine than taking it too literally. Those who take it too literally often do so naively without much thought concerning what it means. Yet those who add to it do so fully understanding what they are doing. This is why adding to the doctrine is more dangerous than taking it literally. In my experience, those who wish to add to sola scriptura, do so, as a result of the modernist controversy, so that they can maintain their respect for the authority of Scripture and uphold their theology without any speck of doubt.

Specifically, I have in mind those who wish to speak of this doctrine by claiming the inerrancy of Scripture. Not only do I find this to be insensible but it seems superfluous to me to insist on the inherent quality of something, so that we can accept its authority, if the very thing we wish to insist upon is not dependent upon itself but upon a Higher Authority, namely God, as revealed in Christ. The problem is--and this is what is, for me at least, the fatal blow to inerrancy--by using one doctrine (inerrancy) to support the legitimacy of another (sola scriptura) we need to have additional proofs to support the doctrine that supposedly supports the other. What a ridiculous situation that is! It's like building a house of bricks upon a house of sticks.

The reason I can say that we need more supporting proofs for inerrancy is that we have to defend the reason or reasons we can make such a claim about the Bible. This is a colossal waste of time. And the only way it can be supported, in my mind, is to constantly infantize our faith so that we never realize our mistake. (On a side note, those who have claimed such a doctrine as inerrancy and found that its fetters are too restrictive for a living, growing faith in Christ have usually ended in despair or a loss of faith. I know this to be personally be true, especially as I struggled with this issue in college. Thanks be to God, I found out that my problem was with how I viewed the Bible not with the Bible itself).

The Bible is a book, just like any other book but, at the same time, so completely unlike any other book. What makes for its authority, of course, is the revelation of God in and through it (2 Tim. 3:16). But its power is in the fact that it changes lives. How it does this is a mystery only God can understand. But I suspect that its power lies principally in the fact that as it relates the story of God and His relationship with Israel and humankind it calls us to participate in this same story--the story which has been going on since the beginning of time. This is what makes the Bible so different from any other book. The story it tells is true but it is true in the sense that the story it tells is a story which demands our participation. We cannot read Scripture, for that matter, and not feel inclined to see ourselves in its story and be transformed as a result. This is the most adequate definition I can find for what sola scriptura means.

The Bible is the one book that allows us to ask questions of God without demanding an exact answer every time simply because, even without a direct answer, we know that we are in God's hands since, as people of the Book, we are participants in His story and interlocutors with the conversation God has been having with the world since He spoke creation into being (Gen. 1). We trust the Bible from this standpoint, and only from this standpoint. It is the precipice, of all precipices, on which our faith hangs most safely and assuredly, even if, when surveying our situation, our faith seems precarious. Faith is built upon the ground of trust supported by the guidance and direction that the Bible gives us.

This is what, to me, the doctrine of sola scriptura means.

Reading and Conversation: Two Arts with One Vitality

2011-09-15T22:29:00.001-04:00

I have a strange habit, when reading a book, of doing so pen-in-hand. Though the situation usually results in pen-in-mouth--because I like to chew on pens--I read with a pen handy simply for the purpose of making sure that if I find anything noteworthy or especially significant I am ready to mark it for posterity sake, for the chance that I might someday return to the book to re-learn what I had learned the first time through. And I like this process because I like my books and I like to engage them from time to time. I have a relationship with them; one founded with deep respect and gratitude. If this makes me a bibliophile then I have no reason to refuse the label. It is who I am and it is what I do.

Consider what David Tracy has to say on this matter: "If we read well, then we are conversing with the text. No human being is simply a passive recipient of texts. We inquire. We question. We converse. Just as there is no purely autonomous text, so too there is no purely passive reader. There is only that interaction named conversation." (Taken from: Plurality and Ambiguity, pg. 12)

My habit of pen-in-hand does not sound so strange considering Tracy's statement that one cannot read and remain passive. I am willing to admit, by fault solely my own, that ink sometimes finds its way onto things other than the pages of the book I am reading--most notably my clothes--but this takes nothing away from the fact that my habit, however formed and however hard it is to break, is purely my way of interacting with the text.

Reading is an act of conversation between the reader and the text. Strangely, in an act which by all appearances seems to be an act of suspended activity, when one is reading, one is engaging on a level comparable to conversation with a spouse or a confidant. No wonder bibliophiles have such crazed fidelity to their precious books!

One can only wonder at what effects reading can have on other types of conversation, that is, with actual human beings. (There are some who will charge that when we read we are conversing with another human being, especially when we personally know the person we are reading from, as in a letter or correspondence. I will counter by saying that that is too naive a view of what is truly the case. A letter between friends may give off the impression that one is encountering the other but in truth what they are encountering is a product produced by that person not the person-as-a-person.) My thought, specifically, is: Does reading make us better conversationalists?

Prima facie, most will respond negatively. As I would myself. Many readers, especially of the voracious variety, are typically socially awkward or are in no way gregarious (probably as a result of their overly bookish qualities). Here, though, I think we would be mistaken to come to such a conclusion.

Consider another statement from David Tracy: "Conversation is a game with some hard rules: say only what you mean; say it as accurately as you can; listen to and respect what the other says, however different or other; be willing to correct or defend your opinions if challenged by the conversation partner; be willing to argue if necessary, to confront if demanded, to endure necessary conflict, to change your mind if the evidence suggests it." (Ibid., 19)

If that is the standard for what conversation is then reading becomes all the more important. I have said before, and it bears repeating here, that reading is a safe environment for forming these necessary skills for conversation. Those who read, and who do so on a regular basis, should be able to play the rules of conversation that Tracy so profoundly commends. (Though, I will admit, many do not.)

True--what goes for conversation these days looks nothing like what Tracy says. It is easy to see that. But this is more a mark of an overly self-indulgent culture than a failure of not reading; that is, we take our individualism so seriously that it pervades all activities, even ones that are, or should be, focused on others.

Perhaps that is too harsh, or perhaps it is a gross overstatement of reality (or worse, a false report of a false reality). I will admit that there have always been self-indulgent people who love to hear the sound of their own voice and only graciously await the end of another person's speaking so that they may put in their own words. Such sorts are rare--in most quarters, that is, in others (elitist ones) not so much--so this does not justify in itself the conclusion that modern people are not good conversationalists. What makes for its justification is that our supposed conversations lack the quality that Tracy alludes to. I mean, seriously, how often do we have conversations like the one he describes? And be honest.

Our society is too fast-paced, too artificial to allow the quality of conversation to reach the level that Tracy describes. Maybe, one might suggest, this means that Tracy is an idealist, setting too lofty of an aspiration for humankind to every reach. Perhaps. But I will side with Tracy; conversation seems so much more interesting, and virtuous, from his perspective to reject it completely.

My inclination, in reflecting upon reading and conversation, is to think that the two are interlocked; that reading makes us better at conversation, and that conversation gives us insight into our reading. I recently had a conversation with a friend about Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Our conversation encouraged me to pick up a biography on him, and I find, as I read, that I am constantly recalling the conversation we had together. This is exactly the effect conversation can have on our reading. I am sure, given that so much of my reading informs my conversation with others, that reading has a similar effect on conversation.

I believe in these effects so much that I can sense when I am speaking to a "reader." It is the way they carry themselves in the dialogue; how they navigate the intricacies of an argument; and how they remain respectful and understanding even when the conversation gets heated and disagreements become frictious.

I do not wish to sound as if I am claiming that only readers can be good conversationalists. That is not my intention, nor do I think it the truth. I have met many good conversationalists who possess the qualities Tracy describes. But, if I offer any critique of them, it is that I think of them as dancers without a partner, musicians without their instrument--as if they are missing something consequential to who they really are. I know that, from my own personal experiences, that if I have gone awhile without reading, I feel the same way I do when I have failed to talk to my family for some time. I realize that I can live without talking to my family but to do so makes life seem strange and misplaced. Such is my experience with reading; without it I am parted from what makes me 'me.'

And this is exactly why these two arts--reading and conversation--produce one vitality for all of humankind to enjoy.

What I Have Learned About My Reading Habits: Or, to read is to be human

2011-09-02T14:24:00.004-04:00

Reading is more than a simple act. It is an art, indeed the art, that makes us who we are. Reading is as human as breathing, though certainly in different ways. While breathing is a biological necessity, reading is an intellectual necessity. Reading cultivates human growth and it ignites the desire to learn, to know and, strangely, to be known.

When we read, it is in those moments as we read line after line that we come face to face with humanity and what it truly is. Reading is a deeply moral, spiritual and intellectual affair. Reading, in fact, unites all of our human capacities--to think, to feel, to process, to doubt, to live--into a unified whole. Without reading we are tragically ill-equipped to face the world. This is why it is tragic that so many do not know how to read, or worse, do not want to do so.

I am asked, often by perplexed inquirers, why it is that I read so much, and at such a ferocious rate (Note to reader: I read 5-6 books at a time). My answer to such a question has taken many forms throughout the years but in general I respond by saying something to the effect that "it is what I do." The proof, as it is, as to why I read so much, is in reading itself. You cannot possibly know why I do so much reading without reading for yourself. Reading is a verb which takes place in the context of a noun--a book, a magazine, an article--but it also inducts us into the wider narrative of what being a human means. As Aristotle could not imagine a human without the Greek city-state, I find it difficult to imagine humanity without reading.

This is, of course, not to imply that those who do not read are not human, even though the above could be taken to mean that very thing. My definition of reading--an act done by those who are literate--is not meant to degrade those who cannot read (the illiterate) or do not desire to do so (the aliterate). Reading, as an act of literacy, is dependent upon language, and since language is a shared-trait among humans, universally and particularly, other acts, such as conversation, story-telling and dialogue, are necessary presuppositions in order for literacy to be meaningful. To be human does not necessarily mean that one read, but it would be impossible to be human without language or stories. My statement that 'to read is to be human' should be interpreted to mean that reading is an embodiment of language not as an elitist critique of the illiterate. All humans live and tell stories, and for that reason are human because of the stories that are told and enacted. Reading is simply one of the ways--the most vital, in my view--to participate in language and stories.

All of this sounds philosophical--unsurprisingly, considering my tendencies--but I have learned from my practice of reading, including my habits, several things about myself. Self-knowledge, I believe, is one of the most frequent and natural results of reading, and it is why I cherish reading as much as I do. Reading is like a practice field or a rehearsal stage for discovering our-selves; it is a safe, kind (though not without challenge or conflict) and most profitable arena for uncovering who we are and who we want to be.

Here is, listed randomly, what I have learned from my reading:

1. Poetry is the most finicky of all literary genres to read--This sounds as if poetry has a personality but what I mean by it is that poetry, when read, needs an appropriate atmosphere, otherwise the experience is dull and jaded. As an example, when reading poetry one needs to find a place in nature or in a spot where one can savor the full effect of the poetry one is reading. One cannot read poetry on-the-go or on the toilet (trust me on this one, it doesn't work!). I have also found that certain poets work well in certain enviornmets where other poets might not work. Reading the poetry of Yeats might work well by the sea but a Dante not so much. This all proves what I stated above that poetry is "finicky"--even though it is the person who is reading that must be finicky about their reading enviornment rather than the poetry itself.

2. When reading mutliple books at a time (not in the same sitting, of course), it is a good idea to read different sorts (genres, fiction, non-fiction, etc.) to keep your mind straight. Generally, it is a good idea to challenge yourself by reading different types of books (history, philosophy, poetry) instead of the same ones over and over again (like only reading fictional crime books). Your mind will be better off as a result. But if you do find yourself reading several books at one time, it is best to make sure that none of your books "overlap." By this I mean books that have the same topic (theology, history, etc.) or genre (science fiction, etc.). It is certainly possible to do so but I have found that I remember books better if I read only one fictional book at a time, or only one philosophy book at a time. It also helps, especially in my case, to read more than I would if I only read one book at a time. Reading one book after some time gets boring and I want to put it down for the next day; but, if I am reading multiple books, even if I get tired of one, I can still carry on reading other books because they are so different from one another. I am not sure if this works for everyone, as we all have different reading habits. But, for myself especially, it helps me begin and finish more books in a year than I would by reading one at a time.

3. Put down a bad book--I struggled with this one for a long time. I used to believe it a crime against literature to begin a book but not finish it--even if it wasn't a particularly good book. But, I must say, after reading several books that did not spark my interest or cultivate my intellect, that it is best to put down a bad book. There are so many classics out there, that if one ends up reading a book that only insults your intelligence, you will most certainly miss out on better experiences. So many times I have found myself reading a book by a writer or author that just does not get my mental juices flowing that I justify putting the book down by acknowledging that I could be reading from a Dostoevsky or a Dickens instead and find myself in a better situation. Where, when and how to put a book down will depend upon the reader. But don't feel ashamed for doing so; you are committing no crime.

On Suffering: Discovering a Christian Perspective

2011-08-22T12:45:00.007-04:00

In an effort to bypass all fluff in my typical lengthy introductions, let me get right to the point: This post is an effort to discover how a Christian should think of pain and suffering in his or her personal life. I focus on personal suffering because, in my mind, this is an area that receives slim attention in most debates concerning "suffering." Most of the time, when we consider the issue of suffering, we end up somewhere in the realm of "how do I comfort others in their time of need," considering every dimension that that realm holds, and usually ending in a stalemate with the question of all questions--"Why do people suffer?" or its close relative "Why does a good God allow evil to exist?"

These questions are worthy of consideration, even if we never end up with a solid response. But for this post I will focus on what it means to be a Christian in the midst of suffering. I won't pretend that by narrowing in on this particular area that it will settle all issues. Nor will I pretend that by leaving out the grand questions about the reason and purpose of suffering that these questions are not some of the most important ones we could ever face as Christians. I simply want to consider suffering from the personal standpoint of a Christian to see what kind of a response can be formulated. I have no other motivations in doing so than simply in the curiosity to see what is discovered. It is possible that what is discovered could shed light on the larger issues concerning suffering; then again, it is possible that it won't. Which one will it be? We will have to wait and find out.

The muse for my exploration into the issue of suffering in the life of a Christian came upon me while I was reading the twelfth chapter of Hebrews. What I read there took root in my mind and germinated into the exposition that follows.

But first, the passage:

Hebrews 12:3-11 (NIV)

'3 Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.
4 In your struggle against sin, you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood. 5 And have you completely forgotten this word of encouragement that addresses you as a father addresses his son? It says,
“My son, do not make light of the Lord’s discipline,
and do not lose heart when he rebukes you,
6 because the Lord disciplines the one he loves,
and he chastens everyone he accepts as his son.”
7 Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as his children. For what children are not disciplined by their father? 8 If you are not disciplined—and everyone undergoes discipline—then you are not legitimate, not true sons and daughters at all. 9 Moreover, we have all had human fathers who disciplined us and we respected them for it. How much more should we submit to the Father of spirits and live! 10 They disciplined us for a little while as they thought best; but God disciplines us for our good, in order that we may share in his holiness. 11 No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.'

When you read this passage the first thing you are struck by is the intimate metaphor of the "father-son" relationship. Quoting Proverbs 3:11-12, the author of Hebrews uses the "father-son" relationship as an encouragement to carry on in the faith and to accept suffering as a form of discipline "for our good, in order that we may share in his holiness" (v. 10). The example of Christ's suffering is therefore the archetype for how Christians experience suffering.

Now, I do not read anything in this chapter, or the rest of the book of Hebrews for that matter, that would suggest that it is our duty to search out "suffering" as Christians. Many Christians have done this in the past, whether that was in searching out persecution or martyrdom for their faith or not, and their piety for doing so is not only troubling but morally unsatisfactory. I do not believe that this is what the author of Hebrews enjoins his readers to do. What the author expects from his readers is to be firm in their faith and to not fall away (Hebrews 6), despite what occurs to them. In Hebrews 10: 32-39, in particular, the author commends his readers as people who have not backed down from their faith despite all the terrible things that have happened to them (and some of these things are quite shocking, to be honest).

With this, we are brought to a serious fork in the road concerning the nature of suffering in this passage. On the one hand, as is clearly evident in Hebrews, we have a path in which suffering from persecution is to be expected and is quite obviously meant by the author as a type of suffering which helps Christians to share in God's holiness (the example of Christ's suffering proves this point). On the other hand, there is another path, going off in another direction, which concerns suffering from things not specifically tied to persecution.

We have to ask ourselves: Does the author of Hebrews permit us to take the path "which concerns suffering not connected to persecution" in applying this passage to our lives, so that any and all suffering is effective in bringing the Christian closer to God? I can't say for sure either way but I have to believe that, even if it is not explicitly mentioned, one must conclude that all types of suffering, according to the author of Hebrews, must lead us closer to God. (I don't have the time to go into why I think this is but I will point out that since the author uses the "father-son" relationship as a metaphor for the "discipline" that he sees coming from suffering, that the writer would not use a family image if he was only speaking of the suffering that comes from persecution).

I will admit. This is a bitter pill to swallow. And, for a variety of reasons, I have difficulty accepting what the writer of Hebrews is saying. Moreover, I believe that I would have a hard time telling a fellow Christian suffering from terminal cancer that they should view their suffering as a means of "discipline" in which they can come closer to God. Indeed, I imagine that hospital chaplains rarely, if ever, quote from Hebrews 12 when they are comforting a Christian patient who is suffering.

Does this leave us with an impasse? Are we at yet another stalemate when considering the issue of suffering? I don't think so.

In fact, when the author of Hebrews speaks of suffering from the Christian perspective, he is doing just that--speaking from the Christian perspective concerning suffering. The author is not attempting to explain the nature of suffering or why it is occurring, from a purely philosophical standpoint. If we treated the passage this way we would never get anywhere. What I think he is telling us is that suffering should be viewed as God's discipline. Of course, I don't think you should do what some have done and willingly take on suffering, self-inflicted or not, so that you can feel closer to God. The point is not, in my mind, that suffering brings us closer to God but that for the Christian God uses suffering to bring us closer to God. The difference between these two makes all the difference. There is nothing in suffering in and by itself that brings us to God. It is only what God does in the midst of our suffering that brings us closer to God in holiness. And this should be an encouragement to us, as Christians, because it proves to us that God speaks to us through everything. Indeed, God speaks!

C.S. Lewis once said that "God whispers to us in our pleasure, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world." (The Problem of Pain). Lewis, of course, was forced to amend this statement later on (read A Grief Observed) due to the fact that it is an inadequate portrayal of suffering in general but when applied from the Christian perspective on one's own life it can be quite truthful. For all my problems with Lewis, I think this quote adequately summarizes the message of Hebrews 12: 3-11.

And so, as a Christian, I can see my suffering used by God to discipline me in my faith so that I can grow closer to God. Any attempt to argue or quarrel with God over my suffering demonstrates a shallow faith on my part. As F.F. Bruce says, "the person who accepts discipline at the hand of God as something designed by his [or her] heavenly Father for his [or her] goodwill will cease to feel resentful and rebellious; he [or she] has 'calmed and quieted' his [or her] soul, which thus provides fertile soil for the cultivation of a righteous life, responsive to the will of God" (NICNT: Hebrews, pg. 346).

Does this settle the issue of suffering in general? Hardly. Will everyone be satisfied by it? Not likely. Will most people who read this want to go further and deal with the issue of evil? Most likely. Can we learn from this passage a truth about what it means to be a Christian? Well, I will leave that one to you. Can you?

Jay-Z and Kanye: Religion for the Irreverent

2011-08-16T22:24:00.008-04:00

Out of the loop? You might be. Especially if you had no idea that Jay-Z and Kanye West will release an album together on August 23rd.

You might not care to be out of the loop, considering these two figures might not interest you in the slightest.

It doesn't matter, either way. And I would not be mentioning them in my blog if I had no theological reason for doing so (I mean, would I dare taint the holy purpose of this blog without one? I think not!)

My interest in either figure is rather minimal. I thought Kanye's most recent album was crazy good, in a trashy sort of way. And Jay-Z knows how to put it down, in a lyrically savvy sort of way. For those reasons, I can appreciate them from a distance--a safe distance. As with all celebrities, I have no desire to idolize or center my life around them. These two in particular have talent, no doubt; I won't dispute that fact. But other than that I find nothing appealing about them that would warrant any prolonged interest in their lives--even though, on a whim, I read some of Jay-Z's memoir (rappers do this now?) and was sort of impressed (extra emphasis on "sort of").

To get to the point, unless I have lost your interest at this point, their new song, "No Church in the Wild," both impressed and startled me, and, for this reason, I felt the need to pull out a little reflection on how I interpret the meaning of this song. Surprisingly, this song is one of the most theologically expressive songs I have heard from either artist. Other than the occasional line here and there, I don't think that they have ever written something so explicitly theological.

Up front, I will admit that the song could have multiple meanings. One could even argue that it has layers of meaning; but that, in my mind, might in itself be giving too much credit to Jay-Z and Kanye. Consequently, it might very well be the case that my exposition of this song is completely off-base in its interpretation (but does that even matter to people, especially nowadays?). True, I am of the opinion that for language to work, grammatically and logically, it must have common and universal meanings, otherwise language is like a Goodwill or thrift store--it contains the contents of whatever people put in there. And what you would get, from anyone inserting whatever they thought the meaning for such and such a thing, is nothing but chaos.

My reflection on this song, I can say confidently, is based on what I think the song means but when I say that this is what I think it means I have the goal at arriving at what the lyrics of this song actually say--if they say anything at all, especially as Jay-Z and Kanye West intended.

The song begins with a hook:

Human being to the mob
What’s a mob to a king?
What’s a king to a god?
What’s a god to a non-believer?
Who don’t believe in anything?

This is your common comparative analysis, adapted by Hova and Kanye to compare the most inferior to the most superior. If you look at their progression, they begin with a human being then move on to a mob (collection of angry human beings), compare it to a king, move on to god and finally end with a non-believer.
What is this saying? That power rests in the non-believer, would be the simple answer. But I think what it truly says, and this indicates a major part of our culture, is that the absence of "belief in anything" is the all powerful force shaping, and in the same breath destroying, all meaning. This is indicated by the last line, describing a culture of people "who don't believe in anything." What was once human, mob, king, god and belief, now bows to nothing--except meaninglessness.

Does this mean that Jay-Z and Kanye are proponents of nihilism? I think to say "yes" would be a stretch. I do not see any evidence in these lyrics, or the rest of the song, to make such a judgment. What it does indicate to me, rather than nihilism, is the growing and indomitable force known as expressivism. Like individualism, expressivism is the embodiment of the principle of "do whatever you like" because it is your right as an individual to do so. It is not evident where this principle comes from--in most cases its origin and its use have no connection to any explicit definition made by its adherents. But that doesn't matter. The principle of expressivism is realized without any rationale or need to define itself. It is the definition of making no definition a definition of itself. Confusing? Yes, by all means. But its appeal coincides with the fact that it produces a sense of freedom--unbound from society, religion, or anything else--in virtue of "expressing oneself."

Jay-Z and Kanye West are not the only adherents of expressivism. Nor are they its progenitors. But, what they are, is its evangelists and theologians. Yeah...I know, it sounds strange using that language for these figures, but it is exactly what they would be in Christian terminology and practice.

They not only make convincing, powerful music (their evangelism) but they do so reflectively and unabashedly (as theologians of they culture they embody and support).

After the hook, we hear from Jay-Z and Kanye, on their own terms, the undiluted message of expressivism. First Jay-Z:

Tears on the mauseoleum floor
Blood stains the coliseum doors
Lies on the lips of a priest
Thanksgiving disguised as a feast
Rollin’ in the Rolls-Royce Corniche
Only the doctors got this, I’m hidin’ from police
Cocaine seats
All white like I got the whole thing bleached
Drug dealer chic
I’m wonderin’ if a thug’s prayers reach
Is Pious pious cause God loves pious?
Socrates asks, “Whose bias do y’all seek?”
All for Plato, screech
I’m out here ballin’, I know ya’ll hear my sneaks
Jesus was a carpenter, Yeezy, laid beats
Hova flow the Holy Ghost, get the hell up out your seats
Preach

I must admit. I was impressed with Jay-Z in this part of the song. That he mentions an argument from Socrates in Plato's "Euthyphro," caught me completely off-guard. He only quotes half of it, but he does provide Socrates' main point in the dialogue, with his own translation ("Whose bias do y'all seek?"). Pretty impressive.

Even with that, I don't think Jay-Z is using this argument to lead his listeners on a quest for the truth. I think he employs it to do something to the effect of supporting his own conclusions about morality. That is, he wants us to see that the good, or morality in general, is not as simple as looking to god for instruction. If god does not create the good or the truly moral, why do we need the divine? Wouldn't we be better off without a god that we need for instruction on the good life? Indeed, if your "bias," in Jay-Z's words, is to side with God creating morality or with morality being unrelated to God, the fundamental quandary is "I'm wonderin' if a thug's prayers reach." Is God out there? Does it matter?

Jay-Z, especially in the early part of these lyrics, brings up the ole "religion has done evil" card. I don't think anyone would dispute that; it is quite easy to demonstrate the horrible things religion has done. But what I appreciated in Jay-Z's assessment is that he contrasts the church with life on the streets. It is in this context that Jay-Z's quandary comes into full force--given the differences between religion and life on the streets, who is more authentic, the priest, with "lies on the lips", or the thug, living in a world completely disconnected from the one which religion purports?

Jay-Z's description of his "Rolls-Royce" is very effective in making the point that such a car, for a thug, is only evidence of the worst assumptions--he must be a drug dealer. It is no wonder then that he feels inclined to say "I'm hidin' from police."

In the end of Jay-Z's part he turns the mic over to his audience: "Preach." Again, expressivism at its finest (or worst, depending on your convictions). Say what you have to say. Express yourself.

And now to Kanye whose lyrics do not express as much depth as Jay-Z's but they do carry on the theme of expressivism, right where Jay-Z left off. His flow is his evangelism, and what we hear him say is a candid description of what life submerged in expressivism looks like. (WARNING: There is some explicit content in these lyrics, which might not be suitable for all audiences).

Coke on her black skin made a stripe like a zebra
I call that jungle fever
You will not control the threesome
Just roll the weed up until I get me some
We formed a new religion
No sins as long as there’s permission’
And deception is the only felony
So never f-ck nobody wit’out tellin’ me
Sunglasses and Advil
Last night was mad real
Sun comin’ up, 5 a.m.
I wonder if they got cabs still
Thinkin’ ’bout the girl in all-leopard
Who was rubbin’ the wood like Kiki Shepard
Two tattooes, one read “No Apologies”
The other said “Love is cursed by monogamy”
That’s somethin’ that the pastor don’t preach
That’s somethin’ that a teacher can’t teach
When we die, the money we can’t keep
But we prolly spend it all ’cause the pain ain’t cheap
Preach

I don't think I need to explain much here. Kanye does it pretty well himself. What he describes is very aptly what a culture of expressivism looks like. As he points out, "We formed a new religion; no sins as long as there's permission." Yep. That is an adequate description, if I have ever heard one, of what expressivism is really about.

Egotism and individualism, you have run your course--we now have expressivism. And it is here to say (for now, at least, until people begin to realize just how unsatisfactory it is, and move onto something else). Kanye is the grand preacher. His life demonstrates it. In fact, his life is a tragic one in that, as the preacher, I think Kanye understands the culture of expressivism more than anyone else. This is why he constantly says and does things that make him look, well, in kind words, really stupid. He knows what we all deny, or rather do not have the courage to do, that expressivism is the new religion--so why not do what you want?

As I conclude this post, I do want to point out that it was not my intention to use this song as a way to morally indict Jay-Z or Kanye West for what they proclaim and practice. What I wanted to do is point out what is at work in their lyrics and why this song is the perfect demonstration of what our culture is really about.

Now that I have done the analysis, let's see what you have to say about expressivism and how Christianity can interact with it. Any takers?

The Problem with Crazy and Radical Christian Books

2011-08-12T14:47:00.009-04:00

I will admit that I rarely read what is shelved in most Christian sections of bookstores. Other than N.T. Wright and Eugene Peterson, I browse Christian book sections shocked at what I find. I find myself thinking: Is this really what sells these days? Have we lowered our standards that much?

I guess this could be blamed on the book industry in general. With the rise in publication of any writer, the quality in books has gone down tremendously. For good writers this must be quite insulting. Not only is there the struggle to get published (which seems strange in an age when anyone can get published) but writers do so knowing that many other people who have no talent or skill in writing are making loads of money off of books that would receive negative marks in most high school English classes.

My problem with many Christian books cannot be limited to their bad writing, however. I understand that most people have difficulty with reading comprehension. This is why 75% of people never read another book after they graduate high school. You cannot expect, as a result, that if one of those people decided to pick up a book by chance that they would read a Voltaire, Dostoevsky or Locke. That would overwhelm them. So I am not picking on Christian books because their writing is inferior to a Tolstoy or Lewis. Books must be written to meet the needs of the populace.

For Christian writers who want to teach a populace that struggles with reading comprehension about God, the Bible, or the gospel, there is indeed biblical precedent for writing in the language of the people--even if that writing is well below standard. No one biblical passage proves this point--the Bible itself, and how it was written, establishes that God speaks to people in a language they understand. The Greek New Testament, written in Koine Greek, the common, colloquial language at the time, proves this point. In fact for years scholars of the Bible were embarrassed that the biblical language proved so inferior to many of the Greek classics of the period. Truth is, the Bible is not written to amaze us with its style but with its substance, as it points us to God.

Again, my problem is not with the writing style (or lack thereof of) of these books. That would be unfair and way too easy. What I am concerned with is what these books teach. And no, lest you find yourself ready to hear some controversy, I don't think they teach anything heretical. I am not one of those persons who brings out the charge of "heresy" any time I find something that either differs from my beliefs or utilizes a method I disapprove of.

My problem, simply stated, is that they say the same thing--albeit in a slightly different way. In particular, as I have observed these last few years, many Christian authors have followed the trend of presenting Christianity as something radical or extreme. Emergents have done it. Conservatives have done it. Fundamentalists have done it. Methodists. Baptists. You name it; they have all done it.

To be clear, in case I have not articulated it well enough already, I do not have a problem with what they teach so much as the fact that they all teach the same thing again and again. Even teachers/pastors whom I admire greatly have done this, so there is no bias against those whom I do not esteem very highly. (Now, I will admit, that there are some teachers/pastors who cause me to squirm every time I hear their name. This is not because I do not like them personally or because I think they are horrible teachers. It is because they really don't know what they are doing most of the time. For example, they see things in the Bible that are not there; they use words in ways that make no sense, grammatically or logically; their theological systems have not matured or thought out, and so on. These are the things that frustrate me to no end.)

To give you some examples of what I am talking about, I give you three very popular books: Crazy Love by Francis Chan, Radical by David Platt, and Not A Fan. by Kyle Idleman. Instead of going into detail about what these books say (I have not read them all thoroughly enough to give you a detailed analysis. And I am willing to bet, even if I did, you wouldn't be that interested in it), I will give you parts from the book descriptions.

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Crazy Love -- "Does something deep inside your heart long to break free from the status quo? Are you hungry for an authentic faith that addresses the problems of our world with tangible, even radical, solutions? God is calling you to a passionate love relationship with Himself. Because the answer to religious complacency isn’t working harder at a list of do’s and don’ts--it’s falling in love with God. And once you encounter His love, as Francis Chan describes it, you will never be the same. Because when you’re wildly in love with someone, it changes everything."

Radical -- "What is Jesus worth to you? It's easy for American Christians to forget how Jesus said his followers would actually live, what their new lifestyle would actually look like. They would, he said, leave behind security, money, convenience, even family for him. They would abandon everything for the gospel. They would take up their crosses daily...But who do you know who lives like that? Do you?"

Not A Fan -- "Are you a follower of Jesus? Don't answer too quickly. In fact, you may want to read this book before you answer at all. Consider it a 'Define the Relationship' conversation to determine exactly where you stand. You may indeed be a passionate, fully devoted follower of Jesus. Or, you may be just a fan who admires Jesus but isn't ready to let him cramp your style. Then again, maybe you're not into Jesus, period. In any case, don't take the question---Are you a follower of Jesus?---lightly. Some people don't know what they've said yes to and other people don't realize what they've said no to, says Pastor Kyle Idleman. But Jesus is ready to clearly define the relationship he wants with his followers. Not a Fan calls you to consider the demands and rewards of being a true disciple. With frankness sprinkled with humor, Idleman invites you to live the way Jesus lived, love the way he loved, pray the way he prayed, and never give up living for the One who gave his all for you."

NOTE: These book descriptions are all found on Amazon.com. And, interestingly, you can find them together when you check out the "customers who bought this item also bought" section for each one. That should tell you something.

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Ignoring the fact that all book descriptions are written to get your attention, it should be obvious, based on what these books say of themselves, what I am getting at with these books. They all seem to express or support the notion that true Christianity is found by living a radical, crazy and devoted life in following Jesus. Once again, I don't have a problem with this notion as it stated (though I most certainly need to hear more). It is very true that the life Jesus calls us to is a radical one with many extreme consequences that will surely cause us to break off from the status quo. This implication for the Christian life is demonstrated throughout the New Testament. That much is undisputed.

What I question is how this notion is being discussed by these authors. In other words, I can find a lot to agree with in what they claim but I depart from them when they work out their claims. This is why, I think, they can easily deceive us into thinking that what they say must be true because their central claim cannot be disputed.

In fact, my biggest problem with these books is that they take a great and very true claim, one that is found throughout the New Testament, and they insufficiently work out the implications of it. In explaining what I mean, I will list out some of the particular aspects of these books that I feel do not add anything of merit to the central claim that Jesus calls us to a radical life.

1. There is a serious lack of reflection on how to best express what the "radical" life is like in Christ. Each book, in its own way, says the Christian life is meant to be radical but there is no reflection, at least in any substantial way, on what the word "radical" means and how this word can be misinterpreted. Without a doubt, each book does a good job of contrasting what a lukewarm Christianity looks like in contrast with the life God calls us to in Christ. But they each fail in giving sufficient attention to what the parameters of this life entail.

For example, in Radical the story of the Rich Young Man (Mark 10) is utilized to support the notion that our lives in Christ are meant to look very differently from the way of life we live in America. The problem is not so much in whether that is true or not, the problem is that this, left by itself, does not address all the issues that surround this claim. One issue in particular is that I think Platt has not done enough exegesis of this passage to provide a contrast with our modern context. I am not saying that this passage cannot be contrasted with American society, I am saying that I don't see any evidence that Platt has sufficiently considered the text in its own right in order to make the claim to Americans living in the 21st century.

2. It seems that each book follows the dangerous tendency to "proof text," that is, to pull passages out of context in order to support the claim they are making. Now, this has been a tendency of many an Evangelical for a long time, so it isn't like they are the first or only culprits of doing this. This is why I tell my youth that they are to never quote a verse to me unless they can demonstrate the following: A. they summarize the context surrounding the verse, B. they explain what this verse can and cannot apply to in biblical times and modern times, and C. they provide reasons as to why they quote it without also quoting the rest of the text. That may seem like too much but if we all lived by this principle we would avoid so much confusion concerning the Bible. I rarely, if ever, see this principle at work in these sort of books.

3. Each author seems to dismiss or not carefully consider why it is that many people have trouble living the life that Christ wants them to. For example, in Not A Fan, Idleman tells the story of a person who stopped attending church because he did not like Idleman's sermons. Idleman goes on to say how he called this person up, inquiring as to why he didn't like his sermons, and found out that this person did not like how the sermons were interfering with his life. I don't know what Idleman said in response to this guy over the phone (he leaves that part out) but he tells this story to demonstrate that this particular person was a fan not a follower of Christ. Really? You can determine that this person is not a true follower because they didn't like what your sermons were trying to do? Could it possibly be the case that your sermons are asking things of people that might not be what is expressed by Christ? As if that wasn't enough, Idleman also says that his job description, as a preacher, was to interfere with this guys' life. Really? Is that solely what preaching is about? For that matter, are we to determine the success of a sermon by how much it interferes with a person's life? If that is the case, then 99.99% of sermons do not accomplish what they are supposed to do.

4. The goal, it seems, in these books is to measure the Christian life by how much you give up and how much the Christian life costs you. Each of these authors have problems with messages that tell you how great the Christian life is and how it will make you happy. As they should. But these authors imply that the true Christian life is determined by how much it costs you. In other words, you are not truly following Christ unless your life has encountered great difficulty.

I won't dispute that Christians experience difficulty. They most certainly do. But this is not a measuring stick of how dedicated you are in following Christ. Indeed, the only measuring stick for the Christian life is Christ alone. Further, our sufferings as Christians are not meant to determine how Christian we are but are there to help us suffer with others (Gal. 6:2, 1 Jn. 3:16).

5. In conjunction with #4, I find that these books make use of the "martyr's impulse" (my term) to substantiate their claims. What I mean with "martyr's impulse" is that they try to use persecution, suffering or difficulty as a means of defining the Christian life. Many Christians, and non-Christians for that matter, have felt the allure of the "martyr's complex," much like the "hero's complex," in that they desired persecution and death because it made them feel closer to God or their cause. The "martyr's impulse" is not that extreme but it is similar in that it uses the harsh realities of the faith to persuade others to their cause.

Interestingly, even though these author's do not like messages that try to "sell" Christianity by talking about the benefits or happiness that comes from it, they are still in the business of "selling" Christianity--they just do so by showcasing how difficult the Christian life is.

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Based on this, I think you can go into any bookstore, or consult any online eBook resource, and find that many authors utilize this same claim about how radical the Christian life is. Some books are more convincing than others, but for the most part it is easy to see that this claim is quite trendy these days.

S0--is there a Christian author or Christian book out there that has been released in recent years that avoids the pitfalls of these books yet still makes the claim that Christ calls us to live radically. Yes, there indeed is. One I can think of, who can actually be found in the Christian section of bookstores, is N.T. Wright. His book Simply Christian is simply amazing. Check him out sometime. You won't be disappointed.

Believing in God for Morality's Sake

2011-08-08T20:00:00.004-04:00

It is commonly said, most evidently in the form of an argument, that God is necessary for morality. The essence of such a statement is that without God there would be no morality (I have never heard an argument arguing the reverse).

Skeptics, atheists and even some theists have issues with this statement. Reasons for rejecting this statement vary from person to person. Some are persuasive; others just silly. Some range from the profundity of Nietzsche's "Beyond Good and Evil" to the banality of Sam Harris' "The Moral Landscape." Either way, people have found reason to reject the notion that somehow God (or belief in Him) is essential for morality to exist.

Please understand that when one argues that God is essential for the existence of morality they are not asserting that morality exists as a "thing" or an "object" out in the world of experience. More than likely, what they are asserting is that because God is we can safely assume that morality is truly good and truly absolute. Without God, as some would argue, morality would just fall apart and there would be no reason to live the "good moral life" if there was no God.

In my studies, as a Christian minister and armchair philosopher, I have routinely asked myself if this argument is not only convincing but essential for a Christian to assert. My doubts concerning the statement have never revolved around whether I doubted God's existence but rather on the fact that I had a difficult time believing that the argument itself was persuasive as stated and that it is necessary for a Christian to believe it.

I know that for some--who are convinced that it is their life's duty to convince others that they should believe in God--this comes across as a shocking statement from a minister whose chief task is to proclaim the gospel of Christ to all nations. Should it not be the duty of every minister to make use of whatever can help in the task of proclaiming the gospel?

Well, no. I don't believe in that for one moment, particularly since some tools only confound and confuse the purpose of the task in the first place. That is to say, unless I am not being clear enough: somethings distract us more from the gospel than attract us to it.

The argument that God is necessary for morality, in my estimation, is a distraction from the true gospel. (This is just one of many reasons why I detest Christian apologetics). As a Christian, I want to proclaim salvation through faith in Christ, but I do not want to do it with shoddy methods, like the argument that God is necessary for morality, since it only cheapens the use of reason instead of utilizing it.

I know. This goes against the grain of a lot of Christian thinkers--some well-meaning, others not--who find this argument convincing. It even, from a certain standpoint, goes against Kant's moral argument for God, though I am pretty sure he would revile the way his argument is being hijacked by many Christian apologists today.

So, to ask an obvious question (one I am sure the reader would want to ask me at this point): Do you believe that God is necessary for morality to be truly good and absolute?

That is a hard question to answer (typical philosophical response).

Of course, I do want to to point out that the nature of the statement ("God is necessary for morality") seems to imply that God is dependent upon something outside of Himself, which would seem to undermine God's divine nature of being the most supreme being.

The question also brings up the age old dilemma, most famously proffered in Plato's Euthyphro, of whether God commands the good because it is good or the good is good because God commands it (my phrasing). Either option does not leave us with a pretty picture; either we are forced to believe that the good exists outside of who God is (the first part) or we believe that God can command anything to be good if He wanted to (like rape, murder, or slavery).

At any rate, while I reject the notion that morality is impossible without God, or even worse without belief in God, I do think that morality would not offer a way to the truly good life if it was not rooted in God.

What this means is that I reject any notion that morality is impossible without God if it attempts to use God as a sort of "guarantee" that one can trust without reservation or hesitation.

I think that to do so demeans who God is and makes faith in Him quite unnecessary.

So instead of seeing God as an essential part to "guaranteeing" morality and its demands, I see God as essential to morality in the sense that God allows us to participate in His creative and redemptive life. Some will hear this and think this is just another formulation of gospel vs. law, faith vs. works. While that is a part of what I am attempting to say, it does not fully represent my intentions in saying that God is necessary for morality.

Three points should suffice in clarifying what I mean:

First, God is necessary for morality because it is only in the context of revelation that morality receives its substance. In plainer terms, to state that God is necessary for morality without also considering the question of who God is makes the argument self-defeating. It is important, therefore, to know who God is in order to truly understand the nature of morality. You cannot believe, for that matter, in just any God to get to morality; it must be the one, true God.

Second, in conjunction with the first point, a true morality begins and ends in "knowing." Some will think that what I mean here is "thinking without feelings/emotions" or "mind over the body" but what I truly mean with "knowing" comprises all of the human--not just the mind. With Hegel, I do believe that morality requires thought but not at the expense of who we are as humans, especially as emotional creatures. "Thought," for Hegel, comprehends emotion and feeling but it must rise to the level of the infinite or the absolute via thought in order to truly "know" what is moral.

Third, in conjunction with the second point, "knowing" what is moral can only be obtained from within not from without. Before I confuse you, let me say that when I speak of "knowledge within" I do not mean one's personal thoughts. This would seem to make morality a matter of mere personal opinion. Such a position is disastrous. "Knowing" what is moral must be an action of a human that is based upon God working in us. If "knowledge" came from the outside, without any action on our part, we would never truly be sure if what we knew was true or not. The "knowledge" must be a working part of us in order for us to really know when we have reached the truth. This means, in effect, that until we come to that knowledge, we live in ignorance, not knowing the path to the good, moral life. We do not get out of our ignorance on our own, this is done as a work of God, revealing Himself to us.

This leaves us with the question again of whether or not I personally believe that God is necessary for morality. My answer, as confusing as it might appear, is saying that while I can imagine morality and living a moral life without God (to a certain degree, that is, if morality were just a set of principles and rules based upon human experience) I do not think it would be possible to attain the truly good life without Him. This is just a way of saying, in case you are still confused, that God is necessary for morality because He offers us the truly good life not because He merely guarantees moral principles and laws.

Still confused? I hope not. As a Christian, I am much more concerned in living the good life and what that means than trying to argue for morality for morality's sake. Again, only God can offer us the truly good life because in Him we not only come to an understanding of what is moral but how to live morally. Theory and practice are united, knowledge and action bridged, so that the Christian lives the fully complete, fully human life.

So, yes, God is necessary for morality but only in the way I have stated and not in its usual formulations.

Staying Happy in a Bad News World

2011-08-02T13:01:00.004-04:00

You watch the news daily. You talk amongst your friends about world occurrences. Your family dinners and reunions seem to be traps designed to prick your worst emotions about sensitive topics.

And what does all this get you? An unhappy, stressful, angry, hate-filled, pessimistic life.

You end up feeling like the world is going to hell in a handbasket and you are just another helpless and hapless victim.

It is all too much to shoulder--especially when you have enough personal problems piling up (taxes, raising a family, saving money, financial debt, and so on, ad nauseam).

This is why some people avoid any situation which causes them extra anxiety. They turn off their TVs; they avoid opening their mouths at family reunions; they turn away from conversations with friends that lead to touchy subjects.

By doing these things people stay joyfully aloof, embodying the principle that "ignorance is bliss."

You can't blame them for doing this either. You are tempted to do it yourself. It has the appeal of idyllic life, shut off from the rest of the world and its problems. (Could this be, tangentially, one of the reasons why libertarianism is so attractive?--"you stay where you are and I will stay where I am and we will all be happy, right?").

The only problem is that being aloof only produces an artificial form of happiness. Being ignorant, especially willfully ignorant, is never adequate to the life of happiness. It may seem that way; you may even be convinced that it is that way. But it isn't.

What makes being aloof attractive is in itself not the problem. We all need to get some distance from the world's problems. After all, even though it may appear that way, it is not our responsibility to shoulder every single problem the world goes through. The problem with being aloof is that it makes you look the fool but more importantly it makes it nearly impossible to live a life of happiness, true happiness.

The happiness I speak of here is what the Greeks called "eudaimonia". Commonly translated as simply "happiness", it would be more appropriate to translate it as "human flourishing" since the aim is not simply momentary happiness or happiness for the sake of happiness but rather happiness which leads to intellectual, moral and emotional growth.

Those who remain aloof, by taking the path of least resistance, even though it is attractive to do so considering all that happens in the world, can never obtain eudaimonia simply because they refuse contact with the rest of the world.

Obviously what we are aiming for in seeking eudaimonia is not the opposite of being aloof--that is, being obsessively connected with the world. What we aim for is being aloof yet connected. That may sound like an impossible position to posit let alone live into but the desired goal is to live such a life that knows when to disconnect and when to connect. Such a position is therefore more about a process of activity rather than an achieved state. In fact a state in which 'being aloof yet connected' might not even exist as a possibility but if lived in the process of actively aiming for it we obtain the next closest thing: a state of equanimity.

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For myself, I have aimed for eudaimonia and have had to struggle with how to best remain aloof yet connected. I will not pretend that I have the secret formula for achieving success but I have made some observations about how to be happy in a bad news world which I believe can be helpful to others.

These observations have developed as a result of my growing frustration with the news media (in all its forms) and conversations I have had with family and friends. For a time I thought that getting a better handle on the facts, on the ins and outs of politics, religion, and government, that I would be able to be happy. I also believed that if I changed my sources from which I received my information that it would make this process easier. Long story short: it didn't.

So here are the observations I have made (feel free to discuss and add to them):

1. Moving from the need to acquire facts to the ability to understand the world.

2. Moving from the need to have an opinion for everything to the ability to form one when appropriate.

3. Moving from the need to fix things to the ability to know when to fix, if things need to be fixed and whether you are the person to fix it.

4. Moving from the need to criticize things to the ability to constructively build a better world.

As you can tell, from my list, the path to eudaimonia and equanimity focuses more on producing abilities for certain things than filling needs. This does not mean that filling needs is necessarily bad. (We still need to give to charities). Please do not hijack this list and use it to say that everyone needs to pick themselves up by their own bootstraps. This is not what this list is meant to do. The purpose of it is to provide people with the ability to be aloof yet connected so that they can stay happy in a bad news world.

Hopefully my observations will help you in your journey to happiness.

On "Love" and Why It No Longer Means Anything...

2011-07-22T18:25:00.006-04:00

Love, whether in abstract or in reality, is greatly valued by people. I cannot speak of all cultures, nor can I speak of all times, but it seems that love as a principle is admired by everyone.

It is so greatly valued by people that it is not uncommon to hear "all you need is love" or "love will find a way" or "love is my religion" from people of all walks of life. Whether we are merely quoting a song or reflecting on what we have learned in life, through all our mistakes and broken relationships, we believe in love.

One way or another, regardless of our cultural heritage or religious persuasion, love is the center of all the virtues; it is the one thing to be valued in itself above all other things; it is the one thing, the only thing.

We would die for love.... (Insert some quote from Tennyson that is overly used)

Well, maybe.

I don't think we would go that far because I don't think we really have a firm grasp of what love is. This is not because only the love which is most explicable or explainable is the truest form of love. Love does not need to be explained. Nor does it need to be understood, in most cases.

Love, however, does need meaning. Otherwise...well...it is meaningless. And meaningless love...well...it just isn't love.

Love without meaning bears no fruit. It builds no bridges. It causes no feelings of rapturous ecstasy. Love without meaning ceases to exist as love. It becomes nothing but an idea or a word or some feeling-disguised-as-something-it-is-not.

But what is love with meaning? Can that meaning be meaningful to all people? Or will any definition, by the very nature of being a definition, expose the biases and ignorance of those doing the defining?

All good questions. All need to be asked. All need reflection. But if our response is to be productive, to any degree, it must depart from the need to be universal or overly respectful to every difference.

We do not want to sound conceited in defining love but we also do not need the extra baggage of defining it to the point that it lacks any force, any substance. Love is universal. But to feel it, to understand it, one need not provide a definition that comprehends all situations and all peoples.

What love needs is substance. This is especially important in a society without substance.

We may say we believe in love, that we even feel it, that it is all we need to have true peace, etc., etc. Similar to those who champion "diversity" for the sake of diversity, or "bio-centrism" for the sake of being fair to the environment, "love" for the sake of love barely means anything in our culture.

The last thing we need is a bumper sticker telling us "love is the answer" or something of that sort. What we really need is to stop using "love" so frivolously and so expeditiously. What we need is to stop--stop it all because it all gets so maddening (especially if one finds themselves asking "why love?" or "what is love?").

Love can be the answer only if we are sure our love has meaning. To use an obvious analogy: to love someone only in words but not in actions defies not only love, and whatever it truly is, but our humanity as well.

To love is to be human. And to be human is to love. Love makes us human. And our humanity expresses itself most fully in love.

But all of that is meaningless if love lacks substance and lacks appropriate reflection.

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Our definition, or more appropriately, our reflection, on what love is must begin with contours not specifics. I choose this path because contours allow us to fill in the specifics. If we began with the specifics and then worked out the contours we would lose sight of what we are doing and what our goal is. To avoid something akin to a child coloring outside the lines of a picture, love must begin with the contours, the lines, so it understands its boundaries. Like mapping out a hike across country, one must pay attention to the contours of the land to take the path of least resistance.

Contours for love are decided by three things: confession, freedom and revelation. Without these three contours love loses its bearing and its reality. Without these three, love loses all meaning--it loses itself.

Confession--Love is never merely opinion. Opinions are inadequate because, even if one shares an opinion with another person, opinions do not bind you to another person. Confession, as in confessing one's beliefs and one's values, supersedes opinion because by its very nature it binds one to another, forges words with deeds, and unites faith with works. Confession creates responsibility; opinions merely create the impression of responsibility without doing the heavy lifting it requires.

By its nature, confession demands decision. And decision, true to its nature, cuts one off of certain possibilities in what possibilities it chooses. Opinions attempt to have their cake and eat it too. Opinions don't demand a decision. They are only comfortable with expressing themselves without choosing to take a firm stand against other options.

Confession relishes counter-pressure; mere opinion falters when pressed.

We appeal to opinion, especially in our concepts of "love," because we think it offers us the most tolerable and tolerant position. In truth opinion can never create true tolerance. Opinion can only create indifference. True tolerance, for that matter, can stand its ground as one confesses their views of love or their beliefs. What makes for tolerance is not accepting all positions as true, or even as possibly true, it comes from humility and regard for others despite our differences. (This is why it is possible for a Christian to believe that homosexuality is a sin yet be tolerant of homosexuals. In fact if we want to have truly productive conversations regarding this particular issue, we need to come to the table with a better understanding of "tolerance" on both sides so that we can get to the real issues that need to be discussed).

Confession is an important contour for love because without it love would lose its substance. Confession demands allegiance to the point of humiliation, to the point of contradiction, to the point of confusion, and even to the point of death.

In sum: No confession, no love.

Freedom--To love is to do so freely, whether this is to a supreme being, like God, or to another person. Without freedom, love cannot thrive; it is literally choked out of existence. Freedom, in a true sense, does not demand the ability to choose anything. Freedom needs to choose but it is not defined by endless possibilities but rather by decision. Typically, freedom and having a free will are thought of without reference to "demand" or "necessity" because such things seem to counter freedom. What is truly the case is that freedom exists in relationship with "demand" and "necessity" despite their perceived differences.

Love to be truly free must exist in relationship with "demand" and understand that by being free it comes under "judgement". Love is never free to do as it pleases. It can only do what is demanded of itself. And if love does not fall under the auspices and scrutiny of "judgement" then it is never truly love to begin with.

Love does not run away from what it "must" do or from being "judged." To be love in the first place it must have the courage to do its duty and take responsibility for itself.

This is why I believe that in order for love to be truly free it needs God. By ourselves the task of love demands tremendous responsibility--a responsibility that we would not have the strength to bear without God.

I say this not to prove that Christianity or belief in God is the only way to love freely and responsibly but because I find no other possibility sufficient enough to bear the weight of such a task. It may not be convincing to all people--and I don't think it needs to be because I do not believe that one needs to believe in God to love people. In other words, because God is, people can love, whether they believe in Him or not. I would argue, however, that faith in God brings an understanding to the possibility of love that unbelief could never accomplish or obtain in itself.

Freedom is an important contour for love because without it love loses its responsibility.

In sum: no freedom, no love.

Revelation--Love always needs a context and a face. This does not mean that love can be explained or completely understood. It means that loved can only be itself when something is revealed.

Revelation does not mean living in a glass house or exposing all your dirty laundry; love as revelation is about living in relationship openly but not without any regard to confidentiality. Revelation simply means exposing one's true self to another.

Revelation is an important contour for love because without it love would merely be abstract or artificial.

It is impossible to love without showing oneself in the process. This is what makes love so risky--and at times so impossible. We usually run from vulnerability because it demands too much of ourselves but vulnerability is a regular, if not essential, experience in loving another person.

For Christians, revelation is a central feature of the Christian faith not merely because we need it to believe in the "one, true God" but because it reveals to us that by making Himself vulnerable to us, Christ demonstrates His love. Bonhoeffer once remarked that only a God who suffers can help us. In a similar way, only a God who makes Himself vulnerable by revelation is worthy of our faith.

Christ's example of revelation is the example par excellence of what love means.

Revelation, once again, is an important contour for love because without it love loses its face. Love as revelation demands that we throw off our masks and "be ourselves." To do so requires great risk but it is a risk that must be taken, otherwise it would not truly be love.

In sum: no revelation, no love.

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To follow these contours allows us to fill in the specifics of love as we please (whom we love, how we do it, when we do it, and so on).

Will everyone accept this reflection, or definition, of love? Probably not. I don't expect everyone to be satisfied.

But I would be hard pressed to find any other definition satisfactory without these three contours. I will accept additions to these three--if I am given a persuasive reason to do so--because I do not think I have been as comprehensive as I possibly could.

I will leave that for you. Do you have anything to add or amend?

Harry Potter, Jesus, and Me | Movies & TV | Christianity Today

2011-07-16T00:08:00.000-04:00

Great article over at Christianity Today by Andrew Peterson. His experience with Potter is fairly similar to mine.

Read it here: Harry Potter, Jesus, and Me | Movies & TV | Christianity Today

My take on the Potter Phenomenon:

Great but not perfect books. Good but not great movies. That is how I would personally summarize my experience with Harry Potter. Overall, Potter has been a great cultural experience, except for the completely crazy Potter fans who take things a little too seriously for my taste.

I do wonder, along with Peterson, how these books will hold up over time. My impression is that they will achieve a similar status to "The Chronicles of Narnia" which are cherished more by the beloved because of how they affected them personally (emotionally, morally, spiritually) than how worthy they were as literature.

My Top Ten Metal Albums

2011-07-13T14:38:00.016-04:00

I have done some posts on what albums and books have had the greatest role in shaping who I am (see music here and books here). This time around I am going to loosen the reigns a little bit and write a post just for the fun of it.

So...here they are--my top ten metal albums:

1. Iron Maiden " The Number of he Beast"

How can this album not be number one on any list of top metal bands? It is the definitive metal album. Period. They never had a hit, but Iron Maiden remain one of the top metal bands of all time.
Every thing about this album works together perfectly. Dickinson's vocals. Harris' bass prowess. Everything about it screams metal. Heck...this album is metal!

2. Dio "Holy Diver"

Dio (RIP) was one of the greatest metal singers of all time. This album gets in your head and you are singing it to yourself for days on end.

History lesson: Dio perfomed with Elf, Rainbow and Black Sabbath before venturing out on his own with this album. Quite a career.

3. Black Sabbath "Master of Reality"

These guys are known for Ozzy of course. But there is more to them than Ozzy's shenanigans--especially early on before Ozzy left the band.

This album was their third album--and it may not be on everyone's list but it is on mine because this album is consistent from "Sweet Leaf" to "Into the Void". The vibe of the album on a whole is just dark, gloomy and sludgy...I love it!

4. Metallica "Master of Puppets"

Okay, so Metallica has not put out a good album since "..And Justice For All." (Yes, that is right, the "Black" album may be popular but it is not nearly as good as the albums that came before it).

Every metalhead usually puts this at number one. And it should probably be there if I were trying to be objective about the influence of this album. But this is my top ten not the top ten.

5. As I Lay Dying "The Powerless Rise"

This album does not fit in with those which preceded it. And I will be the first to admit that metalcore is pretty redundant and formulaic. But As I Lay Dying, in my mind, does it better than anyone else. Also, no album gets me pumped up as much as this one does.

6. Megadeth "Rust in Peace"

I always thought Megadeth was a rip-off of Metallica. Boy, was I wrong. Dave Mustaine used to be in Metallica for a time but that is all they have in common as far as I am concerned.

Megadeth has had a much better career than Metallica and this album proves it. I choose this one because the shredding on this album is phenomenal. Simply phenomenal.

7. Mastodon "Blood Mountain"

Mastodon probably put out better albums than this one. But "Blood Mountain" is the album that got me into them. And for that reason, it will always be my favorite.

Mastodon, in case you have never heard them before, are the most interesting and dynamic metal band around these days. (I could probably throw Machine Head in there as well but Mastodon just kills it).

8. Slayer "Reign in Blood"

This is their fastest and most brutal album. Period. I will admit that their lyrics seem somewhat callow in their effort to sound dark, and I sometimes laugh at just how ridiculous they are. But this album kills it musically.

Slayer is hard to get into at first but with persistence they pay off. Big time.

9. Between the Buried and Me "The Great Misdirect"

It is hard to classify this band as "metal"--or anything for that matter. They play it all. And they do it amazingly well. Even my father, who hates "screaming" with a passion, could appreciate the technicality and skill of this band.

While I love songs on other albums more than this one--this is my favorite beginning to end. If you are a fan of music in general, check it out! You will not be disappointed.

10. Zao "Liberte te ex Inferis"

Zao is definitely lesser known than many of other bands on this list. I include it here because it was an album that had a huge impact on me getting into heavier sounding music than the typical Nu-Metal outfits of the late 90's and early 2000's (viz. Korn, P.O.D., Limp Bizkit, etc.).

This album is, for me, the pinnacle of Zao's career. I love many of the albums that came after this. But nothing compares with it.

Feckless and Fetid Theologians and the Tepid Theology of the Church

2011-07-09T00:07:00.011-04:00

For some time I have struggled with putting a finger on what has worried me with the state of theology today. In the past I made arguments that theology, especially within the academy, is too irrelevant to modern people. Some put me to task for making this argument by focusing on the issue of relevance:

--Should we really be concerned about being relevant?

--Is God not relevant to all people because it is in God's nature to be so?

--Why be relevant if it sacrifices truth and integrity?

I appreciated the criticism because, among many other things, it forced me to be more clear on what I meant with "relevance." I feel however that, despite my conversations with these people, the criticism made against my arguments rarely engaged the deeper issues I was trying to uncover. Part of me thinks that this might have to do with the fact that my arguments were not carefully constructed. Another part thinks that it is just not a convincing argument to begin with. Which one is true, I cannot say for sure.

I know that my feelings concerning the current state of theology are true and that there is a problem which needs to be addressed (some will never be convinced that this is true). I just have had trouble describing my feelings accurately. This blog has been a blank canvas for me in trying to picture what those "feelings" denote. This is why I believe that instead of framing my argument in terms of relevance and irrelevance (even though I believe that my definitions of these terms are still cogent) that I will describe the state of theology by discussing how compelling it is.

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Tepid. Feckless. Fetid.

Using words like these to describe theology will upset some--especially those who ascribe to theologies or theological positions that I deem as such. I am not trying to start a war or a major debate on the nature of theology. I simply want to be truthful and honest about what I feel is a growing concern in a field which I have dedicated my life.

I should clarify that this post might seem like I believe that good theology is the key to heaven. I do not believe for one moment that good theology will effect anything great in terms of the church's witness or the faith of its believers. God is the key to such things. Without Christ there there would be no church, no faith.

Theology, as I see it, is an expression of the church; it is not the substance of it. Only Christ, in the active presence of the Holy Spirit, can lay claim to being the substance of the church. Theology is therefore something relatively insignificant when compared to the faith of believers who stake their lives on Christ. But, even if it is relatively insignificant in comparison to faith in Christ, it is still important, and without a healthy consideration of what theology should be I believe we impair our witness and ability to grow with a living faith in God.

As a youth pastor I have experienced first hand how repugnant theology has become in the church. I realize that such a claim comes off as a bit conceited and out of touch--I have, after all, been involved in full time ministry only one year upon graduating from Princeton Theological Seminary. One should expect a difference between the theology and theological astuteness of a church and a theological institution. The thing is: this is not really what I am trying to point out.

Perhaps it would be helpful to point out what I do not mean when I say I find the theology of the church "repugnant."

1. I do not mean that the church has a complete disregard for theology, doctrines or critical thinking. (There many people that are very much interested in these things).

2. I do not mean to say that from my experiences as a youth pastor with youth, or as a member of a church with fellow believers, that my church simply cannot handle good, sound theology. (Many of them do, in fact. So much so that I can say that many of them put to shame many people that I have met who supposedly have "theological training").

3. I do not mean that, because of my own theological convictions concerning doctrines and practices, I find those who differ from me to be the problem. (Particulars in theological positions really are not the problem. Indeed, those who believe that the true problem with theology is a result of particular doctrines or practices annoy me. More on this later).

4. I do not mean, as I pointed out earlier, that theology is the biggest issue facing the church. (This is hardly the case, though the problems of theology are more significant than some might think).

The problem as I see it is that theology within the church (mainly evangelical/non-denominational/mega-churches) and within the academy (mostly seminaries and divinity schools in the West) are so completely out of touch with each other that they rarely speak to one another. The academy is overly-specialized; while the church is overly-infantile. The academy, given its nature, is obsessed with substance and content; while the church, given its nature within the most influential churches, is confined to form and appearance.

--I should note that when I speak of "influential" churches I am speaking about those churches which seem to be the most appealing to American people in general. There are far too many churches in America to speak of in general terms, but as I have found those churches that are most compelling to the modern American are the mega-churches and the ones in which most of their members read the theology which is shelved at Christian bookstores.

I should also point out, while I am at it, that my evaluation of the academy is mostly based on American theological schools in general. It seems to me that the most compelling theology has been done on the mission field by missionaries on other continents. Of course, the most compelling theology in general has rarely ever come from America--that prize is held in church history by Europe, in particular Germany. Leslie Newbegin, David Bosch, NT Wright and many like them (some even in America) are offering some of the most compelling theologies to date. And if you read from these theologians you will notice that their genius rarely resides in uncovering new theological positions but rather in their theological prowess to address both the human situation and current issues.--

For me the essential difference between the theology-of-the-church and the theology-of-the-academy is that with the church there is a focus on the form of theology while with the academy there is a focus on the content.

In the case of the church, the focus on the form of theology has produced the following problems:

--An inability to recognize anything as true except in the usual presentation. Example: churches that can only accept beliefs about the Bible which use words like "inerrancy" or beliefs about the gospel that use common phrases like "personal Lord and Savior."

--A lack of theological substance and awareness. This basically means that churches, left to their own devices, are so bereft of theological substance that they have resorted to using cheap and intellectually shallow means of expressing theological positions or doctrines. For example, if I hear one more comparison of the Trinity with an egg or water, I will go crazy. Seriously, if pastors and theologians had done their job, we would have many believers who could express the doctrine of the Trinity without sounding so trivial that it numbs the brain. And it would save me experiencing heart palpitations every time I think someone is going in that direction.

In the case of the academy, the focus on the content of theology has produced the following problems:

--No regard for how to talk theologically with someone who has never heard of a Barth, a Calvin, a Wesley, a Tillich, a Moltmann, or a Augustine.

--A field that has become so over-specialized that it has reached the point of nausea and has come dangerously close to losing its chief purpose: to embolden and encourage the witness of the church. Those who read the results of this process clearly understand how nauseating this is. Those who produce this theology probably at one point experienced the same thing--they just learned how to tolerate it over time.

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Now for the tepid, the feckless and the fetid. These terms will be applied to what I see mostly in the church though it is also evident within the academy. These terms are not meant to be dismissive but rather descriptive, with the goal of inviting a response in the reader.

The tepid--with the rise in the publication of anybody who thinks they can write and the decrease in those authors coming from truly "expert ranks", it is no surprise that what goes for feeding the church these days is an example of "the bland feeding the bland" to the point that the bland appears to be the most exquisite and delectable thing available for the willing palate. It never ceases to amaze me when someone recommends a book to me that they think is inspiring and revelatory that when I take up their recommendation that I find myself amazed that a supposedly trendsetting and groundbreaking author can not only be published but become a bestseller as well.

I could give examples but I will refrain from doing so simply so I don't rock the boat too much. If you truly want to know what authors I have in mind, ask around at a church, particularly one that fits the "evangelical/non-denominational/mega-church/consumer-driven" mold of many modern churches, what people are reading these days.

The feckless-- this theology typically feeds those who find the tepid appealing. It is weak precisely in the fact that it has lost its sense of discovery and adventure when undertaking the theological enterprise. Since it is responsible for tepid theology, it is far more dangerous and culpable.

Most examples of this type are easily read by anyone and they have the appearance of scholarship (they sometimes even claim it for themselves despite the fact that it is inappropriate given what the true nature of scholarship is) but it would rather repeat and regurgitate ideas, notions and practices that are not original to it. It does not matter if these repetitions and regurgitations are based on something sound and orthodox or not. The fact of the matter is that it does not deeply engage with the issues that produced the theology that it merely imitates. This is why it lacks the spirit of adventure and the pure genius of the theological greats.

The fetid-- this theology is the most deceitful and ignominious of the three. For this reason, it is the most dangerous theology making its rounds these days. It appears to be done in the spirit of love--it will invoke this notion from time to time--and the spirit of adventure, all to give the appearance that it is accomplishing something. The trouble is: it is usually successful in doing just that.

The reason it is called "fetid" and not something else is that to the discerning mind it is the consequences of this form of theology that are the most pungent. Like the carcass of a dead animal, the odor of this theology overwhelms all that is good around it. When it is spoken by those who utilize this theology it is like talking to someone with a severe case of halitosis--it does not matter what they say, or how passionately they do so, the odor surrounding their words chokes out any life their words purport to offer.

This will probably be the most easily misinterpreted of all three terms--indeed, those who use fetid theology will probably commandeer this analysis against all other forms of theology that are unlike it--but what I mean with it is a theology which: arrogantly assumes that it is, and has, the truth; most readily and eagerly attacks other theological positions which it disagrees with; survives in only one theological niche (pretty much anything with an -ism at the end of it) and uses that niche against others to claim its superiority; like children playing a recess, it is quick to choose those who it wants on its team and disregard those it feels are useless or inferior to achieving its goals.

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All of this to say, what we have with the modern state of theology is a theology-of-the-church which maintains a tepid theology largely fed and sustained by feckless and fetid theologians. This is why I believe the academy needs to overcome the barriers between the church and itself. Since the academy is so much more experienced with theological substance, if it claimed or reclaimed its focus on the form of its theology--what I in other posts called "becoming more relevant"--then the church would no longer have a tepid theology sustained by feckless and fetid theologians. But, alas, until the academy recovers its duty to embolden and encourage the witness of the church as its principal task (something, I must say, without purposely plugging for my alma matter, that Princeton formed in me and to which I will be forever grateful) our churches will suffer without knowing it.

'Go the F*** to Sleep' and (some) Christian Responses

2011-06-30T11:14:00.004-04:00

I have not read the book because (a) I have more interesting things to do and (b) I am not a parent (yet) who has to deal with sleepless children, but I found the controversy surrounding 'Go the F*** to Sleep' by Adam Mansbach to be quite humorous and revealing.

I will not offer any thoughts upon what I think of the book (I haven't read it after all) but I did find these reviews illuminating, for one reason or another:

1. Karen Spears Zacharias' review has endured a lot of criticism, mostly because she links the language of the book with familial violence (that is to say, families in which the parents of children use vulgar language typically are identified as abusive families). The connection between both vulgar language and violence does seem a bit far fetched; and I agree with some of her critics that her review comes off a bit non-sequitur (in other words, that her conclusions about the book do not follow the premises of the book). I do not understand why those same critics feel the need to belittle her for it or dismiss her because she must not be a funny person if she doesn't get the humor of the book. Her review is what it is: a review for a big-time news giant meant to garner attention and controversy.

2. Timothy Dalrymple writes that:

"More neutrally, I wonder if a part of the different responses to the book comes from the different ways in which we experience cursing. If you’re in an environment where those words, when they’re spoken, carry a threat of violence (a testosterone-fueled environment, say), then you’re more likely to perceive that this book has a menacing aspect. If you’re in an environment where those words are 99% of the time used in harmless jest (say, between computer nerds in a cubicle village), then the threat will probably seem remote to you. But remember, those words do carry an implied threat in many places, and it’s not only computer nerds or the enlightened literati who are going to read this book."

3. This review by Maureen O'Connor clearly appreciates the satire of the book. It is why she has trouble accepting the "what if these words were said to Jews (or any other ethnic minority)" logic that Zacharias' review seems to support. (Note: O'Connor seems to miss that Zacharias was quoting from someone else who made this gambit). While it is true that the quote from Zacharias' review certainly seems a bit outlandish (I fully agree that it does), I do not see how this takes away from the overall point that using vulgar language is inappropriate even for adults who obviously are frustrated with their experiences of putting children to sleep.

4. This is not a review but Samuel Jackson is doing the audio reading of the book.

Politics and Religion: "Gay Marriage in New York" by Daniel Kirk

2011-06-27T20:37:00.006-04:00

"As long as the state is in the marriage business, Christians should support gay marriage as an embodiment of our calling to love our neighbor as ourselves," writes Daniel Kirk, New Testament professor at Fuller Theological Seminary.

The challenge of such a claim is that, before it is even uttered--or, in this case, written--it will not convince the seasoned "orthodox"who have for years fought tooth and nail against gay marriage. On the other hand it may come across as a naive statement from a foolhardy theologian who knows nothing about politics and the institution of "rights." Still, for others, it is easily misinterpreted as an explicit approval of homosexual marriage within the state and church as well as an approval of the homosexual lifestyle.

I am not sure how to regard this statement or his article entitled "Gay Marriage in New York." I have to hear more, and I need for Dr. Kirk to unpack that claim extensively so that I can fully understand where he is going with it.

A part of me agrees with it, especially the part about loving one's neighbor. Yet to agree so quickly seems to disregard the fact that this is a complex issue. Those on the extreme ends of both points in this debate hardly see this as a "complex" issue (as if anything were so easy). I doubt Kirk sees this as anything but a complex issue. I can tell he has spent a "moderate" amount of time with it just by how he presents the issue and how he responds to it.

Where I can agree with Dr. Kirk unequivocally is his conclusion that the church is faced with two separate, but related, questions:

"First, what do we think about homosexuality within the context of our religious community of faith?

But then the second, related but separable question is, What do we think about homosexual marriage within the state in which we find ourselves?

Here’s where, historically, Christians have done poorly: we have failed to realize that our answer to Question 1 does not determine that we attempt to enforce that answer as we take up Question 2."

I think, given the circumstances, this is an appropriate lense in which to view the situation. If this guided our conversations as Christians, within the church and without, we might have a more productive debate than prior ones that have assumed that what happens in the state is a reflection of the church and vice versa.

Christian-nation arguments aside, we need to respond to this issue as Christians and as Americans. But we must not muddy the waters between those two banks of our identities. We are Christians. And we are Americans. Christian Americans or American Christians are a myth, especially if one sees them as an integral part to one another.

As a Christian, I must first discern who I am in Christ. As an American, I must engage with the democratic process and be conversant with other Americans via political discourse. To be clear, my allegience is with Christ first and foremost. My status as an American can only be secondary (or tertiary) to that allegience in Christ.

The great thing is that, as an American, I am guranteed the right to form my identity as a Christian first and foremost, above anything--including my identity as an American.

This is why I have a difficult time with Christians who want to force the government's hand their way (by any means they deem necessary, including the fallacious argument that majority vote should be the deciding factor in all legislation). I understand the implulse to do so, and the great frustration of seeing others choose paths that I might not agree with, but to see it as my duty to force the government's hand seems both spiritually facile and politically ungrateful.

How would you answer Kirk's questions, listed above?

The Formative Five: The Five Albums that Shaped My Life

2011-06-26T14:15:00.015-04:00

Earlier I wrote a post on the top five books that have shaped my life. I called them my formative five. I thought I should also do a post on my five formative music albums because music has had a huge role in shaping who I am.

While I am a musician, my love for music is much more than a simple appreciation for the craft. I am passionate about music in the same way Trekkies are passionate about Star Trek. I guess the appropriate term would be "music geek" but that can be easily confused with "band geeks" and their ilk. My passion is defined by its content: musical artists and groups.

I spend countless hours learning about and listening to musical artists/groups simply because that is who I am. The reason I read books is that I am a "reader". Likewise, with music, I listen and learn because it is in my nature to do so.

Genre-wise, anything is game. I appreciate punk, metal, folk, hardcore, alternative, classical, pop, hip-hop, indie, rock, and bluegrass--as long as it is highly creative and technical. Cheap, productionistic music both bores me and grates on my nerves. This is why I reject most things on the radio or TV. It is not because I can't stand the form of the music but rather because it lacks substance. (NOTE: This is why I can't stand listening to most Christian Contemporary or Worship artists and groups).

Like my post on formative books, this one on music focuses on those albums which have made me who I am. They are not necessarily my favorite albums; there are some that I don't even listen to anymore. But, for one reason or another, these are the albums that have had the biggest impact on me. I will explain why this is as I reveal each choice.

1. "Sixteen Stone" by Bush

The first album that begins my formative five is also the first album that got me into music. Sure...I listened to music before this--but not with the amount of passion that this album produced. Every song on this album plays like a muse to my musical passion. To tell you just how old this album was at the time I got into it, my first copy of it was a cassette tape--remember those?

Reason I chose it: Easy--my love for music would not be possible if it were not for this album. It is that simple.

2. "Proof That the Youth Are Revolting" by Five Iron Frenzy

This is the only "live" album on my list because I have learned that no live album compares to this one by Five Iron Frenzy. It is strange to think that this was the first album I purchased of them but I can think of no better way to be introduced to Five Iron Frenzy. These guys were, to me, the best that ska has ever offered, Christian or not. Their ability to mix serious issues and humor is unparalleled in music, and this is something that I lament to this day since they no longer exist as a band.

Reason I chose it: This album gave me hope that music can be passionate without having to be serious all the time.

3. "A Rush of Blood to the Head" by Coldplay

This is the most recent of all my formative five and it was released in 2002. At first I hated this

band--the song "Yellow" irritated me every time I heard it--but when I got a hold of this album my view of them changed.

Reason I chose it: This album is the bridge that my musical tastes needed in order to get into "lighter" forms of music without sacrificing my standards of creativity and technicality.

4. "Drawing Black Lines" by Project 86

My life would be incomplete, inane and insipid without this album. Basically, as the only "heavy" album in my formative five, this album proved that you could be smart and holy while touching upon dark subjects. No, this album never talks about Satan and devil worship, thank god (that never turns out well). It talks about abuse in the church, spiritual doubt, and all those things most Christian people would want to ignore.

Reason I chose it: Faith can seem uneasy--and that is okay. Like the sound of this amazing band, life can throw you for many twists and turns but it is God who remains persistently steadfast and faithful, despite all evidence to the contrary. This band embodies these principles in this album and in my life.

5. "Starlight Wishlist" by Glisten

This is a band no one probably knows about. I found this CD at a local Christian bookstore when I was looking for something I might like. When I got it home, I popped it into my CD player and I fell immediately in love with it. This album struck the perfect balance between heavy and light. I could worship to it all the while rocking out. Too bad this band never released anything after this.

Reason I chose it: My early years in high school were not the best. I struggled with my identity as a human and as a Christian. This album always brought me to a place of worship. To this day, even though it sounds outdated and somewhat 'cheesy' compared to today's production standards, I can remember all the things that I felt, suffered and struggled with in high school--except now I can look back on these moments in my life with delight and equanimity because I had something, like this album, to pull me through.

Good careers + high salaries = good educations?

2011-06-23T23:01:00.011-04:00

A debate rose, from time to time, in my college philosophy classes regarding "education"--which should not be surprising considering everything is game in philosophy. The debates centered, for the most part, on the question of whether or not current models of education train people in skills or ignite their desire for learning. Based on the fact that most colleges pattern themselves like a business (they have to make money right?), we usually settled on the conclusion that colleges train for skills rather than sparking the fires of self-discovery and reflection.

Anyone who got a true Bachelor of Arts degree knows this to be true. Liberal arts schools are a dying breed, as technical/medical/technological schools rise exponentially and take the largest piece of the collegiate pie.

A recent study detailing how much certain majors make after college proves this trend. If you consider the majors that garner the highest salaries--engineering, health, computer/mathematics--you are forced to the conclusion that the liberal arts and humanities are being left behind because of both a lack of interest and their growing irrelevance in today's world.

I will note that I think this study is deficient in a lot of ways--it doesn't tell us how much people with graduate and doctorates make, for starters--so we cannot look to it as an accurate study of income levels for all people in various careers.

What I find troubling is two things: One, even though making money is a noble pursuit for people concerned with providing for their families, choosing one's career on how much one can make from it cheapens the purpose of education. Two, I fear that what we have in colleges, and even high school, is not education in the proper sense but education in a technical sense. Let me explain.

1. Any of the top-salaried fields of study are so rigorous that they require almost no exposure to other fields--like the humanities, arts, and so on--because these fields need to spend the majority of their time within their own field. The end result: an education that lacks depth and breadth.

2. Specialization, in all fields and even within them, has undermined a well-balanced education. Example: the growing irrelevance of the "family physician" as more people take on more specialized careers (neurology, pediatrics, rheumatology, etc.). Because these more specialized fields earn more money, people are attracted to what they can offer, more so than as a general physician. I do not want to sound as if specialization has completely undermined education, because it has made many great strides, discoveries and progress. Yet I have to ask: does our progress via specialization really make things better, especially in a holistic sense? The only answer I can reasonably agree upon is: no. Where will this lead us fifty years from now? I can't say. The only thing I can say is that we should not buy into specialization too much without considering the costs. (As a corollary, I can say that it frustrates me that when I have a medical problem I have to ride all over town to get it taken care of because one physician is not enough these days.)

3. Education, in the technical sense, focuses on what skills a student can acquire so that they are equipped for their future careers. This is the narrative that shapes how we view education in the modern, technological age; it is a narrative that is so ubiquitous, so universal, that we believe it to be the only true way of viewing education. We believe in it so firmly because our society demands this education. As they say: where the jobs are, the people will follow. We could almost say, as well, that where the jobs are the education is sure to follow. I lament this development not because I am anti-technology or anti-modern but because it is a deformed version of education.

4. What is education? Education, I believe, in the proper sense, is about igniting the desire for learning and forming character not saturating minds like a sponge or giving someone an occupation. I prefer to view education in league with vocation rather than occupation because true education helps us to find our calling by drawing us out of ourselves and forming character. This is why historically a liberal arts education was required of people in colleges. Of course, when colleges were forming in their early stages they lacked the variety of careers that we have today--so a liberal arts education made sense for a variety of reasons. Today, because of technological advances, occupations are on the rise. There is no need to consider a vocation. The goal, after all, is production and capital. Vocations take too long to develop and are perceived as a waste of time--especially when you consider how long schooling lasts for certain fields.

5. I champion a liberal arts education here not because I had one or because I believe it is our only hope--far from it, actually. If you look at many liberal arts programs in colleges across the U.S. even they are deficient. The problem is that we think a good liberal arts education requires dabbling in many fields so that you cover all bases. That is not what I argue for in a liberal arts program. That approach, of mere dabbling, would cause more problems than solving them. A good liberal arts program is much more than the sum of its parts; it must challenge us on every level not for merely intellectual reasons but for emotional, religious and moral ones as well. Liberal arts programs must be holistic and engaging on every level so that the identity forged in the student is truly their own and truly balanced.

6. Again: I deride not technology, nor the fields that support it, but rather the process in which our education takes place. We need the fields of engineering and medicine in order for our society to be stable. I believe that the process needs serious reconsideration. How this will be accomplished, I have not the foggiest idea. For my part, I feel like I can identify the cure and the disease yet I am lost at how to administer the cure in an efficacious manner.

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I do not think that I truly "received" an education until I was at college, but that was only when I realized that to receive an education one must take an active role in deciding what they are going to do for themselves. Getting good grades, being successful at accomplishing academic goals, and being dedicated to applying oneself are noteworthy aspirations and accomplishments. I think people deserve accolades for being able to "do school" well. Is this learning? Maybe. It depends if this is done in connection with self-discovery, individuation, and character-formation. Otherwise, what you have is accomplishment without true dedication, knowledge without personal struggle, moral thinking without practice, beliefs without action--all evidence of an education without vocation.

To call forth from oneself, and to feel like one belongs in a career rather than using it for some other end like money, happiness and all that jazz, is a powerful experience. As it is, that is education in the proper sense.

"Do I choose a career or does it choose me?" How you answer that will demonstrate what you believe about education. Put another way: is your job, your major an extension of you or are you an extension of that job or major?

"Missional" Confusion: How Churches have Hijacked the Word "Missional"

2011-06-12T14:56:00.012-04:00

One thing I have learned about walking into churches is that you can learn a lot about what they believe by looking around and seeing how a church presents itself. You can read "what they believe" in a pamphlet or on their website but you truly get to know a church for what they really are when you see for yourself how they do things.

Look at their furniture, take a gander at their walls, look at the floor, look at the signs, see their sanctuary, look at their advertisements (all those things hanging around the church that catch your eye), look at whether they serve coffee in the fellowship area or not. You can learn a lot about a church by simply "looking around". It is an easy task, and it usually determines just what kind of a church people want to come to on a regular basis.

We want to believe that our "beliefs" matter--Not really.
We want to believe that it is the people in our congregation that are our most attractive asset--We only wish that were true most of the time!
We want to believe it is our preacher's speaking abilities--Yeah, right, as if anyone is listening!

We want to believe a lot of things about our congregations. But it is how we do things that ultimately matters.

This is how I learn about churches. Through all the advertisements, furniture, posters and decorations, I can determine what a church is like without even reading their "beliefs" or learning their "history".

Don't get me wrong; those things are important. I appreciate knowing where a congregation stands on certain issues. But those things do not reveal what a congregation is like unless I can see how they do things. In many cases, what a church says they believe does not match up with how they present themselves. That is why I prefer to see how they do things; it is much more indicative of the way things truly are than a list of "beliefs" or "church doctrines" can be.

This last weekend I walked into a church for a wedding. The wedding itself was great, as they always are (I have never experienced a "bad wedding" despite the fact that you see many of them in movies). The church, in which the wedding took place, frustrated me, however.

The church was set up like many modern churches. Coffee in the front, right next to leather couches. Posters championing "justice", "worship" and "love" hanging proudly from the walls. Flat screen TVs appropriately placed all over the building--so that you feel right at home. This church was the epitome of modern churches. The atmosphere was relaxed, comfortable and slightly consumeristic (a trend going around in most churches these days).

I have grown used to seeing these things in churches. And, for most of the things, they don't really bother me. Even though I don't drink coffee myself, I appreciate it being there. And who could find any reason to be upset with comfortable couches to sit upon?

What irked me about this church, however, was a sign hanging from the ceiling which contained the word "missional" with a black-and-white picture of a cappuccino coffee. I literally did several double-takes making sure that what I saw was accurate. I had to do this. I could not believe my eyes.

What I saw disturbed me so much that I could not determine if the sick feeling was from hunger pains or absolute intellectual distaste. To be honest, it was probably a little of both--but we will pretend that it was the latter more than the former. I much prefer righteous indignation over neglected dietary digestion.

Since graduating from seminary, I have heard the word "missional" used a handful of times. Each time I have been slightly hesitant to engage with people what they mean by it. The first time I heard it used was at a youth event by another leader. Hearing it in a context different than seminary was one thing but hearing it applied to me, even when I have never characterized myself as being "missional" to anyone (outside of a few friends at school), was doubly shocking. I would say that I was flattered by this characterization but in the context of our conversation it seemed misplaced. I am not sure how the person intended it but it did not seem to conform to anything I learned in seminary.

My fear is that "missional" is being used in ways that have no connection to how it was used in the original conversations during the 20th century by figures such as Bosch, Newbegin and Guder.

Seeing that poster confirmed this fear. Christians, even well-meaning ones, have hijacked this word so that they can brand what they are already doing with a newer, more exciting word. The funny thing is: I have heard conservative evangelicals, emergents and people from mainline denominations use the word "missional" for themselves. If you asked what each one meant with this word, you would find definitions and explanations so contradictory you would have to conclude that either one of these groups of people is right or all of them are wrong.

The truth, as I see it, is that all of these groups are wrong. Here's why:

1. If you look at the literature (see below for "recommended reading"), you would find that the word missional first arose in the context of mission by missionaries. Most of the conversations in which the idea of missional theology arose were at conferences of the World Council of Churches or other various missionary conferences (the history is too detailed to provide here). For this reason, people who use the word "missional" for their churches without considering its origins are victims of Original Fallacy. That means that they have been using the word with misconceived notions of how it originated. To figure out why this is a problem consider for a moment if you could truly understand the meaning of "buffalo wings" if you had no idea of how that type of finger-food came to be (Jessica Simpson is the obvious example of someone who had no idea what "buffalo wings" originally meant as evidenced by her mistaken belief that buffalo's must have had wings in order for the wings to be called "buffalo wings").

2. Missional does not refer merely to "having a mission"--whatever that mission may be. If that were the case, anyone could use the word. The Dallas Mavericks could say, for example, that they are missional because it was their mission to win an NBA championship. If you look at missional literature, there is no evidence of the word "missional" being used to describe organizations that have a mission statement or such. Mission always refers to God and God's triune nature, especially in the Father's sending of the Son. The church therefore does not have a mission nor does it create one. The order is reversed, on the contrary. Mission creates the church. This is not in the sense that the "need to get people saved" is the reason why the church exists. Rather it is because we are a part of Christ's church, His body, that the church is to be a part of God's sending of the Son because of our relationship to Christ. This is what missional means in terms of the practice of the church. To speak of it any other way would be to commit the Practical Fallacy which entails the (false) notion that the word missional is a descriptive word for a church which practices a particular mission--to save the lost, to serve the poor, etc.

3. Unfortunately, the word "missional" is easy to misunderstand because when people hear the world mission they automatically think one of two things: One, foreign missions. Two, service projects and mission trips. This misconception is more forgivable but its problem is that it reduces the scope of what "missional" actually entails. This forms, what I call, the Reductionist Fallacy. This fallacy is problematic in that it reduces mission to particular acts. Missional theology, originally conceived, fought reductions of the gospel which focused only on personal salvation. Now, it has to fight against misconceptions that mission is only contained in evangelism, work projects, or foreign missions. In contrast, "missional" really means that mission is more about who God is and who the church is than particular acts by God or the church.

There are many other fallacies, but these three are the most common in my experiences with people who use the word "missional" to describe themselves.

With this in mind, you can understand my frustrations with how that church--which I mentioned above--was using the word "missional". If I may interpret what it means (in case the point is eluding you): this sign basically tells people that "it is our mission to make you feel comfortable." That's it. This is why I cringed when I saw it, and why I am extremely disappointed that no reflection whatsoever was done by this church to understand if that was the appropriate word.

By choosing to use the word "missional" in this case this church is not only committing the three fallacies mentioned above but it is sending a mixed message to people.

In the interest of clarification, I think this church should replace the word "missional" with "comfort". At least this way no confusion, or consternation, will result in the people who enter the doors of that church.

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Recommended Reading:

Bauckham, Richard. "Bible and Mission: Christian Witness in a Postmodern World."
Bosch, David J. "Transforming Mission: Paradigm Shifts in Theology of Mission."
Flett, John G. "The Witness of God"
Guder, Darrell L. "The Continuing Conversion of the Church."
Newbegin, Leslie. Anything he wrote.
Rouse, Rick and Craig Van Gelder. "A Field Guide for the Missional Congregation."
Sanneh, Lamin. "Whose Religion is Christianity? The Gospel Beyond the West."

Can a Christian Give Christianity a Bad Name?

2011-06-03T10:25:00.008-04:00

During a conversation the other day I found myself thinking about whether or not a Christian can make Christianity look bad. I will not reveal what this conversation was about, nor whom was involved in this particular discussion, because I do not think that this issue can be settled by its particulars. In other words, the specifics concerning who did what, when it happened, and how people reacted do not settle whether or not a person can make Christianity look bad with their actions. The issue must be settled simply by discussing if it is possible to defame Christianity by one's deeds or spoil its reputation by committing evil acts.

At first, I must say, the answer seems obvious: of course a Christian can make Christianity look bad! Consider, for instance, all the evil done in the name of Christianity--the Crusades, the Inquisition, Manifest Destiny, Salem Witch Trials, in particular, or racism, sexism, and nationalism, in general. Put a finger on any spot in Christian history and it is bound to point out some evil act that spoils Christianity's reputation.

The answer must then seem that simple: Christians do, and have many times, given Christianity a bad name. But is this really the truth of the situation? Is this the whole picture? Moreover, is it in the nature of Christianity that it can be given a bad name?

The further one delves the more one realizes how ludicrous it is to be concerned with the reputation of Christianity. Of course no one wants to give off a bad impression in any situation, but do we need to be that concerned about how Christianity looks? We could say, in response, that it is much more important to be concerned with God's reputation than with the reputation of a religion. Is it not true, after all, that Christianity is more about a relationship with God than a religion about God?

If we turn over that rock, however, and become more consumed with God's reputation than with the reputation of Christianity, then I believe we are going to be surprised with what we find. And what we find may surprise us so much that we have to reconsider what Christianity is about in the first place.

At the center of Christianity, for all Christians, is Jesus Christ. At the center of Jesus Christ, is the cross. To make these statements is to state the obvious. Any Christian, no matter what their age or spiritual maturity, can make these conclusions about Christianity. One does not even need to be a Christian to make them either. They should be obvious to all.

Satisfied with our focal point for Christianity, we should then move on to consider what it means to have Christ and His cross as the center of our beliefs. For many the cross represents triumph and freedom from the guilt of sin, as if the cross is some type of transaction in which we hand over our sins and are given back delightful satisfaction. I think, somewhere in this representation, there is a nugget of truth, but it has been so distorted with over-sentimentalization that the truth is barely recognizable.

This presentation of the the cross is based on verses such as Romans 5:8, 1 Corinthians 15:3, and 1 Peter 3:18. But these verses hardly give us the idea that the cross is merely a means (death) to an end (salvation). It comprises that for sure but the truth of the cross cannot be contained with that notion, for it is also the end as wells as the means to an end. In other words, the cross is the end in the same way that Christ is also the end of the law (Rom. 10:4)--it is the culmination, the fulfilment, of who Jesus is. The cross is therefore just as much about who Jesus Christ is than what He does on it.

I believe, for this reason, that when you begin to consider the cross this way that you come across the first major problem concerning Christianity: if it is our belief that the cross fully represents who God is, then how can we believe in such a God?

The cross is an ugly portrait, a depiction of abject suffering--it is hardly the triumph that we make it out to be. Furthermore, how can God suffer such a fate? We could respond by saying because God loved us but that would seem to gloss over the nature of the cross and ignore the ugly reality it contains.

God dying on the cross is the grandest of all contradictions. How is it that a God, who is wholly perfect, wholly complete, and wholly unchangeable can die on a cross, the most ignoble of deaths? When we think of God we think of life, eternal life; we do not think of death.

We could try to diminish this "embarrassment" by jumping forward to the resurrection and demonstrating that even though Christ, as the Son of God, suffered death that He was able to be raised from the dead. Truly that changes things, right?

Not really.

We still have to do with the fact that God dies on the cross, and with that fact it seems to contradict any notion we have about God--that God is unchangeable, eternal and incapable of death.

But, perhaps, that is the point--one that we are rarely able to make as Christians because the cross, in its fullest reality, is not something we wish to dwell upon too long. We want to paint a gloss over the cross, make it seem more triumphal, more emotionally satisfying, so that we do not have to deal with the contradiction between what we believe about God--that God is eternal--and what we believe is the center of Christianity--that Jesus Christ, fully human and fully divine, died on the cross.

We want to believe that the two do not contradict one another, but at some point something has to give. Either we drop those two beliefs all together (as atheists would), drop one of them (as a heretic would), or we live with the contradiction. Of course, the other option would be to ignore the contradiction, and this seems very popular in most churches today.

AndI believe it is because we ignore this contradiction that most Christians are concerned with the reputation of Christianity and/or God's reputation. We want to paint a picture over the ugly reality of what the cross truly represents: a contradiction in how we believe God to truly be.

Can you imagine someone painting over a DaVinci, a Van Gogh, or a Picasso? No, that would be considered one of the vilest forms of art--if you can call it art.

In the same way, our concern with the reputation of Christianity is linked with our inability to consider the full reality of the cross. This is not faith, it is its opposite: insecurity. Faith is about security in God despite insecurity, not security in God because of security.

Jurgen Moltmann, in The Crucified God, tries to break free from this insecurity when he considers the theology of Martin Luther concerning the cross. Listen and read these words carefully, for in them we come to terms with the contradiction mentioned above:

"To know God means to endure God. To know God in the cross of Christ is a crucifying form of knowledge, because it shatters everything to which [humankind] can hold and on which [humankind] can build, both [human] works and [human] knowledge of reality, and precisely in so doing sets [humankind] free...the one who knows God in the lowliness, weakness and dying of Christ does not know him in the dreamed-of exaltation and divinity of the [human] who seeks God, but in the humanity which [he or she] has abandoned, rejected and despised. And that brings to nothing [humankind's] dreamed-of equality with God, which has dehumanized [God], and restores [humankind to] humanity, which the true God made [God's] own." (pp. 212-2130.)

In these words from Moltmann we come to realize that with the cross at the center of Christianity we need not be concerned with the reputation of Christianity, for Christianity is not built upon easy-to-swallow ideas but very difficult ones.

So--does all this mean that a Christian can give Christianity a bad name? Yes and no. Yes, because Christians do horrible things which seem to contradict what Christianity is really about--love, peace and forgiveness. But, no, in the sense that Christianity is not really about good reputations because at the center of Christianity is the most ridiculous idea in which God died on a cross.

I must also point out the fact that since Christianity is a religion of forgiveness and grace that there is no action which can defame its character--even if these actions are done by supposedly morally upstanding Christians. It is impossible to fall from grace--the whole point of grace is that we don't deserve it in the first place (Eph. 2:8-10)!

Any time a Christian does something that seems to ruin the reputation of Christianity, we must remember that the cross forms the center of our religion. And this cross, despite its ugly and incomprehensible nature, represents love in it its truest, most ultimate form--God suffering as a human to the point of death. This is grace. This is forgiveness. And no action--even by a Christian--can distort this truth.

The Formative Five: The Top 5 Books which shaped my life

2011-05-30T18:51:00.004-04:00

The internet is overwhelmed with "best of" lists. You can find one for just about any subject. Music. Literature. Writers. Movies. Sports franchises. Schools. Cities. The list is seemingly endless.

I do not know what this indicates--maybe an inner competive drive to establish superiority over others--but rarely do you see a list which describes what has shaped a person's life. Lists of this type are different from a "best of" list in at least one major way: it demonstrates what was important in cultivating a person's intellectual, emotional and spiritual life.

"Best of" lists attempt to establish universality through objective means. How this book was received at its time, what album caused a band's popularity to rise, how this writer defined or redefined a particular writing style--we use methods like these to quantify the importance of things. Like I said before, I do not know any particular reason why this is so--there might be many of them--I only know it exists and everyone seems to compile them.

I would like to divert from this path in this post and hopefully venture onto one that is more profitable for our minds, hearts and souls. I concede the fact that the path I choose to follow is more subjective, following my experience instead of trying to balance it with others, but I do so because I think our culture, while it glorifies self-expression, does a poor job of discussing what makes us who we are as individuals.

I want to list out those things which had an impact on my life. These are things that I either view positively or negatively--either one does not matter. For good or ill, I want to shed light on those things that have made me who I am. Some of those things I no longer consider a current part of my life. I have made many changes in my life. Some good. Some bad. I want to be honest in demonstrating what things have shaped my existence up to this point.

For my first post, I want to list out the five books that have shaped my life in one way or another. I call them my "formative five" because I cannot imagine my life without them. These books are not necessarily my favorites--believe me, I wish I had a more impressive list. But these are the books which have had the biggest impact on my life. For better or worse, I could not do without these books.

Here they are, listed in no particular order:

1. The Bible - This seems an obvious choice, especially for a youth minister. It would be shocking for most if I did not include it on here. I include it, though, because it is the one book which I have spent the most time reading and reflecting upon. I love this book and, at times, I hate it. To me, as well as for many Christians, this is more than a simple book--it is the book of all books. I say this not because of its popularity nor because three major world religions are based on it. I say it because it is the book that has made me who I am more so than any other book.

2. "Inferno" by Dante. The first part of his "Divine Comedy", this is the book that helped spark my love for reading. It is not the images of hell which I find most compelling in it(though this is fascinating in its own right). For me it is the greatest summary of philosophy and theology in one book that I have ever read. (If you know me, you know why I value this so much). The fact that this was done through the medium of poetry makes it all the more interesting.

3. "Dynamics of Faith" by Paul Tillich. I read this book for a philosophy class in college. I consider it one of the two books that revived my faith in a time of spiritual darkness. Because it did such an amazing job of describing faith, I was able to come to terms with the spiritual doubt that impaired my trust in God. In short, this book restored my faith in the "God who is above God".

4. ""A Generous Orthodoxy" by Brian McLaren. This is the second of the two books which revived my faith during my college years. Whereas Tillich's "Dynamics of Faith" helped my faith in God, this book restored my faith in the church. I have clearly moved on from my "McLaren days" but this book remains a vital piece in my love for the church.

5. "A Failure of Nerve" by Edwin Friedman. This is the most recently read of all the books that are listed in my formative five. (I finished it two weeks ago to be exact). What makes this book stand out, and why it has affected my life so greatly, is that it undermines traditional assumptions about leadership and relationships. The book represents for me--to steal an analogy from the book--something very similar to Columbus discovering America or Prince Henry discovering that the world does not end at the equator. I feel like I have discovered a new part to who I am in this book. I also feel like I have a renewed sense of what it takes to be a leader in ministry because of its gnomic truths.

So there you have it: my formative five books.

What are yours?

Gethsemane vs.Golgotha: Is the Cross Really That Important?

2011-05-23T21:10:00.013-04:00

I admit that in a certain sense, to the untrained eye concerning the Bible, the title of this post looks and sounds like a prime-time heavyweight boxing match--much like Ali vs. Frazier, Robinson vs. Armstrong or LaMotta vs. Robinson.

My love for metal also leads me to think that it could be interpreted as a debate between which black metal band is better. (For those not in the know, black metal bands are notorious for choosing band names that have a dark and evil sound to them, like Gethsemane and Golgotha. The band Gorgoroth, named after a location in the Lord of the Rings, or the band Gehenna, comes to mind).

For those privy to the Bible, Gethsemane and Golgotha are names of places which have special importance in the passion account of Christ.

To pit Gethsemane against Golgotha in the title of the post is not to stage a contest between the importance of one over the other. It is for contrast, so that we can compare the similarities and point out the differences. Even though the "vs." could be interpreted to mean a competition of sorts, I mean nothing of the sort here.

Jesus of course visited many places up until the time of His death, but I include these two accounts in particular because of their description of Jesus' suffering. Most would recognize "Golgotha"--which means 'place of the skull'--as a place of torment for Christ. It is where He was crucified, under the orders of Pontius Pilate, unto death. It is also where many people believe that salvation was accomplished (more on that in a moment).

"Gethsemane"--which means roughly 'oil press'--to a lesser extent is known as a place of suffering for Christ. At this place Jesus prayed while His disciples slept (despite His request otherwise). This is also the scene where Judas Iscariot betrays Jesus with a kiss. In contrast to Golgotha, Gethsemane is rarely, if ever, included in Christ's accomplishment of salvation for the world.

It is this last point which I want to focus on in this post. In sum, I want to argue that Gethsemane is as important as Golgotha for our salvation, if not even more so for what is done in this scene of Jesus' life.

But first: a little history to give some context for what I will be arguing.

The doctrine of atonement--that is, the doctrine concerning how we are redeemed and saved--has had a long and varied history. I do not have the time to go into all the details of this history but I will say that the atonement, historically speaking, at least in the early church, took a back seat to a more important issue: the nature of Christ. The debate that formed around Christ's nature spanned about four hundred years and it is represented by the various creeds and councils from that time (Nicene, Constantinople, Chalcedon, etc.). The biggest issue for these councils was how to think of Jesus Christ in relationship to God (divinity) and His relationship to humanity (humanity of Christ).

Though what came from these councils did not convince everyone, they certainly settled how the church was to think about Christ's divinity and humanity for some time. Later on, people began to wrestle more intently with the issue of how our salvation was accomplished through atonement.

Atonement had always been on the mind of the church but none of the creeds or councils specifically dealt with how the church should view atonement. This meant that theologians and pastors began to focus more on what could be called the "work" of Christ instead of His "person" as was the case for the early church.

Theologians--at least those who were good at theology and remained orthodox in their pursuits--certainly did not want to separate Christ's person from His work or vice versa. The task was to keep these two in unity and equality. One could say that any time a theologian ventured too far off in the direction of one over the other they lost their connection with orthodoxy and even, in some cases, became heretics.

My observation today is that American evangelical churches are in danger of directing themselves more to the "work" of Christ than His "person". This has dangerous repercussions, including a trivialization of the incarnation by using the incarnation only as a prerequisite for Christ's work on the cross instead of as a vital part to His life and ministry as the perfect 'image of God' (2 Corinthians 4:4).

This is why I think we need the Gethsemane scene. Our churches are too focused on the cross that we are blinded to the reality of who Christ was and is. The movie "Passion of the Christ" is a manifestation of this blindness; it is as if Christ is only recognizable as our Lord by the pain of His sufferings. All that is important to some churches is that Christ spilled His blood; any discussion of who Christ really is and what that means for us is muted by the absurd worship jingles which are blasted every week in churches all across this country.

"Okay," I want to say, "I get the point that Christ died on the cross but who is this Christ and why should His sufferings have any effect on my salvation?"

I never ask that question. Frankly, I am not sure anyone would actually want to join in on that conversation. Who has the time for that?

What I love about the Gethsemane scene is that it provides the church with a corrective to their salvation narrative. Instead of "Jesus died for me" we can add a little more flavor and depth by including "Jesus bound His human will to the divine will so as to accomplish what I never could."

This is the essence of the Gethsemane scene. It is why Christ suffered so much pain in it. This garden is one point on a journey for the salvation of the world. I should point out that this means that the cross too is merely one point in this journey, even if it is the center and focus of that journey. It should also be pointed out that this journey has not ended. It did not end with the cross. It did not end with the resurrection. It did not end with the ascension. It will end when we are all resurrected into the new heaven and new earth.

At this point you might understand my frustration but you might not fully see why Gethsemane is so important. I did not either until very recently when I stumbled upon the work of Maximus the Confessor. While little known to most, Maximus is one of the great shapers of the Christian tradition, especially concerning the doctrine of the person of Christ. Without him, the church might believe in monotheletism--the belief that, although both human and divine, Christ only had one will, a divine will.

For most that probably does not sound like that big of a deal. "Who cares if Christ has only one will?" "Whether Christ had one or two or even three wills does not matter in the grand scheme of things, it only matters if He truly lived, died and was raised."

Such statements ignore the truth of Christ's identity. We affirm in the incarnation that Christ was fully human and fully divine. These two natures were united in one person, yet we affirm rigorously, despite how confusing it is, that Christ was both human and divine. To assert anything else would undermine our faith that Christ truly saves. How can He save us, after all, if His nature is not adequate to do so?

For Maximus, Christ must have a human will and a divine will. One will would not suffice for salvation. Even if that will is divine, Christ can only save if He is like us in every way (Hebrews 4:15). That means Christ must have had two wills, otherwise Christ's identity is incomplete and our salvation impossible.

Of the Garden of Gethsemane, Maximus believes that it is here where the two wills of Christ are demonstrated. Jesus' prayer that "if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not what I want but what you want" (Matt. 26:39 NRSV) would not make sense if this were not truly the case.

In the Garden, Christ must bind His human will to the divine will. He must, in short, will the salvation of the world or the world will not be saved.

I think it highly intriguing that in this same scene that His disciples are there with him yet their human will cannot even keep them awake when Jesus needs them. The fact that Jesus wants His closest disciples with Him in His hour of need sounds strange to us, especially if we have grown accustomed to a view of Jesus as more divine than human.

It is there in the Garden where humanity is represented. Like the Garden of Eden, the Garden of Gethsemane is a scene of humanity's greatest failures. We don't have it in us to be complete on our own. Our human will cannot be bound to the divine will by our own efforts. In case we have illusions that, while it is impossible for most, a special few can attain this, the disciples dispel our fanciful machinations. The closest disciples of Jesus, the ones He trusted the most to be there with Him in His most vulnerable moment, could not even stay awake let alone attain righteousness!

The Garden of Gethsemane both sets the plot for salvation and in its own way accomplishes it. There still needs to be a cross for that is the climax of the salvation narrative. But without Gethsemane the cross would lose its meaning. Christ must will salvation, with a human will, in order for salvation to truly be redemptive.

The Garden is the active component of salvation; the cross the passive. Christ must suffer death for salvation to occur, but death is a passive act. Even in suicide one can not actively will death. In order to will you must live, and if you have no life you have no will. Salvation needs an active component in order for it to be redemptive. I believe that that component was displayed and accomplished in the suffering glory of Christ in the Garden on Gethsemane.

Speaking of Christ's suffering in the Garden, we can no longer view that suffering as anticipation of Christ's impending death. We must view that suffering as Christ' actualization of salvation. The suffering must have been immense, maybe even greater than the physical pain of death on a cross. For in the Garden Christ does the impossible: he binds the human will to the divine will not by glorious intervention of divine strength but by inglorious participation in human weakness.

His tears were human tears; tears shed so that we might have life, that we might have hope beyond our present suffering. In the Garden, Jesus suffers the humiliation of humanity but does so without sin.

This is why Gethsemane needs to be revived in churches. Not just their theology but their worship and service need a revival of spirit and mind. I can say with confidence that without Gethsemane there would be no Golgotha (at least in a meaningful sense). The opposite is also true (No Golgotha, No Gethsemane) but Gethsemane teaches us that salvation is no salvation unless we consider the person and work of Christ.

In Gethsemane this is on full display. Gethsemane brings us to the climax of Golgotha. May we never forget this.

Who Helps the Poor?

2011-05-16T11:08:00.008-04:00

During my junior year of college at Anderson University, I went on a road trip to Calvin College with three friends of mine--Caldwell Manners, Chris Schumerth and Nathan Barrow. Our expedition to the state of Michigan during the month of January was not your typical college road trip. Far from it, actually. We were, after all, going to Michigan in the middle of winter (that should indicate what our trip was not about).

Our reason for doing so was not to vacation or take a break from the stresses of academic rigor. We were there to attend a conference about the relationship between faith and politics, religion and justice, peace and globalization.

I have lots of memories from this conference. Enticing? Exhilarating? Probably not. But the trip did have some fine moments, of which I can never forget, nor would I willingly choose to do so.

There is something about having the coldness of winter matched with the grandness of a road trip with several friends plus the added hilarity of our first night sleeping escapade (a story that requires being told in person) that you cannot ignore or forget. I know this trip had a profound impact on me. And I am sure it was just as profound for my friends as well.

I do not remember many particulars from the conference itself, but it was during this conference that I first heard an argument that I have encountered many times throughout my involvement in the church. And every time I hear it, it aggravates me the same way each time and weakens my resolve to be charitable to all people, regardless of their opinions.

It goes something like this: "Jesus says in the Gospels that 'you will always have the poor with you', so we do not need to spend all this time as Christians trying to eradicate poverty."

I do not want to lead you to believe that this argument shows up in most conversations regarding the Christian response to poverty. Anyone partaking in a serious conversation about poverty and the appropriate Christian response will not resort to it. It is simply not that convincing--to anyone.

Reading the context surrounding Matt.26:11 and Mark 14:7 establishes the lunacy of such an argument. I am amazed that the argument was formed in the first place. (Based on the responses of people at the conference, many people were exasperated with the person who raised it because it was more of a distraction than a constructive piece for discussion). I mean, you really have to disregard the text to arrive at such an interpretation of these verses. Then again, I guess, given our history, humans do a splendid job at misunderstanding the obvious or choosing to act or react before understanding. Alas, it is our condition to be fallible and fanciful--and we must bear it, as Atlas endlessly bears the weight of the heavens.

The lunacy of this argument here only serves as an appetizer or an aperitif to the main course of confusion over the Christian response to poverty. This one is more dangerous than the one above, mainly because it lacks the lunacy of the former argument. As I will contend, this argument is insidious precisely because of how prevalent and convincing it really is. I have been known myself to use a variant of it from time to time.

The argument goes like this: "Government/taxes/etc. should not be used to help the poor because it is the church's responsibility to do so." This argument shows up in many guises and forms--some more deleterious, some less so. For the most part, it takes the above form, and its appeal is based on truths. Whereas the argument that "Jesus said we will always have the poor with us and have no need to eradicate it" has no basis in truth, this argument is based on some truths that all of us hold dear.

Here they are:

1. Human Responsibility - people are held accountable for their own actions; to take responsibility for another's actions inhibits their ability to be responsible themselves.

2. The Nature of the Church - Through Scripture, the church is called to service of the less-fortunate (Deut. 15:11; Psalm 72:4; Isaiah 58:10; Gal. 2:10; James 1:27).

No one would deny the integrity of these truths, regardless of religious or political persuasion. But these two truths are assumed to ground the above-mentioned argument as if the verification of it is solely regarded by the undisputed verification of them. This is, no less, an argument from assumption. And arguments from assumption rarely succeed logically--though their appeal emotionally is quite cogent.

The problem with this argument is it assumes that responsibility can be divided in such a way between governments and church without making a mockery of responsibility and the issue of poverty.

Arguments such as these resemble the Two-Kingdom theology which states that there is a clear line between the heavenly kingdom and the earthly kingdom. This theology has had many permutations in its time. It is associated mainly with Martin Luther, though John Calvin and many other theologians ascribed to it. It probably began with Augustine's "two cities" in his magnum opus "City of God," though there are certainly many differences between Augustine and Luther, for all they have in common.

Whatever its origins, this theology focuses on the difference between the earthly and heavenly kingdoms. Obviously, Luther and others stated that all things belonged to God, so this was not Platonic dualism in disguise. They clearly believed that God ruled over all things, visible and invisible.

Two-Kingdoms theology has had a tricky history of interpretation. Just where the rule of governments (earthly kingdoms) begin and end and where churches (as extensions of the heavenly kingdom) begin and end has been much disputed. Sometimes this issue is clearly resolved, as in cases where the role of governments are mentioned in the Bible, like Romans 13. In many cases, however, this theology resulted in some Christians sitting back when governments caused injustice (though some two-kingdoms theologians addressed the permissibility of Christians decrying injustice by the government and even at times acting out against it). This very issue has led many people to shy away from supporting this theology too fully.

However this theology is thought of, its use in our above-mentioned argument that governments should stay out of dealing with poverty because it is the churches responsibility is clearly a case in which two-kingdoms theology misses the mark.

I know of no passage in the Bible where the church is called to handle poverty without any government intrusion. Indeed, I really do not see any evidence that the Bible would support such an allocation between church and government.

I do know that there are verses in which God will hold governments accountable for any injustices they cause against poor people. In the Old Testament, God held the Israelites accountable for treating poor people unjustly (see Amos, for instance). There were also many laws and provisions concerning the poor in the Torah, the first five books of the Bible (see Exodus 22-23 and Leviticus 25). In Psalm 72, it is also evident that God rrequired kings to defend and deliver the poor.

There was hardly any separation between responsibilities there. We do have to keep in mind, however, that Old Testament forms of government were either theocratic or God-blessed-monarchies. This keeps us from going too far in arguing that the same laws and provisions apply to modern, secular governments. Yet I think it important to see that God used government in the Old Testament to deal with poverty. I cannot say that this was as effective as God intended--sin got in the way many times--but it is evident that God wanted our approach to poverty to be as systemic (personal, relational, social) as its systemic cause (a result of personal and social sin).

In the New Testament, most of the teachings on poverty are of the general sort, though they are specifically addressed to those who follow Christ. There are no examples, as in the Old Testament, that address the government's responsibility to deal with poverty. I guess, based on this fact, you could say that it is only the churches responsibility to deal with the poor. But I see no reason to make that leap. While Jesus never teaches about the responsibilites of the government to poor people, it is clear that He came "to bring good news to the poor" (Luke 4:18).

Jesus was indeed political, just not in the way we expect people to be "political". Everything He did had consequences. Everything He said had universal application. Poverty was close to His heart--so close, in fact, that I cannot imagine Jesus ever making a case that only churches can rightly deal with poverty. They can, and most certainly should, but this does not nullify any attempt by a government to do so. I think Jesus would support any attempt at justice for the poor.

For sure, the New Testament was not meant to be a government law book. It was written to a distinct people who see themselves as a part of God's Kingdom. We don't know, for that reason, according to the New Testament, how God would treat the issue of government involvement in poverty, except to carry out law and justice to the best of its ability. It was not written, for that matter, to discuss the finer points of government law and tax codes. It was written for a transient and apostolic people who were to do Kingdom work here and now as they awaited the fullness of the Kingdom in the future.

This is why I must reject the argument that governments should stay out of the business of dealing with poverty because only churches should do so. I believe that God's Kingdom is all-inclusive, and though it has various parts and functions, it should not reject the notion that governments can help with poverty.

Of course, this does not mean that there is one way for governments to do this--that is, by supporting certain bills or measures meant at dealing with the issue of poverty. Moreover, this does not mean that governments will not mess up because, as anyone can state with a relative degree of assurance, they most certainly do. I am sure we could all come up with several examples of this.

I understand some of the hostility people have with governments getting involved in dealing with poverty. Some of the reasons are more acceptable than others. I certainly see concern over the effectiveness of taxes in dealing with poverty; I cannot agree with, however, some of the greedy and avaricious reasons that are masqueraded behind this concern.

Additionally, I have a difficult time buying the argument that the church can handle this issue on its own. We may do a good job at helping poor people but I do not believe that poverty can be addressed solely by the church and her resources. Poverty is too invasive, too ubiquitous, too ugly and too pervasive to be handled by religious groups, Christian or not.

And so, I avoid the argument that governments should not be involved in dealing with poverty since that is church's responsibility.

I can say, quite summarily, that the Bible does not support this argument. As the church, we are asked, if not required, to do so as followers of Christ, but I do not see how this by extension prohibits government involvement.

And I can also say, quite confidently, that if you use this argument but do nothing in your personal life to try to alleviate poverty, then you need to come up with an argument that does not make you look hypocritical.

Rehabilitating 'Church'

2011-05-10T15:00:00.004-04:00

The title of this post is not accidental. There are many words which could express the need for change in the church. One I struggled with the most is "redemption". After some thought, I opted more for "rehabilitation."

Redemption would seem to suggest that the church has fallen from grace, needing the saving work of Christ in order to restore its lost status as God's people. To be sure, the church is full of people in need of redemption, but as a redemptive community, with Christ as its head, it would be inappropriate to say that the church needs redemption. That would be like saying Christ is not doing his job leading the church, like some rogue minister caught up in more important things than the life of the church. No, we cannot go down that road.

There are problems with the word "rehabilitation" as well. One is the implicit notion, contained in the word itself, that rehabilitation is only temporary and that at some point the church will be cured by its own hands. We want the church to be in the process of being healed, and we certainly hope for the day in which it is, but the church is always in need of healing and reformation (semper reformada). The church is the fellowship of broken people in need of God's grace. It must remain so, not because sin is to be enjoyed or God is unable to do so, but by being broken it exists as a community should--wonded yet healing, divided but united, sinful yet justified, broken but redemptive.

It is not surprising that churches are always trying to change their approach to ministry--there is something grand and spiritual in discerning the need for reform and change. The problem, however, is not that the church must change but in how it chooses to do so.

Jurgen Moltmann, in "The Church in the Power of the Spirit", categorizes these approaches in two basic strategies for reform: One, "reform from above". Two, "reform from below." In the former, the object is to change the church itself--its ministries, ministers, structure, and so on. This strategy is seen most clearly in churches--mostly denominational--today that attempt to adapt church life to the world with the purpose of attracting or bringing people back to the church.

In the second strategy, the desire is to create community first and then build a church around it. This approach considers the church at its most successful when it is out in the world building community and working with people. One can see this approach enacted by many Emergent and non-denominational churches.

Both of these approaches certainly have their merits. We do need to change church structure from time to time so that our ministry can thrive. We also need to be with people in an effort to be the church and not just do church.

The temptation might be to synthesize these two approaches, in Hegelian fashion, in the hope that by doing so one gets the best of both worlds. Unfortunately, it is never that simple--and I seriously doubt that Hegel could be responsible for completely changing the life of the church.

Moltmann certainly notes the importance and usefulness of these two approaches; they are certainly not to be disregarded. Yet, for him, the general contours of rehabilitation in the church must follow the following path: "without assembly no fellowship, without fellowship no freedom, without freedom no action" (pg. 334). The point, in other words, is that for any rehabilitation to occur in must occur first in the fellowship of the church. Indeed, "the church will not overcome its present crisis through reform of the administration of the sacraments, or from the reform of its ministries. It will overcome this crisis through the rebirth of practical fellowship"(317).

Moltmann wrote all of this back in 1975 but I think that the crisis of which he speaks is the same crisis today--how the church can truly be the church in Word, sacraments and fellowship.

He gives us four suggestions, two of which we have just discussed. The last two are: an open church and unity among churches (for which he appeals to ecumenism). The point of an open church is that it resist the tendency to close in on itself by becoming obsessed with who is in and who is not. This leads to the point about unity among churches. The goal here is not to obtain one church with the same beliefs and dogmas (which is more like uniformity than unity) but rather the ability to celebrate the triune God--Father, Son and Spirit--by our common work.

For Moltmann, the Trinity is all important for the life of the church. You could say that a healthy view of the trinity is the path on which the healthy church must tread. By doing so, for instance, you avoid hiearchalism because of the inner life of the trinity in which all members are equal yet distinct.

What is to be commended in Moltmann's thinking is the fact that no form or model other than faith in Christ can adequately express what we mean by 'church.' What truly rehabilitates the church then is no reform other than faith in Christ, emphasis both on our faith and the person and work of Christ, though the foundation is upheld in the latter and the ministry is carried out in the former.

Will the church ever be cured in this life and world? The answer must be "no", however, this is the type of work that must be done in the church regardless. The process of healing is certainly of a different sort than the actual healing itself, but it is the only way in which we can obtain it. We can have faith though that, however long and difficult the path may be, we will arrive at what John the Revalator calls "the new heaven and the new earth" (Rev. 21:1).

Are Christians Biblically Illiterate?

2011-05-06T14:09:00.004-04:00

I stumbled upon this article the other day. It is an interview with Chuck Swindoll, who is a pastor of Stonebrier Community Church in Frisco, TX. (Back in the day, before I went to college for ministry, Swindoll was one of my favorite teachers. Many things have changed since then, but I still do look back on my early days listening to his sermons on the radio--does anyone do that anymore?--as a new Christian with much pleasure and gratitude, even if I disagree with most of his thinking).

Swindoll's claim is that as churches become more entertainment driven, in an effort to follow the attractional model of business, they become more biblically illiterate. I think that the connection between those two points is very loose--if not completely tenuous--but I do think that the church, for whatever reason, is biblically illiterate.

Now, as a youth pastor, I experience some frustration, from time to time, when my kids don't even know the most basic of biblical stories, but this phenomenon is to be expected--they are kids after all.

What is shocking to me is that a lot of adult Christians I meet suffer from "biblical anemia", that is, a condition in which their faith does not have enough Scripture in it to thrive on a healthy and mature level.

I do not want to make the claim that a lack of biblical knowledge is a symptom of a weak spiritual life. That would be going too far. But there is a sense in which I feel that a lack of biblical knowledge can set you back spiritually and hinder you from thriving in your Christian walk.

I should mention that being biblically illiterate in my view is not concerned with knowing all the biblical stories and characters, nor is it concerned with having myriad verses memorized. Being biblically illiterate is more about lacking the knowledge and understanding of what the Bible teaches and how the Bible as a whole shapes history and the church.

I have met many people who don't know many biblical stories, but have a great understanding of what the Bible teaches--more often than not, this is accomplished by seeing the example of other mature Christians who live out what the Bible teaches (thank God for these people!).

I have also met a lot of people who know a lot of biblical stories and have many verses memorized that have little to no biblical literacy.

So you do not necessarily have to read the Bible on a regular basis or have all the biblical stories and characters memorized to be considered biblically literate--you just need a firm understanding of what the Bible teaches. This does require that you read the Bible on a regular basis, but we should not presume to think that this will guarantee biblical literacy.

Do you find that Christians are biblically illiterate? More importantly, are you biblically illiterate? What do you think is the cure for biblical illiteracy?

godSPEAK v. 4 ...mission...

2011-04-26T13:28:00.004-04:00

How do we talk about God?

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Talking about God is dangerous business. People say you should just avoid it, as you do "politics" and "sex".

In some countries, demonstrating your belief in God could get you killed (depending on what "god" you believe in).

In other countries, belief in God is a farce, a delusional leftover from a primitive time, which is now perpetuated in the present by ignorance (and sometimes greed).

Both of these scenarios are much different from one another in that they represent the cultural divide between a supposed "educated" world and an "uneducated" world. Those who are educated, including those who desire the demise of religion, all agree that killing others for their beliefs is unconscionable. Those who are (supposedly) uneducated--if it is possible to maintain that notion that only we are educated and not expose one's own bias and prejudice--belong to an older view that the only way to get rid of a religion is to, well, kill it off.

Obviously, I favor not killing people for their beliefs--no matter how radical they are. But I also do not favor the demise of religion or belief in God, because I do not see how that will ultimately solve all our problems.

At any rate, between these two very hostile scenarios, there is a middle ground of apathy that I think is far more dangerous to the church than persecution or rejection of religion. (In fact, those two things are a boon to religion, if you think about it, by only serving to propagate and multiply believers in religions than turn them away).

Apathy, and indifference, to belief in God, in how to talk about God and in what "God" means, are far more difficult to respond to than the above scenarios. I mean, seriously, how do you talk about something you find infinitely important when others do not even find it moderately important enough to bring up in idle conversation?

That I think brings us to the question of "mission" and how the church sees itself proclaiming the gospel to an indifferent world.

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Mission is the reason the church exists. It is its purpose and meaning, all in one.

This obviously goes against the notion that worship is the reason the church exists.

Some, like John Piper, argue extensively that worship is the central function of the church, that the church should become some type of theater in which God is adored and lifted up. His famous statement that "God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him" seems to perpetuate this myth about worship. To be fair, Piper would not say that worship is the only way to glorify God. But he would, as far as I have read him, say that worship is the final and most perfect way of relating to God.

In a book, which I have unfortunately forgotten the title, he goes so far to say that mission is only temporary but worship is forever (my paraphrase). This seems on the surface to be a correct appraisal of things, since in the new heaven and new earth there will not be the need to convert people or preach the gospel--we will worship and worship and worship, and that will define our existence, our relationship with God, ad infinitum.

The problem with this is that the notion that mission is only useful in serving another purpose, like worship or building up the church, falls short of who the biblical God is AND how mission should be viewed.

God's nature as the Trinity is the basis of mission. It is the relationship between the persons of the triune God that we come to understand mission, not through the need for people to hear the gospel and be converted.

Since the basis of mission is part of who God is (missio Dei), that means that mission is eternal, it is with, in and by God. Obviously, we are commissioned to proclaim the gospel to all nations (Matt. 28), but that is not what mission is all about. If we were to confine it merely to this, then we would have to agree that mission is only a temporary task, its use only to lead to another goal--worship.

Mission is a conversation, a rhythm, a musical score, a way of life, all centered and founded on the triune God--Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. To be sure, even though this conversation happens everywhere and at all times, this does not mean that all conversation is mission-centered. To affirm this would be to affirm pantheism since, as I stated above, mission is integral to God's nature, and if God's nature were everywhere, we would have God in everything.

Mission is not everything. But it is about everything. And it is because of this that we can truly talk about God with other people.

----------------------------------------------------

There is a certain sense in which this post on "mission" should have come before the ones on "prayer," "revelation" and "proclamation". But I wanted to demonstrate, first of all, that we must first realize that we all participate in Godspeak (prayer), and that this Godspeak needs God in order for it to realize its purpose (revelation), and that we who consciously participate (by proclamation) in this Godspeak must speak it (otherwise we defeat its purpose in that it is meant to be "spoken"), so that, in the end, we could understand that all of this is upheld by "mission".

The wonderful thing about mission forming our Godspeak is that this is something done in conjunction with God's nature. In fact, when God spoke everything into existence in Genesis 1, He did so solely because mission is a part of His nature. Jesus was there. The Spirit was there. Conversation formed everything; in fact, creation was a beautiful conversation between the triune God and the world.

(Theological and philosophical discussions about whether mission is a part of God's essence or merely an attribute of His essential being need not be explored here simply because we are not concerned with the "how this occurs" but with "how this affects us")

In this way, creation, salvation and sanctification are all parts of an ongoing conversation both within God and with the world.

For this reason, we can talk about God, because God talks. Period.

That is so exciting!

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How do we talk about God?

That question is problematic, on several accounts, because our response must take into account the nature of language and the nature of God. That is no small feat, for sure!

Essentially, though, we don't have to worry too much about how to respond to that question. All we need to know is that the conversation is there and it is ongoing.

We need not worry too much about relevance or "getting it right" in our Godspeak, as we preach the gospel, because God is current already in the conversation.

Our job is to join in on the conversation, and let it be what it is. Others will join, and we need not fear that they will be unable to understand us because prayer, which is Godspeak in its most primal and essential form, is our first-language. (We could, of course, mess this up by confusing theological language with Godspeak but that is an issue for another day).

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How do we talk about God?

We do so by talking back.

Reflections on My First Year as a Youth Minister: Part 2 (The Dangerous Gospel of Making an "Impact")

2011-04-18T14:35:00.020-04:00

I have heard it one too many times. And I am sure you have as well. The word is "impact". It is used in all kinds of contexts.

"Our business wants to make an impact on the community...". "This new piece of legislation should have an impact on the deficit...". "We just want to make an impact on the faith of our youth..." I could go on and on. But I will spare you the ubiquitous examples of "impact" usage. I am pretty sure we are well aware of its prevalence in the English vocabulary.

It is safe to say, without over-generalizing, that our culture is obsessed with the word "impact".

And I hate it.

It is not that the word is being misused (though I do think that does occur more often than not). It can be used both as a noun and as a verb, though its use as a verb predates its use as a noun by nearly 200 years (something tells me that it was only because of colloquial use that it was eventually expaned for use as a noun--but that is another story).

It is also not that there are better words. Well, actually, there are a plethora of words that might sound and work better. But my issue is not that we have a limited vocabulary.

And I will not argue that it should be only used as a verb or as a noun.

I hate it because, even when used figuratively, it is an inappropriate descriptor of what we really want to say, or, more importantly, what we intend to say. For instance, most of the time, when we use "impact", we do so to express the desire to "affect", "change", or "influence".

The problem is that the word "impact" is not a perfect synonym for these words, even if it does have some affiliation with them. "Impact" means, in its earliest meaning, "to collide". A later, more figurative meaning has it as a "forceful impression". (Take a gander here if you need a reference).

Whatever the case, the word "impact" does not give off a pretty or pleasing picture. It paints a bad one, a very destructive and deplorable one. But I hear this word used in contexts both positive and negative. So why do we use it, especially when we want to give off a positive impression?

Yeah, why do we use it?

This is a question I ask myself often as a youth minister. If there is any field that loves to use this word inappropriately, it is definitely youth ministry. Whether it is talking about worship, evangelism, spiritual development, or Christian maturity, we love this word.

It is as if we imbibe it from some unholy cup of Impact Wine. Our youth-speak, the words we use to describe our ministry and its purpose, is dominated by our inebriation of this Wine--"We are here to make an impact on our youth...we need to impact these kids with good morals and good Christian doctrine...the Word of God must make an impact on your life...our relationships should have an impact on how students deal with our problems".

I get why we use it: we want to affect our youth for Christ, for the good. That is great. Can we just avoid the word "impact", though, when we try to express that?

Honestly, I cannot see the true meaning of "impact" as an appropriate term for evangelism or discipleship when I read the Bible. The last thing I want to do is have an impact on the faith of my youth as a youth minister. Even if it is done with good purpose and motivation in mind, I don't want my teaching having an impact because faith is about growth. This is why, I think, Paul and the other NT writers used garden metaphors for the gospel (1 Corinthians 3:6-7, Mark 4:1-20, Matthew 13:1-23, Luke 8:1-15). After all, we are not here to impact the faith of our kids like the impact of some comet on earth, but we are here to plant seeds, to water them and enjoy the growth that God brings about.

That is such a more beautiful and lively picture than the word "impact" could ever create.

godSPEAK v. 3 ...proclamation...

2011-04-08T15:42:00.018-04:00

"We are proceeding toward a time of no religion at all...How do we speak of God without religion...How do we speak in a secular fashion of God" Dietrich Bonhoeffer (Prisoner for God, pg. 123)

"If the Church believes what it says it believes, then it is the place where the victory of Jesus Christ is not the last word to be heard and passed on but the first. For this reason and in this sense it is the place of revelation, of mercy and of peace, the hill of Zion to which the heathen, wittingly and willingly or not, are on the way. The Church which is this place will have something to say to the world and will be taken seriously by the world." Karl Barth (CD 1.1 5.3.2)

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How do we talk about God?

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A Christian knows--or at least should know, if they take discipleship seriously--that proclamation of the gospel is the commission of the church. The Evangelical movement represents one thread of Christianity in which this vocation is taken seriously--or at least that is the idea.

The problem we run into, however, is how exactly do we proclaim the Word of God? Is it some sort of announcement, like your run of the mill "wedding announcement"? Or is it a deeper and more complex ordeal, in which we labor strenuously over every detail in the hope to make sure that the message is completely right?

These questions, and many like them, have presented great difficulty to many theologians throughout history.

Add to these questions the modern situation and one has quite the quagmire. The questions from Bonhoeffer above represent just how difficult this situation is. Indeed, how does one speak of God in a secular fashion in a world that has lost its understanding of "God"?

That is the situation every Christian must be aware of in the act of proclamation.

Some refuse to acknowledge how serious this situation is. The attempt to call people back to a neglected God--or more popularly, the effort to bring America back to its Christian roots--is one among many attempts to speak about God in the modern context. The problem is that these approaches don't focus on our language or the audience to which our proclamation is directed--they would much rather shift us back to some former time when everyone understood what one meant with God.

There are many reasons to reject this maneuver. One reason why is that I am not sure if there was ever a historical context where that was the case--which is why recent efforts to reclaim the past are flawed from their very premise--and so it must be our duty to reassess our language and how it is used in a secular world.

There are those who will take this as their opportunity to engage in deep research and analysis. The hope here is that by doing careful research into the modern context that we can offer up a theological language which would be relevant and engaging to a modern audience.

I am not so sure that can work.

One, it will take too much time. Two, no amount of research can ever get us to the point where we can guarantee that our words are truly Gods words to a secular world. Three, ministry is something we have to do right now--the world cannot wait for us to get it together, we have to be ready right now. Of course, none of this means that if we don't get it right now, there is no going back. I don't believe that.

Ministry is about being prepared and unprepared, not one over the other.

I believe that, while we need preparation, we need to learn the truth of not relying on it to aid us in proclamation. We need an open spirit, freely aware of the presence of God, so that we do not fall into the trap of thinking that preaching the gospel is as simple as being well-prepared. (Evangelicals have yet to realize that the biggest problem with evangelism is not our motivations to preach the gospel but that techniques and methods are completely contrary to the force of the gospel).

This is why my first post in this series began with prayer (and then was followed by a post on revelation). Practicing our first language, the language we share with all humans, prepares us for the task of proclamation. It not only opens us up to the Word of God but it allows us to fine tune a language that all people share. So we have to preach; we have to proclaim. Our problem has been how to do that in the true sense--in the sense that our words align themselves with God's. Prayer is our natural first step.

But we must add some words of caution, to buffer ourselves from the frustrations of disappointment:

One--your words are not God's Words unless the Spirit deems it so.

Two--people will not listen and they will refuse to accept the gospel through your words, even if they are used by the Spirit. Expect to be disappointed, but always hope that everyone can and will hear you out. This will carry you very far.

Three--don't let the mystery of proclamation force you to domesticate God. What does this mean? Well, to give you an example, when preachers try to explain God and define the Truth, they get more consumed by the human tendency to dispel mystery than maintain it. Have faith, God's Word will arrive, in God's own way.

Four--carry on the task of proclamation even when you know that your words do not feel inspired. The great thing is the Spirit can use your words even when it has been days--even months, years--since you preached.

Five--the Spirit can take your words and use them for purposes you did not intend. (Don't worry, this happens more often than not. It is actually quite beautiful and takes a lot of pressure off of "getting it right")

Six--if you think preaching doctrine is tantamount to preaching the gospel. You're wrong. And I don't even have to state why that is the case. It just is.

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Before I end this post I want to make one final and most important point: Preaching the gospel is more about preaching a who than a what.

Yeah, yeah. I know. We can't just let the gospel be anything we want. So we do need to talk about what the gospel is from time to time. But we do that only to check ourselves--our motivations, our deceptions and what not. We do not do that to check the gospel itself.

The gospel is Jesus Christ. Plain and simple. That is who the gospel is about. It has been settled. No need for excessive doctrines, nor endless debates about what the gospel really is. That has already been established in the person of Christ. We proclaim the gospel as Jesus Christ simply because Jesus did so of himself (Mk. 1:15).

It is always going to be true that the gospel is a mystery (the Resurrection itself is evidence of that fact). (Mk. 4:11). That is how the disciples received it--they were not given complete understanding. All they knew was that this Jesus was the Christ, the gospel in their midst (Mk. 8:29). But even they got caught in the dangerous trap of trying to assume that they could define the gospel on their own terms, even when they had just admitted to Jesus' face that He was the Christ (read Mk. 8:31-33).

Point is: we can't define the gospel.

We have to let the gospel be what it truly is--Jesus Christ. Our job is to proclaim that very fact. It is our commission, our whole reason for being, our whole reason for following Christ.

We do not question the gospel. We do not settle the gospel. We do not monopolize the gospel. We do not make money off of the gospel.

We proclaim it.

And we proclaim it again.

And again. And again. And again.

Why is that?

The answer to that will have to wait until the next post in our series on "Mission".

What History Can Teach Us About Wealth and Economics

2011-04-05T15:40:00.007-04:00

There is an adage, one which I have forgot, that says something to the effect: "you can learn a lot about the present by looking to the past". I don't if that means the past predicts the present (as in "history repeats itself") or that the past provides fodder for present discussion. I guess I prefer the latter interpretation because, in reading The Historical Jesus by John Dominic Crossan, I have stumbled upon the work of Thomas Carney which I think has done a profound job of contrasting ancient and modern societies. I won't go too far into the details but I wish to highlight one passage which I found intriguing. In speaking of ancient pursuits of wealth, Carney has this to say:

Wealth was just as avariciously sought as in any capitalist society, but on a 'seize or squeeze' principle, not by generating it through increased production. Capital was formed in iniquity by taking it from someone else, either as booty in war or as taxes squeezed out a toiling peasant population...The case for entrepreneurialism was...never articulated in antiquity...Preindustrial society did not in face produce a body of economic thought" (qtd. in Crossan, 51).

A couple of things strike me in this passage. One, the contrast between an ancient society, built on seize or squeeze, and a modern, capitalist society, built upon production, while true, seems to be slowly breaking down here in the U.S. Now, I am no economist, but I do know that current trends in our economical system have shifted somewhat from an economy of production to one resembling the ancient squeeze and seize that Carney talks about. This leads me to the second point I wish to highlight in this passage, namely, that in ancient societies there really was no such thing as "economics". As some know, the word "economics" comes from the Greek, meaning "household management". Economy, when appliead to any nation or organized state, represents the totality of production whithin that nation or state, or, if you prefer, that "household". In ancient societies economics did not truly apply to the whole household, however. Ancient economics is really about a special class of people obtaining wealth, not through production, as noted above, but by taking it from someone else. Crossan calls ancient economics an anti-economic because, as Carney points out, there really was no thought as to the production and distribution of goods among the people. Sure they had a commercial soceity, wherein trade was a regular occurence. Yet the reason Crossan calls it an "anti-economic" is that wealth only pertained to the ruler's domain. This is why no ancient philosopher or political thinker concerned himself with economics. It simply did not exist; that is, at a truly "economic" level. I find this last point appealing because I think it tells us a lot about modern economics, specifically concerning our economic rhetoric. Indeed, perhaps one of the reasons we have so much difficulty understanding modern economics--how it works, and what we can do to improve it--is that our rhetoric belongs to a modern society but yet our practice resembles more of an ancient anti-economics. I am not saying that is the sole problem involved in modern economics--because I believe there is much more to it than that--but I do think it sheds some light on why there is so much confusion. Thoughts?

Reflections on My First Year as a "Youth" Minister: Part 1

2011-04-04T12:43:00.003-04:00

I used to say to myself that I would never blog about my job as a youth minister because I felt that would not force me to engage myself with other issues. I have now learned that it is very difficult to write on subjects outside of my ministry because, well, I really don't have the time to properly engage them. (If you are following my other series called "godSPEAK"--which you doubtfully are--then you know that it is difficult for me to write blogs in a timely manner).

At any rate, it has been more than 6 months since I began my first job as a "youth" minister. I put "youth" in quotes because that is what church culture, in its overly specialized and compartmentalized mentality, has done for me. Personally, I consider myself a minister (just like any other Christian) who has taken on the role of pastoring/shepherding (something only leaders in the church do). I don't define my ministry by whom I minister to because, if you know anything about any type of ministry in the church, you are never confined to just one area.

For instance, people call me a "youth minister" with the implication that I only minister to youth. That is wrong. Absolutely wrong. Youth ministers, no matter what church or ministry they serve in, never solely minister to youth. They have parents and adult volunteers to minister to as well. So you have to take the title "youth minister" with a grain of salt, especially when you use it in reference to me.

In my first year, which is always the craziest until one gets used to how a ministry and its church operates and functions, I have come to realize several things about youth ministry.

One, programming takes the most time but does very little in helping youth grow in their faith. Yeah, I know, you cannot have a good ministry without good organization. I am not debating that. I know many youth ministers who do absolutely no programming or spend little time with organization because it "distracts us from relationships". I think that is just lazy and misguided. You need programs, but they do not do ministry for you. I think many people will agree with this conclusion. I mean, it is hard not to, right? Programs take a lot of time (as they need to) but it is in those unplanned times, before or after the lesson, that I find ministry occurs the most often. Furthermore, I do not think that the whole binary of programs vs. relationships in ministry is appropriate. Neither are the basis of ministry because only Christ, through His Advocate, the Holy Spirit, is. Programs vs. Relationships therefore is a false dichotomy and a very misguided way of viewing ministry at any level. So are any other labels, such as, "organic", "missional", "intentional", "biblical", "purpose-driven","prophetic", "simple", and so on (in case you are wondering, those have all been proposed at some point). A ministry is defined by Christ. Period.

Two, a youth ministry is only truly a "youth" ministry when youth define, create, implement and practice ministry. Faith, Paul says in Romans 10:17, comes through hearing the gospel, but growth and maturity come about by practice because a faith without works is dead (James 2:20). The goal and focus of every youth ministry is that the students become the ministers. Obviously, adults will still need to minister to youth, especially in the difficult times. But, overall, the ministry should be defined by what its youth do, not its adults. If churches started looking at this to determine a ministry's success rather than numbers, the life of the church would be so much more abundant and worthwhile for all its members.

Three, spiritual development does not happen in a vacuum but it also does not occur via methods or formulas. We all want our youth to grow up in their faith, to mature in their relationship with Christ (1 Cor. 3:2; Heb. 5:12), but no program or method will guarantee any of this. I chuckle every time I hear of a youth minister who has broken down the ministry and structured it so that from 7th grade to the time they graduate students have lessons, teachings and curricula that coincide with their human/spiritual development. I always want to ask, what happens if somebody becomes a Christian when they are a senior in high school, does that mean they have to be grouped with the 7th graders since that is the way you have structured your youth program? Let's face it: spiritual development is really a misnomer, if we think of it in terms of basing one's spirituality on one's human development. Don't get me wrong: I do think all things are connected, but in my experience I have seen too many 7th graders well beyond their years and far too many high school graduates well below theirs to ever believe that basing lessons and teachings on the year of students will ever truly work. This also, in my mind, gives a false impression of what church life is really like. We always have a mixture of different maturity levels in faith within the church; that is what makes the church the church. It's a challenging yet beautiful thing. We need the mixture; we need the diversity. Otherwise, our programs mimic current public education programs, which, last time I checked, are not that successful in America.

Four, you need grace, lots of grace, to make any ministry viable. You need forgiveness in the plenty. You need mercy always in reserve. And you need love greeting each student at the door and going out with them when they leave. Grace is what makes a ministry. It is that simple, yet so difficult to come by.

Those are my "realizations" for now. At some point in the future, I will probably add to this list.

Let me know your thoughts, if you have any.

Reviewing the Book Reviews of Rob Bell's "Love Wins"

2011-03-15T14:19:00.001-04:00

I am sure there are going to be many book reviews of Rob Bell's "Love Wins: A Book About Heaven, Hell and the Fate of Every Person Who Has Ever Lived" in the next couple of weeks. (Already, on the day that it was released, we have several popping up every hour)

I will not be one of them.

I tend to distrust early reviews, even ones by people who have received the book much earlier than everyone else.

Why?

Well, for lots of reasons, but mostly because there simply is not enough time to engage all of the issues with gravitas and insightful analysis if you have not had the time to let a book's idea or message to sink in (even if it is one you know you already disagree with). Our culture, and its people, are too addicted to quick and easy publishing as it is--which is easily demonstrated by what people write on their Facebook or Twitter pages--that it is about time we became a little more patient with how we import and export information.

So instead of posting a review of Rob Bell's book, I am going to look more at how people review it. Lest you get the impression that I have some hidden motivation for why I will take people to task for their hasty and un-insightful reviews, let it be known: I don't take sides. I am not on Rob Bell's side. Nor am I on the other side. This is not grade school recess, I don't care who is on my team or how good we are--so please, let's leave behind the childish pretensions and move onto maturity.

I think it is important to consider these reviews because I think that, in a world where information is so easily accessible, we need to understand what a book review really is.

Here are my conclusions, or "rules for good book reviews", if you will:

A book review should help someone who has never read the book understand where the author is coming from, what is being argued, how it is argued, what the context for the book is, and whether or not it accomplishes its thesis.

A book review is not the place for raising disputes, be they philosophical, theological, or political--even if the book itself is based on a dispute or its claims will most certainly raise disputes. We are not reading the review to get your opinions about certain issues, we are reading your review to get an opinion of the book.

Brevity is key. If it takes you more than 2,000 words, you have not done your job in writing a book review. What you have done is written another book (about another book, oddly enough).

Refrain from grades or some type of rubric (scale of 1 t0 10)for measuring the books worth

Do not merely point out what is good and what is bad about a book. That gives you the appearance of being fair in your assessment of a book, but it does not mean that you actually are. While you should consider the positives and negatives of any book--because they all have them--your job is to articulate what the book is about not run a beauty contest. I only want to hear what is good if it helps me get a better idea of what the book is about. Similarly, I only want to hear what is bad about a book if it does not carry out its thesis or there is something that the author could expand upon.

Those are the 5 things I look for in a book review. I am sure others would add others or expand upon the ones I have listed.

Here are some examples of poor book reviews of Rob Bell's book. (Please remember: I am not evaluating them based upon who the reviewer is and my personal differences with them theologically or philosophically. I am merely pointing out why they are poorly done. )

1. This review is by Kevin DeYoung over at the Gospel Coalition. Obviously, just looking at its length, it ignores rule #3 above. That either signals bad writing or an indication that the other rules have been broken as well. In this case, it is the latter. DeYoung breaks all of the rules except rule #4. To be fair, DeYoung has his moments where he does some good analysis. The only problem is that if I was a person who had not read the book, I would not be able to follow and engage his analysis responsibly. He quotes the book quite frequently (which is good) but an outsider would not be able to evaluate his analysis because they have not read the book to get the original context to see if the reviewer's analysis is correct. In that case, the reader either has to accept everything DeYoung has to say or dismiss it entirely.

2. This review is by Mark Galli over at Christianity Today. This is a much better review than DeYoung's because it breaks far less of the rules listed above. Its problem is that it tries so hard not to break rule #5 that it it comes off as insipid and a waste of the reader's time. For sure, it attempts to situate the book in a larger theological/historical context. Doing so, however, does more to distract from what the book is about. It also teases with breaking rule #2 because it tries to clothe the book in epithets, like "liberal", that are obviously contentious. Unless Rob Bell identifies and places himself in the tradition of "theological liberalism", I think it is inappropriate to label him that way.

Worship: Contemporary vs. Traditional

2011-03-14T18:16:00.005-04:00

Interesting interview here over at Christianity Today about worship trends with T. David Gordon, a professor at Grove City College.

I must say, even though I attend mostly contemporary services, I appreciate all of his concerns in lieu of the perpetual war over worship styles that has plagued the church for many years. His argument is simple: the proliferation of pop music is the reason why contemporary worship music has become so prevalent in recent years. Not only is it prevalent but he makes the startling (to some) and refreshing (to others) conclusion that the reason why people prefer contemporary worship music is because they "don't know any better". In other words, they have been fed on pop music so long that they can no longer consider anything "music" other than something that sounds pop-ish.

That about sums about my frustrations with contemporary worship music.