Some good reasons to click away from this blog

Scot McKnight discusses the various "impulses" driving the emerging movement, which functions for me as a (finally!) much-needed explanation of what it's all about. It probably helps that he acknowledges not speaking for anyone else - he can let the cat out of the bag, but it's only his "opinion." Oh, and he discusses the relationship between the emerging movement and creedal orthodoxy.

In related news, Earl Creps takes a look at whether EmChurch is a sectarian movement or the Reformational movement that was hoped for a few years ago. Among other things, Earl discusses "the drag of the practical" - that it's harder to implement ideas than it is to theorize in the abstract. So "postmodern vs. modern" may largely boil down to "youthful idealism vs. mature realism." I remember my days of thinking I was going to reform the Church as well.

Just in case there's someone here who doesn'talready read Pastor Bob's blog, he's currently doing a series on the will of God. So far it's been mainly Bible, Bible, Bible, but I'm hoping at some point he'll give us Seven Surefire Steps, which will include donating to his ministry for a blessed Magic 8 Ball.

Also, for those of you who use blog services (like Blogger) that don't use trackback, there's a Manual Trackback Pinger that will let you leave trackbacks on sites that do use trackback. I use this frequently.

Emerging Creedalism?

Scot McKnight makes an appeal for use of the historic creeds of Christendom as a means of defining the faith. The purpose is ecumenical--to unite behind what the church has always believed and what all Christians can affirm, rather than to make a more narrow sectarian definition that defines other believers out. He compares the Nicene Creed, a fundamentalist church statement of faith, an evangelical church statement of faith, and the statement of faith of the church founded by Brian McLaren.

I applaud the impulse behind this appeal. It is good for us to find something in our history which we can agree on and by which we can identify other Christians, regardless of theological differences. On an individual level, and even in informal community life, this may be positive and even sufficient. Unfortunately, I think Scot ignores the realities of creedal development, of subsequent history, and of the purpose and use of church statements of faith.

Scot puts forward the Nicene Creed as a model of simplicity and a statement of basic orthodoxy. He also acknowledges that it is the earliest of the classical creeds he would choose, others being Chalcedon or Nicean-Constantinopolitan. This implicitly acknowledges that even in the church of that time, the Nicene creed was not felt to be sufficient. Creedal development could and did go on, because the impetus behind all the creeds--theological developments that were felt by some to be outside the bounds of scriptural warrant--continued to occur. The creeds were always about "defining others out," whether those others were Docetists or Arians or Monophysites or whatever. Even the choice of which creed to use is a choice regarding

The attempt to go back to a historic creed also seems to ignore or deny all further theological development. If issues have not yet been raised in the church, then of course they need not be addressed in our statements of faith. Once they have been raised, however, there is a tendency to want to bury our heads in the sand and ignore them. Can't we all just get along? We need to be clear about what we are doing here. If we are saying, "This is the core of the faith. I hold this in common with all other believers," then I am in full agreement. But if we are saying, "This is what I believe and all I believe; everything else is irrelevant," then I can't buy it. We all hold opinions about theological issues that have divided Christians throughout history (even if we hold them unconsciously, having been only exposed to one view). Leaving opinions unarticulated leads to a lack of self-awareness at best and dishonesty at worst.

This also touches on the purpose and use of local church and denominational statements of faith. Most of these statements do not presume to say, "One must believe this in order to be a Christian." Most of them, rather, exist to make clear the position and reason for existence of a particular body of believers. "This is who we are, this is where we are at, this is why we worship the way we worship and teach the way we teach." The splintering of the Church Universal is, of course, a Bad Thing, but it is a fait accompli at this point, and the one positive element in it is allowing Christians of differing points of view to coexist as Christians - albeit with much less unity than one would like - rather than the earlier case of excommunicating one another when we understand scripture differently. So differerent groups should be able to explain what their differences are - in fact, I'd argue, have a duty to do so, so that someone coming into the group can avoid being blindsided by hidden presuppositions.

So, again, the creeds are good to identify how we can accept one another in the Faith, but not good as an expression of full 21st century theological understanding. Some have argued that we shouldn't be wedded to a 16th century theology; it doesn't help to be wedded to a 4th century theology instead.

Bono and Bill Hybels on RedBlueChristian

RedBlueChristian has an interesting post containing part of an interview of Bono by Bill Hybels.

Emerging Pentecostalism?

Earl Creps weighs in on why Pentecostals haven't been much a part of the emerging "conversation," and whether they can be, in this interesting post.

At least as interesting, however, is the response he invited from sociologist Adam Long. Long appears to be somewhat skeptical of the EmChurch movement, or at least the claims of some of its leaders regarding its origins and purpose. His point #4 is particularly interesting--in this day and age, is pretending not to market the best marketing tool of all?

Is There Any There There? Modernism and Postmodernism

[There was a time when] the humans still knew pretty well when a thing was proved and when it was not; and when it was proved they really believed it. . . . But what with the weekly press and other such weapons, we have largely altered that. Your man has been accustomed, ever since he was a boy, to having a dozen incompatible philosophies dancing about together inside his head. . . . Don't waste time trying to make him think that materialism is true! Make him think it is strong or stark or courageous--that it is the philosophy of the future.

--Screwtape

I first came across the terms modernism and postmodernism while in pursuit of a degree in English literature at a secular university. That, it seems to me, should have been a reasonably good introduction, considering the fact that these terms originated in the study of literature, and one of the major proponents of a postmodern approach to the church--Brian McLaren--appeals to his literature background in his views and interpretations of Scripture. I write "should have been," because in reencountering these terms twenty years later in the context of the emerging church movement, I barely recognize them.

In literature, "modernism" was a literary movement characterized by people like James Joyce, T S Eliot, Virginia Woolf, and later, William Faulkner. It was characterized by experimentation with literary forms and conventions, multiple points of view, nonchronological development, and lack of transitional or explanatory matter to clarify what is going on. Some of these are among my favorite writers; I love this kind of literary experimentation--finding a way to tell a story in a new and fresh way. There are, of course, other points of view; I believe it was Graham Greene who simply thought that James Joyce had gone stark raving mad halfway through Ulysses.

Postmodernism was simply a catch-all term for the writers who had come after the Modernists, most of whom in some way responded to or built upon what the Modernists had done. Some like John Barth went further and abandoned any sort of pretense to narrative storytelling at all. Many were influenced by French Existentialism, with its rejection of objective truth--meaning is something for individuals to construct for themselves out of an absurd universe. Other, more philosophical issues entered into the study of literature (this is distinct from the production of literature itself), culminating with Jacques Derrida and deconstruction theory, which in a nutshell, meant that there could be no inherent meaning to any text, only the meanings that arose from the encounter of the reader's matrix of understanding with the text. (It may be argued here that I have only a superficial and faulty understanding of the issues involved with literary postmodernism. This may be so--I am much more interested in literature itself than in various theories on its interpretation--but as will be seen, that actually should not matter in the discussion of the emerging church.)

When I read these terms in the context of the emerging church, they take on entirely different meanings. Modernism and postmodernism are supposed to be two different cultures, the first waning, the second taking shape in reaction to the first. Those who identify with postmodern culture are resolutely against defining the characteristics of that culture (the attempt to do so being dismissed as "modern"). They don't appear to have any problem defining the culture they are rejecting, however. "Modernism" is used synonymously with "modernity" and appears to be associated with rational and logical thought; it's sometimes characterized as "Enlightenment thinking," as though Aristotle knew nothing of logic and Plato's dialogues had nothing to do with reason. This is not to say that postmodern thought is irrational, but there is much more focus on understanding through narrative, as opposed to understanding through propositions and syllogistic reasoning. "Modernism" is also viewed as individualistic and associated with a consumer mentality. Postmodernism, by contrast, is supposed to be more relational, more interested in community, and opposed to consumerism. It has some relationship to youth culture, which is why it shouldn't matter whether I have a perfect understanding of Derrida, literary postmodernism, or deconstruction: most of those who identify with the postmodern movement don't, either.

What is my point? (How modernist of you to ask!) Only this: I think there is something going on among those who view themselves as emerging or postmodern, but I don't know if it's anything nearly so earth-shattering as its proponents want to make out. As a matter of fact, I think we've seen something like this before. Wasn't the '60s counterculture supposed to be a new way of life, emerging from the ashes of the surrounding larger culture? Wasn't it supposed to be a rejection of the money grubbing rat race? A new Age of Aquarius, full of peace and harmony? While the '60s have had a significant impact on culture--largely in terms of music and social/sexual mores--much of the more radical aspects of the movement petered out. So let's be careful before we abandon too much in the race to be "relevant" to the brave new postmodern world. Especially, let's be careful in the area of Biblical interpretation. Liberal theology was predicated on the perceived necessity to make the Bible "relevant to modern man." The result: the denominations that adopted that theological approach have withered. Let's not make that mistake again.

Turtles All the Way Down Scot McKnight's Critique of Heretic's Guide to Eternity

I knew I loved Scot McKnight for a reason.

Scot has been doing one of his many book review series, this one on A Heretic's Guide to Eternity by Spencer Burke of TheOoze.com. The series is worth reading throughout. My own reason for linking to it and commenting at this time has less to do with the actual critique of the book than what Scot writes about the emerging movement as a whole. Scot is associated with the movement, links to many of its leaders, and has a "friend of Emergent" button on his blog, so he's anything but a knee-jerk, uncomprehending rejector of the movement. I have wanted to write about postmodernism and the emerging movement for a while, but haven't felt that I understood it enough to comment. Scot is, however, not in that position. This is what he says--and it's worth noting that he prefaces his comments in this way he does:

I have to say the following — and I don’t do so with anything but sadness.

The emerging movement is proud of creating a safe environment for people to think and to express their doubts. Partly because of what I do for a living (teach college students), I am sympathetic to the need for such safe environments. But, having said that, the emerging movement has also been criticized over and over for not having any boundaries. Frankly, some of the criticism is justified. I want to express my dismay today over what I think is crossing the boundaries.

What Scot means by "boundaries" is a defining limit to how far one can go and still remain within Christianity. Burke rejects the personhood of God and the necessity of coming to God through Christ; he also argues essentially that everyone is born saved, although it is possible to "opt out" and send yourself to hell. People whose native culture is centered on another religion do not have to convert to Christianity to be saved. (Burke told Scot on the phone that he believes that it is because of Jesus' death and resurrection that people are included in God's grace from birth, but he doesn't say so in the book.)

The issue here is simply, how far may one go in expressing one's doubts, and still claim to be a Christian? Is there a "bottom line" to what it means to be a Christian, or, as the old joke goes, is it "turtles all the way down"? It seems to me to be self-evident that if there is no basic core of belief that is necessary to orthodoxy, then there is no such thing as Christianity at all.

Andrew Jackson on SmartChristian.com correctly observes that "No one should use Burke to condemn everyone in the Emergent movement." However, I don't see Scot as doing that. One of the problems that outsiders like me have in trying to comprehend the movement is that people who critique the movement (e.g., Donald Carson) are dismissed as not understanding it; when people ask questions to try to understand it, people in the movement refuse to "define themselves"; and when individuals within the movement are quoted in order to discuss their ideas, it is responded that "they don't speak for the whole movement." So how is one supposed to grasp or interact with it?

The emerging "conversation" is said to be a "safe environment for people to think and to express their doubts." All well and good; my own experience tells me that if you are free to doubt--honestly doubt--you can come back with a stronger faith than ever. But my suspicion is that "doubt" is all too often merely a code-word to mean rejection. Is the emerging conversation also a safe environment for people to think and express their beliefs? Is there any positive content to the emerging conversation? Or is it all simply rejection? Enquiring minds want to know.

Individualism Redux

My original post about individualism was largely a response to David Fitch's first post on Out of Ur regarding expository preaching. Fitch has since published parts two and three of that series. In my post, I wrote:

I await his next installment to find out how he believes some other type of preaching would fare better, or how any type of preaching at all can be received by anyone other than individuals.

Fitch makes a reasonable attempt to provide a positive alternative, but it seems to me that he makes a distinction without a meaningful difference.

In part two, Fitch argues for imaginative proclamation as opposed to exegesis. Why these two things need be opposed is anyone's guess. Fitch disparages the work of the pastor exegeting the Greek text, calling it "hubris," and writes that the pastor should recognize that his own "brilliance" should not be substituted for the work of "thousands that have gone before." But how the pastor should choose from among the streams of traditions that exist, Fitch doesn't say. Where the imaginative proclamation, the "alternative interpretation of the way things are," comes from, Fitch doesn't tell us. He seems to assume that there is an already-agreed-upon reality to which we can appeal for our proclamation. With regard to some passages and issues, that may be true; with regard to some, it isn't. But if the proclamation isn't drawn out (exegeted) from the Word, then where is it coming from, and why should the congregation view it as authoritative? One of the reasons Fitch denigrates expository preaching is because the listener (or the pastor) hear (or read) their own meanings into the text; but if they do not even attempt to exegete the text, how can they possibly avoid this pitfall? One may as well argue, "It's dangerous to walk this path if you don't have good vision; better to shut your eyes altogether."

I come from a church tradition that favors emotional preaching over expository teaching. I get the impression that Fitch comes from the opposite: one in which dry exposition of the text is the norm. Both extremes are bad: emotional preaching has no anchor and dry exposition cannot sail. There's nothing wrong with imaginative proclamation with solid exegetical study to ground it.

In part three, Fitch attempts to argue for liturgical response as opposed to individual application. I have no problem with liturgical response, although in my experience it tends to become dead formalism for those who have practiced it for a long time. It reminds me of my wife's story of how, growing up Catholic, she asked her catechism instructor, "Why do we put ashes on our heads on Ash Wednesday?" "Because we're Catholic!" was the response she was given. She had to come into another church tradition and read scripture about repenting in sackcloth and ashes before she had any more understanding.

The problem with liturgical response is that it only lasts as long as the service lasts. Yes, it gives the appearance of responding as a community rather than as individuals, but when we leave church, we need to live out the gospel. Individual application points have their own problem: there's a pressure on the pastor to "be relevant"; i.e., to reach for applications that are "practical," that touch on people's perceived needs. The end result is to "use" the gospel to repair one's marriage, get one's finances in order, do one's work more efficiently, and raise one's children more effectively. The challenge--and this is where Fitch is right--is to reorient one's life to be centered on Christ. It's not to make the gospel relevant to our lives; it's to make our lives relevant to the gospel. Imaginative proclamation--being able to see oneself in another type of existence--is certainly valuable here; but I don't see why it needs to be opposed to exposition.

The Mystery of the Missing Men; or, Where the Boys Are--Not!

It seems to be a new cause du jour: the lack of men in the church, the reasons Why Men Hate Going to Church, and the so-called feminization of evangelical Christianity. David Wayne on Jollyblogger has a list of recent articles about the subject. Some are little more than chest-thumping affirmations of David Murrow's above-referenced book, but there are also those that have a bit more substance.

Among these, Holly Pivec's article, "The Feminization of the Church," notes that the issue is not new--dating back to the Industrial Revolution, according to some theories, or the 13th century, according to others. She cites statistics such as that 57% of evangelicals are women--which seems to me a little less dire than the rhetoric makes out; this means that 43% of evangelicals are men--but also that women are more involved in ancillary ministries of the church than are men. She also notes that worship styles tend toward romantic imagery, service opportunities tend toward traditionally female roles, pastors may be tailoring their messages to their already predominantly female audience, and the ministry itself may be attracting men who exhibit traditionally "feminine" qualities such as gentleness and sensitivity.

I'll confess to not yet having read Murrow's book or any others specifically on the issue. I have mixed feeling-- er, thoughts, yeah, thoughts, on the articles and blogs I have read. I think some points regarding modern worship music are valid, and decor to some extent as well. On the other hand, I've seen some silly stuff trying to show how "manly" Jesus was (mainly by focusing on the confrontation with the money changers and the woes against the Pharisees). And some presentations of the topic appear to be an attempt to repackage the church to target a male demographic, which is another example of the commodification of the Gospel. At any rate, why men say they stay out of church is not necessarily why they actually do. Never underestimate the ability of anyone--particularly men--to rationalize and excuse their behavior. Ask anyone why they stay out of church, and I guarantee you, they'll tell you it's the church's fault.

What disturbs me most of all is the stereotype of masculinity that much of this stuff promotes. I reject categorically the idea that such qualities as kindness and nuturing are inherently "female" and such qualities as aggressiveness and competition are inherently "male." I imagine that the movie Mean Girls (though I haven't seen it) should quell all such ideas. Besides, I'd assert that men are, for example, nurturing--but there is a specifically masculine way to express nurturing. For mothers, it may be kissing boo-boos; for fathers, it's protectiveness and provision. What's more nurturing than providing for a family?

An excellent adverse response to this trend is given by Sean Michael Lucas, who notes that "throughout the history of Christianity from the very beginning, women have had key places in the church and tended to outnumber the men," and asks the very pertinent question,

Could it be that Christianity preaches a Gospel that requires people to view themselves as weak, forsaken, helpless, abandoned, destitute? Could it be that such a message is a stumbling block to males who believe they have strength in themselves to save themselves?

In other words, it might not be how we're presenting Christianity, but Christianity itself that tends to put off men (as it tends to put off the powerful, the intellectual, the aristocratic--cf. 1 Corinthians 1:20-21, 26-29). Lucas also points to the intellectual vacuity of the church (what Pivec calls "touchy-feely pastors giving touchy-feely sermons"). A primarily emotional gospel that is light in intellectual rigor is, on average, going to attract more women than men. (Yes, yes, there are intellectually tough women and emotionally motivated men--I realize this is an extremely broad generalization--but it might help account for a fourteen-percent gap.)

Lucas finally brings home a telling point:

I think another reason some men "hate going to church" is, ironically enough, most of our churches have failed to preach the Gospel. I don't mean the Gospel of "Jesus dying for my sins." But I mean the Gospel--an all-encompassing vision of God's invasion into the world to bring his reign to bear on every aspect of life.

Men are more motivated by mission than by the idea that Jesus really loves you and wants to wrap his arms all around you.

Rilstone on Superman

Andrew Rilstone has a good post on the "Christian symbolism" of the recent Superman movie. A brief excerpt:

Spider-Man, Frodo Baggins, Neo, Leo DeCaprio, Indiana Jones – Hollywood turns all its heroes into Christian symbols. (All except Aslan, obviously.) But do the symbols actually symbolize anything?

Good point. Except that I think Tolkien actually meant for Frodo to be a type of Christ (Gandalf and Aragorn too), no matter what he said about allegory. But for the rest--I think we need to examine what it means for Christian imagery and symbolism to be bestowed on characters who are eminently unworthy of it.

"Salt" and "Light" An Exercise in Biblical Allegory

Jesus' metaphorical use of salt and light to describe his disciples in Matthew 5:13-16 is one of the most familiar illustrations in scripture. It is also one of the most mishandled in interpretation, especially in interactive teaching settings. The usual procedure, often spelled out in Sunday school and youth group curricula, is for the participants to offer as many different properties and uses of salt and light as they can think of, then to find a "spiritual application" by way of analogy to each of these properties and uses. The leader is then to encourage the group to exhibit those applications in their own lives.

The problem with this type of interpretation, which amounts to allegorizing, is twofold. First, there is no control on the interpretations allowable. It is usually brought up that salt flavors food, acts as a preservative, was a valuable commodity, etc. But since there is no control--i.e., any property of salt is allowable--we may presumably find a "spiritual application" for the fact that salt is a stable crystalline compound, composed of the two highly reactive elements sodium and chlorine. Light illuminates darkness, makes vision possible, creates heat, etc.; we may again attempt to find a spiritual application for the fact that light acts both as a wave and a particle, and travels in a vacuum at a constant speed of about 186,000 miles per second. It may be objected that during Jesus' lifetime such scientific facts were unknown, but surely divine intelligence knew them when putting the metaphors in the Bible and knew that twenty centuries later we would learn them. At any rate, although such obscure facts usually do not come up in the context of an informal Bible study, the point is that there is nothing in the method to exclude them, precisely because the implied assumption is that everything about salt and light is somehow analogous to some aspect of the Christian life.

This brings us to the second problem with this type of interpretation: it ignores what the author (and in this case the speaker, Jesus) intended by the images used. It is not apparent, or even intrinsically likely, that Jesus meant that his disciples were similar to salt or light in every possible respect. Analogies normally resemble their objects in only one respect, or in a limited range of respects; usually the relationship is made clear by the context of the analogy itself. Therefore, the proper goal of interpretation in this case should be to discover in what way or ways Jesus' disciples are similar to salt and light. This is a point unfortunately lost even in some excellent commentaries.[1]

The first thing that should be noticed is that the examples are parallel. After the analogy itself is made, the point made about both of them is that they can be made ineffectual, and lose any benefit that they may otherwise offer. Therefore, the most reasonable assumption we may make is that both of these analogies are being used to illustrate a single point. If then salt and light are analogous to us in a similar way, they would therefore be similarly analogous to each other. This immediately precludes most of the interpretations we may make based on the properties or uses of light or salt individually--for these two substances are distinctly dissimilar to one another. Jesus is making a single point in these verses, reinforced by using two analogies, but a single point is being made.

That single point is evident by what is done with the analogies: in both cases, the useful property of the element involved is lost or made ineffectual. In verse 13, the salt "loses its saltiness"; in verse 14, the possibility of the lamp being lit and "put under a bowl" is envisioned (in the form of a rejection). Therefore, whatever it is that salt and light do, there are situations in which they are prevented from doing it. That is the point: believers can become ineffectual in this world, and Jesus is warning them against it.

In the case of the salt, losing its saltiness makes it worthless (v. 13). Nothing can be done with it; it can only be disposed of. "How can it be made salty again?" is a rhetorical question; there is no answer. The point is that unsalty salt is useless to anyone--therefore precautions were taken to protect salt from humidity, which would leech it out.[2] Putting a lamp under a bowl (v. 15) similarly makes it useless. No one can benefit from the light of a covered lamp. But everyone benefits from a lamp "on its stand" that "gives light to everyone in the house." It is for this reason--the common need for light--that "a city on a hill cannot be hidden." Jesus goes on in verse 16 to apply the analogy directly to his disciples: "let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven."

Herein lies the key to both analogies: letting one's light shine before people somehow involves letting them see one's good works--not in the ostentatious manner of the Pharisees (cf. Matt. 6:1-18), but in a way that gives glory to the Father in heaven. That is, what we are as believers--the fact that we are believers, and what that means in terms of what God is doing in our lives--must come out, find expression in our daily lives. This shouldn't have to be forced, but should be natural--as natural as a lamp being placed where it gives light, or salt being salty. Yet there is a danger that this will not be the case--else Jesus' warning loses its import.

If there is a difference in Jesus' handling of the two analogies, it would be that while the salt is actually lost, the lamp is only covered (although a covered flame, starved for oxygen, would presumably go out soon enough). Jesus may be saying that a disciple's testimony can be made ineffectual either by assimilation to the world (the salt losing its saltiness) or by hiding it from the world (the lamp covered by a bowl). But if such a distinction is made, it should be made on the basis of what Jesus actually does with the analogies, not on the basis of the intrinsic properties of salt and light themselves.

Examples of such overapplication of analogies are legion, and constitute a common fallacy in biblical interpretation. They have in some circumstances contributed to unbiblical Christian practice. One of the most common examples is that of "shepherd," applied (first metaphorically to Jesus) to Christian ministers. Everything that a shepherd does for his sheep is applied to the work of the pastor: feeding them, protecting them from enemies, leading them to water, etc. "Spiritual applications" can again be found for all of these aspects of shepherding. But careful study of how "shepherd" is used metaphorically in scripture indicates that it is used, in the Old Testament, never of the prophet and priest, but of the king; i.e., it is a leadership quality, not a prophetic and priestly one. In the New Testament, it is used primarily of leadership through teaching. Overapplying the shepherding analogy may be convenient for those parishioners who aren't interested in being anything but sheep, or for leaders who prefer to control every aspect of their people's lives, but it isn't biblical. It contributes to the overwork of pastors, the lack of responsible body ministry, and the general negligence of average Christians to grow into responsible positions of service.

In both academic and pastoral worlds, there is substantial pressure to come up with interpretations that are novel, creative, different. We want to pull out of a passage everything that may be gleaned from it. Unfortunately, we may at times overinterpret, discover meanings that were never intended by the writer, or the Holy Spirit. We need the discipline to distinguish between interpretations that are supported by the text and those that aren't.

---

Notes

[1] E.g., Carson, D.A., Matthew, in The Expositor's Bible Commentary, Vol. 8, ed. by Frank E. Gaebelein (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1984), p. 138-39.

[2] Salt could lose its saltiness if a cake of salt containing impurities had the actual salt leeched out by humidity (Carson, 138). This is relevant to the extent that it makes the image itself understandable to modern people, for whom salt losing its saltiness is not a common occurrence. It would not do, however, to spiritualize the impurities, the leeching process, etc.

You Got the Right One, Baby

Michael Lawrence (a fellow Gordon-Conwell grad!) writes an excellent piece on marriage, dating, and "choosing" a wife. A quick excerpt:

One of the myths out there is that if you just spend enough time searching, if you can just gather enough information, you'll find a woman with whom marriage will be "easy." The fact is, such a woman doesn't exist, and if she did, she likely wouldn't marry you.

I couldn't agree more.

The reality is that, apart from horrendous and usually obvious mistakes (marrying a nonbeliever is the most common), marriages are made or broken within the marriage, not because of marrying "the wrong person." Ever notice how nobody ever charges that their spouse married the wrong person? When I was at a point in my life that I refer to affectionately as, "single and not very happy about that fact," I had some time to ponder what everyone else seemed to be doing in their dating lives. It seemed to me that everyone was horrendously frightened of exactly the kind of commitment that I wanted, mostly because of the fear of ending up with "the wrong person." It also seemed to me that everyone was focusing on finding the "right person," but almost no one was seriously trying to become the "right person" for someone else. If we spent our time trying to become the "right person" for someone else--that is, trying to become the person God wants us to be in all areas of our lives--we could trust God to bring across our path someone else who was doing the same thing.

The real trick is recognizing that this process does not end at the wedding ceremony. We have to keep on becoming the person God wants us to be, and allow that process to work in our spouse's life as well. I'm convinced that God is in the process of making me right for my wife, and in the process of making her right for me--that that process began long before we met, and will continue for as long as we are on this earth.

Of course, it's possible that I just think that all this works because I found the right person....

For more on marriage, check out my book, Marriage, Family, and the Image of God .

Mildly Roused by Joy

I love the writings of C.S. Lewis. I enjoy the way in which he can use fictional situations to illustrate moral and spiritual truths (as in The Great Divorce or The Screwtape Letters) and the way in which he can begin with an unassuming, simple premise and build his argument into something overpowering and majestic (as in Miracles or Mere Christianity).

Lewis rarely disappoints, which makes it all the more notable when he does. Ever since I read his autobiographical Surprised by Joy, I've felt that the ending was unsatisfying. The passage I mean, on the last page of the book, is this:

But what, in conclusion, of Joy? for that, after all, is what the story has mainly been about. To tell you the truth, since I became a Christian, the subject has nearly lost all interest for me. . . . I now know that the experience, considered as a state of my own mind, had never had the kind of importance I once gave it. It was valuable only as a pointer to something other and outer. While that other was in doubt, the pointer naturally loomed large in my thoughts. When we are lost in the woods, the sight of a signpost is a great matter. He who first sees it cries, "Look!" The whole party gathers round and stares. But when we have found the road and are passing signposts every few miles, we shall not stop and stare. They will encourage us and we shall be grateful for the authority that set them up. But we shall not stop and stare, or not much; not on this road, though their pillars are of silver and their lettering of gold. "We would be at Jerusalem."

Now, I understand what it is that Lewis is saying: Joy was a tool that God used to bring Lewis to Christ. The tool was not actually the important thing; what it accomplished, where it led Lewis, was the important thing. A vivid but sporadic sense of awe and wonder--without being related to anything specific--cannot possibly have the importance of a developed, concrete faith in Christ. You use a map to get to a destination; once you get there, you stop puzzling over the map and enjoy the place it led you to.

I guess my problem is that I came to the Lord as a young child. I don't have much of a "before" that I can clearly remember. And yet, Lewis's theme of Joy resonated strongly with me. There have been times when I have experienced that sense of awe and wonder, and a lot more times when I longed to experience it and didn't. I know that Joy is a signpost pointing to God; but is it only a signpost? To put it more bluntly, once we come to Christ, do we lose the transcendent experiences that brought us there? Is the experience of glory to be replaced by theology?

I reproduced the quote above the way I did because that's how I've always remembered it--not that I've remembered it word for word, but I specifically didn't recall the section represented by the ellipsis points. I now reproduce that section, because it does make a difference:

I cannot, indeed, complain, like Wordsworth, that the visionary gleam has passed away. I believe (if the thing were at all worth recording) that the old stab, the old bittersweet, has come to me as often and as sharply since my conversion as at any time of my life whatever. But I now know . . . .

So Lewis wasn't saying that once he became a Christian he stopped experiencing Joy. He was merely saying that it no longer had the importance it once had for him. He recognizes it as not a goal, but as a signpost toward the real goal. But nonetheless, he did still experience it.

And yet . . . it just seems that once having told of his conversion, Lewis just cuts off the narrative as quickly as he can. What he says about Joy seems merely to be the tidying up of a loose end. One can't help getting the impression that his experience of Joy as an important thing has ended--and to experience Joy is to experience it as an important thing. It's hard to get past the phrase, "The subject has nearly lost all interest for me." I understand that he means the intellectual interest--the attempt to discover where it comes from and why and what it means. He has found the answer in Christ. (That, of course, leads to other questions, but these are not directly related to Joy.) But for someone who longs to feel more of the presence of God than a busy life often allows, it just seems to be a bit of a flat ending.

Scot McKnight's Zealotry Series

A few notes on Scot McKnight's fabulous series, "Zealotry," and the comments he's been getting about it.

What McKnight means by Zealotry is doing what ancient Rabbis called, "building a fence around the Torah"--i.e., creating man-made laws that codify and quantify God's Law. The ostensible purpose is to prevent people from getting close enough to the edge to actually sin; the real motivations are fear and control: fear of the consequences of allowing varying understandings of "how far is too far," control over others to achieve uniformity. Underlying all this is the desire for immunity from criticism: if I am willing to restrict myself beyond what God requires, then I cannot be criticized. I can, however, judge those who are unwilling to go as far as I am in zealousness for the Law.

Some people commenting on Jesus Creed are misunderstanding McKnight's terminology: he's using "zealotry" (I believe) as a means of getting past our knee-jerk reactions to more famiar terms like "legalism." (He distinguishes the two by stating that fence-building--the central component to zealotry--plus judgmentalism equals legalism, but also states that he's never seen a fence-builder who wasn't judgmental or a judgmental person who wasn't a fence-builder, so the distinction doesn't seem to mean much.) In McKnight's terms, "zeal" is generally a good thing, "zealotry" is a bad thing.

Others seem concerned that provision be made for "personal fence-building." In other words, is it wrong for me to choose a more restrictive lifestyle out of concern for my own weakness? It seems to me that we need to deal with the fact that the same Holy Spirit inspired (and the same Paul wrote!) both 1 Corinthians 9:19-22, in which Paul makes clear that he has the freedom to live like a Gentile and to live like a Jew, to live as though under Torah or to live as free from Torah, to live as weak (even though he does not count himself among the weak), in order to win others to Christ; and Galatians 3:10-14, in which Paul makes clear that relying on the law leaves one under a curse, that justification is by faith, and that it is by faith and not by keeping the law that we are justified. Not to mention Romans 14, which is totally devoted to the issue of different Christians having differing convictions, the general upshot being that we need to allow one another to have differing convictions. In other words, Scripture allows for us to choose either a more or less restrictive lifestyle for various reasons. What it doesn't allow us to do is to imagine that a more restrictive lifestyle makes us more acceptable to God, or to impose that more restrictive lifestyle on others. Colossians 2:23 makes it clear that man-made regulations "have an appearance of wisdom," but "lack any value in restraining sensual indulgence."

What excites me about all of this is that it reminds me of where I was as a young man, just discovering for myself the truths of God's grace. I recall the excitement and joy I had in recognizing true freedom in Christ, and wanting to share this with everyone. I've lost that along the way, partly out of disappointment at seeing many who spouted anti-legalistic jargon simply using it to justify immorality. But trying to live the Christian life as simply another Law misses the point of life in Christ entirely. Paul says, "Live by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the sinful nature" (Galatians 5:16). The more "in the Spirit" we are, the less we will want to do things that are sinful and destructive to ourselves and others. Neither will we want to construct a new Law for ourselves and for others. We will simply be motivated to do what we can do for our Lord and for His Kingdom. Focusing on what is positive automatically helps us to avoid what is negative.

Check Out Jesus Creed

Clicking on links has finally paid off. It's almost scary how much Scot McKnight's blog Jesus Creed is resonating with me. McKnight is a professor of religious studies at North Park University in Chicago, and is the first person identified with the Emerging Movement who really makes sense to me. He doesn't seem to be simply rejecting rationality, or rejecting more traditional forms of church, or traditional doctrines, but he does seem to want to reach out to people who have been disaffected by the Church.

The first set of posts that caught my eye is his current Zealotry series. Among his many good points is the astute observation that building a "fence" around God's commandments betrays a lack of faith that God's Word is sufficient to keep us in Him. He's got a very interesting series going on Romans, and of course, his Post-Calvinism series is most intriguing.

I think I can learn a lot from this guy. So far, he looks like who I wanted to become when I was in seminary.

A New and Improved Interface You Can Actually Read!

Y'know, considering that Blogger is wildly popular as an entry-level blogging tool and hosting service, their templates stink. It's the extremely narrow column of tiny type running down the middle of the screen that has become ubiquitous in the blogging world. I had to bone up on my CSS in order to fix the style sheet. The odd thing is that it just took simple changes to five lines: increasing the type size and redefining the columns as a percentage of screen width instead of an absolute number of pixels.

Anyway since I tend to blather on and on with large amounts of text, I thought it would be kind to my reader to actually make this thing readable. Merry Christmas!

Individualism; or, I Am He as You Are He as You Are Me and We Are All Together

I recently blogged about how the notion of "rights" derives ultimately from the dignity of the individual that came as a result of the Protestant Reformation. Many see today a radical individualism and overemphasis on personal rights, and may conclude that the Reformation was wrong on this point, or at least that the ball it started rolling had some seriously unfortunate consequences. This is one aspect of what those who view themselves as "postmoderns" charge against what they call "modernism." (For reasons I don't want to get into now, I find both of these terms as they are used today pathetically inadequate and misleading.) So, for example, we have David Fitch critiquing expository preaching on the basis that it makes Scripture into a commodity that is bought by a consumer-driven, individualistic Christian church. I await his next installment to find out how he believes some other type of preaching would fare better, or how any type of preaching at all can be received by anyone other than individuals. Nonetheless, the assumption that individualism is simply a Bad Thing is worth challenging, or at least modifying.

While the Bible stresses the interdependence of Christians living in community and being the Body, our basic relationship with God remains an individual thing, and has to be so, as long as we understand that faith by grace is the basis for our relationship with God. Faith is not something that is exercised by a community, or a family, or some other social group. It is exercised by the individual. Ezekiel 18:1-20 and Jeremiah 31:29-30 make it clear that even in a culture in which people expected children to be liable for the sins of their parents, God made each individual liable for his own sins. At various points in history God chose an individual--Abraham, Moses, Mary, Paul--to play a pivotal role in salvation history. That role was often for the benefit of or in relationship to a larger group, but God communicated with that individual, often alone and in a unique way, to accomplish His purposes. In
Romans 5:12-21, Paul demonstrates how the actions of two individuals affected the eternal destiny of the entire human race. In Romans 4:4-6, where Paul is describing how justification by faith is actually applied, he refers to an individual--who "trusts God" and whose "faith is credited as righteousness."

None of this is to deny the importance of community in Christian life, or the fact that American Evangelicalism has largely ignored that importance. It is not to deny the interdependence that God intended by the analogy of the Body. It is not to deny that in social and political life, Americans overly stress the individual and individual rights. It is not to deny that the focus on individual gratification results in a consumer mentality that has infected the church. It is merely to say that ignoring the individual results in the loss of an extremely significant aspect of the Gospel. David Fitch critiques expository preaching because it makes the individual the arbiter of what she chooses to accept from Scripture. With all the problems inherent in allowing individuals that kind of autonomy, the alternative is literally the abandonment of the Protestant Reformation. After all, it was an individual--Martin Luther--who challenged the corporate body of the Church, based on his own individual understanding of scripture.

Let's be very, very careful before we abandon that.

The Roots of our Rights

Amid the barbecues, fireworks, and summer vacations, it might be worthwhile to reflect for a few moments on what exactly happened to the world on July 4, 1776. For the first time in human history, an attempt was being made to overthrow an existing government and create a new one on the basis of a political theory. History gives the illusion of inevitability, and so 230 years later it seems virtually inconceivable that the grand political experiment might have failed. And yet it might have. Eleven years later, the French had their own revolution, based on largely the same premises as was the American one; that one succeeded in overthrowing its government, but ended in the Reign of Terror and the dictatorship of Napoleon. Other revolutions have come and gone since then, most notably the Russian Revolution in 1917. That of the United States has produced the longest-lasting stable political structure in the world at this time.

The crucial section of the American Declaration of Independence is a mere three sentences:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. --That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, --That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.

The average American, if asked to paraphrase these words, would probably offer something like this: "Everybody's basically the same. We all have the right to live and do as we please, and if the government interferes with that, then we have the right to get rid of it and elect another." This represents not merely a dumbing-down of what Jefferson wrote, but a crucial misunderstanding, not least because most people couldn't articulate what it is they mean by a "right" or on what basis it is thought that individuals have them.

Begging to differ with the Founders, these propositions were not in the least "self-evident." The aristocracy and monarchy of England (and the rest of Europe) were based on the assumption that all people were, in fact, not "created equal." The concept of "rights" was invented as a part of the "social contract" political philosophies of Hobbes, Locke, and Rousseau. Rejecting the "divine right of kings," these philosophers went back to a hypothetically original "state of nature" in which human beings coexisted without any sort of governing institutions. "Rights" (i.e., the ability and moral authority to do anything) were inherent to individuals, and to all individuals equally. This was the cornerstone of Enlightenment political thought. Rather than rulers having all the rights, and their subjects gaining only such rights as the ruler deemed permissible, the individuals comprising societies had the rights, which they ceded to the government only insofar as doing so benefitted the individuals in that society. The government has no rights except those ceded by the individuals comprising the society; as a result, proper government is that which derives from the "consent of the governed."

Where, in turn, did Hobbes, Locke, and Rousseau get this focus on the individual and the equality of all individuals? It pretty clearly derives from the Protestant Reformation, in which a relationship to God is asserted to be the province of the individual, not a Church hierarchy; the "priesthood of all believers" was asserted in place of a class of priests that took Christ's mediatorial position; and the Bible was translated into the vernacular so that all could read and interpret for themselves. Thus, the dignity of the individual was recognized and the hierarchical nature of feudal society was undermined. If I have the same access to God as the King, then why should the King rule over me, other than by my consent and for my benefit?

It was this dignity of the individual that the colonists were trying to preserve when they came to this continent, fleeing from oppression and religious persecution. This dignity of the individual was what made the rightness of a radical break from England seem "self-evident." It has become all too "self-evident," I fear, to the point where we forget in our political discourses that it is God who grants us any rights we have. Some are radical individualists, and need to be reminded that not anything and everything we desire can be construed as a "right," because we don't have the moral authority to obtain anything we want. But others need to be reminded that ultimately it is not the US Constitution that grants us our rights, and not every right need be spelled out in its text (hence the ninth and tenth amendments). What rights we do have are given to us by God; those of us blessed to live in the United States need to be thankful that we live in a nation whose foundations recognize our dignity as individuals, and prayerful that we can continue to "live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness" (1 Tim. 2:1-2).

I Read the News Today, Oh Boy...

"Naturally one wouldn't condemn a dog on newspaper extracts."

--C.S. Lewis, Letters to Malcolm

Bob Mitton recently blogged about news and information overload. It seems to me that there are two separate but related issues: the value of "the news," and how to filter information so as to get the best from what is available (of course, this involves defining "best").

I'm ambivalent about the first issue, the value of the news. It seems to me that news could be moderately valuable if it would stick to being actual news, rather than Tips on Beating the Summer Heat, Can Automated Sprinkler Systems Really Kill You, and Recipes to Improve Your Love Life. Even what masquerades as actual news often falls into the categories of manufactured news (usually polls), entertainment news (the celebrity publicity mill), and personal tragedies ("There was a four-car pileup today...."). This last category is particularly odious, partly because it takes precedence over other news ("If it bleeds, it leads") and partly because it has relevance only to the people involved, who don't need to find out about it on the news. Real actual news--events of political or social significance that have a potential effect on the reader or an actual effect on enough other people that the public in general should know about them--is an ever-shrinking piece of the information pie.

But the larger question is to what degree even real, actual news is of benefit, expecially to the Christian. That is, what does it mean to be an Informed Person (or an Informed Christian) and to what degree is being "informed" a Good Thing?

It seems to me that Western technological society is addicted to the ephemeral. It's most obvious in fashion, where clothing styles that just months ago were considered fresh and attractive are now derided as outdated and ridiculous. There is quite obviously no improvement going on; just a marketing system that urges people to replace clothing more quickly than it is worn out. The addiction of some people to the news is very much like the addiction of others to fashion. Very, very little of what is disseminated by AP, UPI, Reuters, and other news-gathering organizations will be of any historical consequence, let alone eternal consequence. For that matter, very little of what gets discussed on talk radio or on blogs will be of lasting importance.

Asking whether a person is informed is rather like asking whether a measuring cup is full. The question is, "Full of what?" Or, "Informed with what?" If we are to be informed with something that is worthwhile, we will have to overcome our cultural addiction to the ephemeral, and stop imagining that the most recent thing published on a topic will also be the most useful, relevant, and important. It's not true. The most important things have been put into writing a long time ago. "It's all there in Plato," as the Professor said to Peter and Susan.

So to answer Bob's question, my problem is not figuring out how to "filter the noise of our information culture to find relevant information," it's rather finding the time and the quiet and the energy and the desire to read the important books that I already know about but have never read for myself. I don't think I need to amass large amounts of extra information; I think I need to delve deeper into what I think I already know. Bob writes, "news has become entertainment rather than information"; I think amassing quantities of ultimately useless information is itself a form of entertainment. And I, like virtually everyone in my culture, am addicted to various forms of entertainment. As Neil Postman wrote (in yet another book I need to get around to reading), we are Amusing Ourselves to Death. What I need to be doing is digging deeper into the well of life.

My Greatest Gift

I remember exactly how I felt on this day fifteen years ago. I felt sick. It was nerves. There were a ton of things to do. I don't recall all the different things I needed to get done, but I do recall desperately looking for a cassette tape. I don't know how many Bible bookstores I went to, but I couldn't find one that had a tape of the wedding march.

It would be a long story to explain why, but I hadn't heard our organist until the rehearsal. She was horrible. She only knew one phrase of the wedding march, which she kept playing over and over, and she switched from organ to piano, without bothering to ask, because she was having some sort of technical difficulties with the organ. It wasn't the only thing that was going wrong. One of my groomsmen didn't show for the rehearsal, and the woman who had made our cheesecake wedding cake had gotten into a car accident with the cake, and was furiously trying to repair it.

My best man Dave was a prince. He camped out in his car in front of the missing groomsman's home to make sure he'd be there the next day. There were several other things he took care of too, and I knew as soon as he told me he'd take care of something that I didn't need to worry about it anymore. And so all the stuff I had to do was in the end just a distraction from the real business of the day, which was to change my life.

I had known Cecile for two years now. She had given her heart to the Lord soon after I met her, and I saw her life radically change. I've never known anyone to fall in love with Jesus like she did. We each struggled with our attraction to one another; for my part, I was afraid that she'd confuse her feelings for me with her newfound life in Christ, and I didn't want to take advantage of that. It was providential that I went back to seminary for another year while she got discipled. During the next summer back home, we got engaged, and then I went back for one final semester. By the time I was running around on that hot summer day in 1991, I knew I loved her. But in Christ, my conviction was that marriage is forever. There was no turning back.

The ceremony itself was beautiful, but my feelings about actually taking the vows were similar to what Corrie Ten Boom wrote about having lied to the Nazis about having a radio. She was trembling afterward, not because for the first time in her life she had told a conscious lie, but because it had been so "dreadfully easy." Repeating the vows that we had rehearsed was all too easy, but my life was changed forever.

For the last fifteen years, Cecile has been the greatest gift, apart from salvation, that God has ever given to me. She has been faithful, kind, understanding, and supportive through many career changes and moves. She has often been my only reason to keep going through periods of setback and discouragement. Words really cannot do justice to what she means to me. I truly believe that what we have is what God wants every married couple to have. Sometimes we have looked at one another when we've learned of struggles that other couples were going through, and wondered aloud, "What are we doing right?" I don't know what it is, but there must be something. I think it comes down to this: a shared commitment to God being more important than anything else in life, including one another, and a shared commitment to doing what is good for us together (and now, our family) rather than what appears good to either one of us separately.

In an era of rampant divorce, when divorce statistics within the church are just as bad as those outside it, we desperately need a return to God's principles regarding marriage. This does not mean remaining in bad marriages just so as not to be divorced; it means reaching out for God's help to overcome our own selfishness and make our marriages what He wants them to be. The opposite of love is not hate, or even indifference; it is selfishness. If we would truly heed the Biblical command to "love your neighbor as yourself" with just our one closest neighbor, our spouse, we could truly present a Godly alternative to the heartbreak and emotional destruction endemic throughout our world.

Thank you, Cecile, for the one decision that I know I've made right in my life. Thank You, Lord, for the greatest gift of this lifetime that You have given me.


For more on marriage, check out my book, Marriage, Family, and the Image of God .

A Defense of Theological Discussion; or, What Exactly Is This Blog All About Again?

I'm a graduate of Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary. The years that I spent there are among the most cherished of my life. I was one of a few Assemblies of God students in a school that was officially interdenominational Evangelical, but when you got there, was mostly Presbyterian. I got into plenty of debates with guys in my dorm over Reformed theology and a few over miraculous gifts, but it didn't matter. We argued like brothers and we parted as friends. We all had the sense that, even though we were from different denominations, we were still working together for a common goal.

It was a very good thing for me to be in that milieu. My background had been Wesleyan/Methodist in early life, and later on Charismatic/Pentecostal. Combining that background with a Reformed education helped me to get a much more well-rounded view of Evangelical Christianity. It was good for me to see that people from other traditions weren't "God's Frozen Chosen." It was good to see people who didn't agree with me in every doctrinal detail worship God with their whole hearts. Some of the best people I have known were students and teachers there. One of my favorite professors was a short, skinny guy who wore bow ties and had the sharpest wit of anyone I've ever known. He was a very hard-bitten Calvinist and cessationist (neither of which, you'll soon discover, am I) but I loved him and learned a great deal from him.

It was the camaraderie with the other students and the shared sense of discovery that I most enjoyed. We would debate theology with a common commitment to the authority of God's Word, which gave us a foundation for honing our own theological perspectives. I think that ever since, I've been trying to recreate something of that kind of experience. I've tried some newsgroups and mailing lists, but my experience has been that they mostly end up in flame wars between athiests and fundamentalists, or other similarly opposed points of view that have no common ground with which to frame a debate, and no sense of mutual respect for one another's point of view.

I've started up this blog partly as a venue to publish some of my own thoughts and papers on various theological and social topics that interest me, but also partly to provide a forum for discussion. It's fashionable these days to discount the value of theological debate. Why argue about fine points of doctrine when our real business is to win the lost? There is, in fact, a point where theological hair-splitting becomes counterproductive; my favorite example is that of Nestorius, who was excommunicated for a doctrinal error that he denied, maintaining that the orthodox view was his own. But it is also true that most of the foundational doctrines of the Church were hammered out, in the midst of persecution, by debate over various points of view that had to be rejected because they didn't fit the Biblical data. If theological debate was relevant then, when the church was struggling to survive, then I think it's relevant now. To me, the exercise of having to articulate what you believe in a specific area, and perhaps having to defend it to someone with a different point of view, is challenging and exciting. It keeps what I believe fresh and alive.

I'd like to invite other Evangelical Christians to participate in this blog in the "Comments" section. You will notice, if you do, that I've chosen to make this a moderated group. It's not because I'm a control freak, or because I can't handle opinions that differ from my own. It's because, as I wrote above, my experience with Net venues is that they deteriorate into very ugly arguments, and often get dominated by people who don't share the worldview or presuppositions of the main author. My presuppositions include the authority and inspiration of the Bible as the foundation of all theological belief; I'm not particularly interested in getting on the merry-go-round of trying to prove God's existence or the authoritativeness of the Bible. I'm much more interested in discussing the implications of those basic beliefs with those who share them.

So there you have it. Let's begin.....