God "lays all His love" (ABBA) on us--the Incarnation and the Resurrection

We will never fully understand God, not even close.  We won't ever fully understand Jesus even though he walked amongst us for 33 years.  But what we can understand deeply and unequivocally are two basic truths about God, probably the two most important truths:  a)God is "with us;"  and b)God is "for us."  Two basic truths about God that are reflected by the two most important facts of Christ's life--his odd birth and his ignominious death.

First, as one of my sons said: "Dad, Jesus was born lowly so that all could come to Him."  This "lowly birth" meant that persons of any social status would not feel that Jesus was above them.  More importantly, the fact that God deigned to live amongst us--in this difficult sometimes seemingly God-forsaken world--reflects God's solitary with mankind.  God is not "above" our station in life.  God is not some distant puppet-master.  God is not dispassionate towards his creation.  No, God knows and experienced the troubles and travails, the pain and heartache of being human.  God is "with us" in a way that seems unimaginable, in a way that is unique in world religions.

Second, the Cross is a further reflection of God's solidarity with us (we all must die), but it also reflects that God is "for us."  Certainly God need not have died on the Cross.  From His divine standpoint, He could have been miraculously rescued.  From His human standpoint, it seems that Pilate would have let Him go if He had just responded to Pilate--if He had uttered a "single word" in His defense.  But no, He remained mute in the face of the religious persons who wanted Him dead and the bureaucrats who wanted to placate the religious persons and, thereby, maintain peace.

Christ went to the Cross to demonstrate the blood-lust, the inveterate sinfulness of mankind.  He went to the Cross to demonstrate that, even in light of our hopeless sinfulness, He forgives us.  "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do."  To me, these are the most comforting words ever spoken by a man.  Since they came from God, they give us hope--hope beyond compare--hope with no boundaries--hope of limitless duration.

Praise be to the God who is "with us" and "for us."

Candid Camera, "Signs," and Sanctification

A few years ago, a pastor was invested as the new rector at Christ Church Charlottesville.  Paul Zahl's sermon topic at the investiture--"Just Give Up."  During the sermon, PZ said that, if he had any advice to give to Paul Walker as the new rector, it would be to "give up."  You could hear nervous titters of laughter from the congregation.  If these words shocked me, someone who's listened to PZ for years, I can't imagine what the poor congregants were thinking.  'Just give up' doesn't sound like any Christian admonition or advice that I've heard before.

Yet, this is what Jesus was trying to convince the Pharisees to do.  In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus made it clear that we can't keep the Law.  He analogized hate to murder, lust to adultery, and said that we are called to be "perfect as our father in heaven is perfect."  Jesus did the same thing in His parables.  Not one of us would act like the Good Samaritan--becoming unclean to help an enemy, then providing over-abundantly for him.   Like the Rich Young Ruler, not one of us would sell everything and give it to the poor.  So, if Jesus is trying to convince us to give up, what implications does this have for our Christian life?  Can we finally law down our merit-badge list of things that Christians do?  If we lay that down, are we called to do anything?

This morning, Debbie and I were discussing that life is not random.  Last Sunday, our SS teacher was teaching about sovereignty, and I asked him if he had ever seen the movie 'Signs.'  Yes, he had and he said: "Ellis, the longer I live the more I realize that life is not random."  Not to spoil the movie, but God uses weakness, quirkiness, and even death for redemptive purposes.  Shymalan (acting in his own movie) says: "It's as if it was meant to be," when he's asked about a tragic event in the movie.

Debbie and I were discussing how, if we just acknowledge that life is non-random, we see God working everywhere, and I do mean everywhere.  Last week, our cleaning guy was coming, and Debbie told him not to clean our son's room since he left it in a mess.  Debbie and I were discussing how to deal with this--take his car, ground him.  Our intentions were actually good.  We wanted to prepare him to live by himself at college.  We hadn't decided what to do.  We had discussed this with our son before, but he didn't think that cleaning his room mattered.  That nite, we were watching 'Raising Hope' with him.  'Raising Hope' can be inappropriate at times, but the love that the characters have for one another, and the humor that they share with one another, is simply amazing.

In this episode, the father and grandparents of Hope, a 2 year old, were debating about whether to spank her to deal with the 'terrible 2s.'  The discussion turned to whether the grandparents had spanked their son, Hope's father.  They claimed that they did, but it turned out that they hadn't.  "No wonder he never learned to keep his room clean."  "No wonder he's still living at home with his parents."  Our son then understood why we wanted him to clean his room.  It came from an outside source.  It is so difficult for teenagers to hear or receive any advice from their parents.  Keeping your room clean obviously isn't that big of a deal, but lack of self-control can bleed over into other aspects of your life.

Obviously, this a mundane example, but God lives in every aspect of our lives, mundane or otherwise.

Debbie recalled a Candid Camera episode where the flowers on the table were rigged to move.  Rather than trying to figure out what was going on, or marveling at the moving flowers, the people got up and moved to another table.  Debbie recalls being saddened that the folks were ignoring the wonder in their lives.  Debbie then said: "How can we ignore the wonder of Jesus in our lives?"

Which brings me to sanctification.  Per Jesus, we are called to 'just give up,' and look for God's actions in our mundane lives--the entry of God's kingdom into this world.  It can't help but gladden our hearts.  It can't help but cause us to be thankful.  With thankful hearts, we can love our difficult families.  With thankful hearts, we can face difficulties such as sickness, job loss, and death.  With thankful hearts, we can even forgive ourselves, and then others.

Happy Thanksgiving.

The Purpose of Life And Of God's Curses

The purpose of life is to reduce the "Kramer"--Paul Zahl ("PZ").  Kramer is PZ's parlance for generational sin.  I think it's a take on "karma."  In any event, for someone who is completely opposed (and rightfully so) to ever telling us to do anything, PZ actually says to do something in this life.  That thing is to act courageously in those instances where generational sin may be broken or reduced.

PZ goes further and acknowledges that generational sin can't be reduced without the intervention of God.  PZ says that God is graciously constructing a path for us which, even though it has many seemingly unrelated twists and turn, can eventually bring about changes in generational sin.  He then goes to the point of view that we all experience at death--has there been any meaning to my life?  Yes, if there has been a break or reduction in generational sin.

If God is loving, then the curse of generational sin is loving.  This is where I probably go one step beyond Zahl.  It is the generational sin which brings us to a point of impasse such that we cry out to God: "Uncle.  I give up."  This has happened profoundly in my relationship with Debbie.

I've written before that God's curses in the Garden were loving.  God cursed work so that men wouldn't make it their god.  God cursed childbirth so that women wouldn't make children their god.  It wasn't until this morning that I finally understood God's curse of women's desire and man's control or leadership.  This arose out of Debbie's comments about this verse.

"Your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you."  Gen. 3:16.

Women often have unrealistic desires and expectations towards their husbands.  In our present age, this leads to divorce.

Men attempt to control or rule over their wives.  When they can't, in our present age, this leads to divorce.

As I've written before, if you don't experience a profound change in your marriage, it won't last.  According to PZ, it's only through the work of God that this profound change can happen.

If, when a woman learns that her husband will never meet her expectations for provision and intimacy, she says: "I give up--over to you God," then the marriage may be saved.

If, when a husband realizes that he can never rule his wife, he says: "I give up--over to you God," then the marriage can be saved.

It's only through surrender to something outside us (as per Alcoholics Anonymous) that we have hope for change.

But, we're only open to change when we have exhausted every last ounce of energy, strength, and conviction in trying to obtain from our spouse what we need from God--unconditional love.

As a wife releases her husband from her expectation of intimacy, he will become more intimate.

As a husband releases his wife from his efforts at control, she will seek his guidance.

That's the way that God works.  He brings us to the end of ourselves, through curses which are passed down from generation to generation, only to then provide a way out.

Wes Anderson's Rushmore--A Panoply of Grace

SPOILER ALERT:  IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN "RUSHMORE," THIS WILL SPOIL IT FOR YOUR, OR MAYBE ENHANCE IT.

My daughter's fiancée is a huge fan of Wes Anderson, so we've been having a Wes Anderson film festival at our house.  My favorite was Grand Budapest, per my prior post, but now it's Rushmore.

As Debbie said:  Max Fischer is going to be okay-- at age 15, he understands grace and forgiveness.

Max Fischer is the 15 year old protagonist who goes from controlling his world for his own benefit to forgiving others for their benefit.  In terms of control, Max is Mr. Everything at school.  He is involved in every extra-curricular activity going, but doesn't pay that much attention to his grades.  Max appears sure of himself, so sure of himself that he expects that he will obtain his love interest--his beautiful young teacher.  Max seems to be grabbing adulthood by the tail as he becomes friends with a wealthy father of two of his obnoxious classmates (Herman).  Max seem to be a man of the world--a young man who seems perfectly at home at a wealthy boarding school.

But then cracks begin to show.  We learn that Max's father is a barber, not a neurosurgeon as he has told Herman.  Of course, Max's teacher rejects him.  In fact, she begins seeing Herman--a deep betrayal of Max by both of them.  We see Max hounded by the school bully.  Max drops out of school and begins working in his father's barber shop.  But the bad things aren't only done to Max, he also does bad things.  None of us are innocent.  Max hurts his young protege' by telling others something untrue about the young man's mother.  Max's world is crumbling.

How does Max respond?  He is no longer in control of what others think of him, or of his future.  He is at the mercy of the world or God or karma.

Max responds with unadulterated grace.  Max puts on a play that he has scripted and directs.  In doing so, he sets up Herman with his teacher by inviting them both to the play--after their relationship has fallen on the rocks.  He rejoins the two in a relationship that cut him to the quick.  His play is set in Vietnam--Herman served in Vietnam.  Max even gives his arch enemy, the school bully, a starring role.  He responds by telling Max that he's always wanted to be in one of his plays.  We never know what lies behind other's harmful actions towards us--sometimes they feel wounded by us or jealous of us, or just want to be accepted.  Max apologizes to his young protege' who forgives Max for telling other students that his mother gave Max a hand-job.  Wes Anderson gets forgiveness.  But he doesn't stop there.

During the last few moments of Rushmore, we hear the refrain played over and over again from
The Who "mini-opera:" "A Quick One While He's Away."  Pete Townsend sings over and over: "You are forgiven"--the last two minutes of the 9 minute song.  In the video, Pete ends the song by announcing to the crowd:  "you're all forgiven."  The forgiveness in The Who mini-opera, like the forgiveness in Rushmore, is simply breathtaking.  In The Who's song, the husband was away for "nigh on a year," so she takes up with Ivor the bus driver.  Then, her husband returns and forgives her--simply forgives her.  This is the story out of which springs the two minutes of constant refrains of "you are forgiven."

Lasty, on a more personal note, Max tells Herman that his father is a neurosurgeon.  Later, after Max's downturn, he invites Herman to the barber shop for a haircut by his father.  At the play, he is introducing his father to everyone--as a barber.

My own father was a small-town Baptist preacher, who spent his last 15 years of work as chaplain at Partlow.  Sadly, I was embarrassed that he was a chaplain and not a worldly success with a big church.  Now that I have a 180 degree different view of Jesus, I'm so proud of my father.  My father loved the residents at Partlow, and they loved him.  One of my daughter's good friends in school had Downs Syndrome, so there is some heritage at work there.

God bless Wes Anderson for bringing us this poignant look at the only true change agent in the world--forgiveness--which is synonymous with grace.

Opposites Attract--From Good to Bad to Good

We all marry the wrong people, because we are all sinners.  We all bring baggage into the marriage.  Sadly, sometimes the baggage is too much for the marriage to survive--even when the two people have good intentions towards one another.  Is there a view of marriage which gives the two people the best chance for survival of the marriage?

Opposites attract which begins as a good thing.  Your heart gets the pitter-patters, because you have come across someone who is innately different from you--yet they desire to be with you--even desire, supposedly, to spend the rest of their life with you.  This provides the intoxicating elixir called romantic love.  This is a good thing.  But for this romantic love, the human race would die out.

Yet, this state of intoxication doesn't last long.  The differences which were charming become tiresome and even the basis for disagreements and, many times, profound contempt for one another.  Take me and Debbie in our early marriage as examples.  I was organized--Debbie was not.  I highly valued truth--Debbie not so much. Debbie is very relational--I was not.  Debbie has great empathy--me not so much.  So, you can well imagine that we had disputes.  I valued having an orderly home and life over relationships with people.  This led to many, many conflicts over topics ranging from housekeeping, bill paying, parenting, to picking a church.  Our differences almost led to divorce.  This is the bad part.

Once you reach the bad times, the question is whether the bad times will continue to get worse (leading to divorce) or whether there will be redemption.  In order for there to be redemption, the differences must be seen not as issues to overcome, but as blessings.

Over time, I have come to appreciate Debbie's relational nature.  Thanks to Debbie, I finally have a relationship with my mother that I never dreamed possible.

Over time, Debbie has come to appreciate my organizational skills.  This has made our home more of a refuge from the disorganization of the world.

Over tine, I have come to appreciate Debbie's empathy.  This empathy has caused me to be empathetic towards myself, which has quieted the voices of suicide and depression.  Empathy towards myself has led to deeper relationships at work and in our neighborhood.

Over time, Debbie has come to appreciate the truth.  Speaking the truth allows us to deal with heart issues that we swept under the rug for years.

So, "opposites attract" seems to be a genetic and/or Divinely appointed means of building stronger and stronger marriages.

Religious Psychology, "The Road," and My Father

Paul Zahl, quoting Aldous Huxley, says that we all need a religious psychologist.  But I was brought up Baptist.  I was told, over and over, that the proclamation of the Word is what I most needed.  For once, the Baptists were actually right.  When the Word is rightly proclaimed, it pierces our hearts and changes our perspective on God, on people, and allows us to love more.  This piercing of the heart is where the psychology comes in.  Indeed, St. Paul may have been the first person to understand and write extensively about psychology.  "Why do I do the things I shouldn't do, and leave undone the things that I ought to do."

When we view Christianity as an interpretive lens for life, it becomes a true psychology--a freeing word--a means for "getting through the day"--because "nobody gets out of this life alive." (Axl)  One of the most helpful interpretive principals taught first by St. Paul, but really honed by Luther, is the principal that the Word first speaks Law, but then this is followed by Grace.  The Law exposes our sin, and Grace tells us that God is, nevertheless, on our side.  God is on our side even when we repeat sins--just look at the stories of Abraham, King David, King Solomon, and Samson.

This Law/Grace modality, which is a profoundly and uniquely Christian view, of interpreting life finally allowed me to deal with the life and death of my father.

My father was 47 when I was born.  He was probably a little old to be starting a family, but he wasn't willing to have children until he was able to provide for us.  My sister was born two years later.  My father grew up woefully poor on a struggling red dirt farm in northern Tuscaloosa County during the Great Depression.  It irks me to hear people compare our recent economic issues with the Great Depression.  No one in the US went hungry this last time, while millions were woefully destitute--suffering and dying from hunger and sickness--during the Great Depression.  Even the poorest in our country had cars, cell phones, flat screen TVs, and food galore this last time.  This is why my father waited so long to have children.

When my father died, in 1997, I was busy with my law career, with two young children, and our third child had just been born five days before my father passed away.  I wasn't there for him when he died--I thought that I was too busy to spend the time with him that he would have enjoyed.  I was a self-centered prick.  I was trying to make my way in the world, and it was extremely stressful.  Two of the attorneys that I worked mostly with had psychological problems which only exaggerated my own psychological problems.  This led, in part, to suicidal tendencies on my part, and on the part of another attorney who worked for one of them.  So, I wasn't there for my father when he died.

Then I read "The Road" by Cormac McCarthy.  My pastor and I were discussing McCarthy the other nite, and I told him that my lens for understanding the book was the Law/Grace dichotomy.  I told him that this caused me, and causes me, to weep whenever I read the ending of the book.  So, whenever I feel myself becoming hard-hearted or disconnected from my wife, I just read the ending of the book again.

He said: "Tell me."  After I finished, he said: "Wow, I've never read it that way before, but you're absolutely right."  I'm not looking for pats on the head--I'm telling you his comments to bring home the efficacy of the Law/Grace lens.

The book is about the journey of a father and son through a post-apocalyptic world.  The tale is so very, very dark that I've never read the entire book again and can't watch the movie.  This is the Law portion of the book--the portion of the book which exposes the sinfulness of man, the difficulties of this world, and the ever-present certainty of death.  Indeed, McCarthy always brings these truths to the forefront in his books.

"He walked out in the gray light and stood and he saw for a brief moment the absolute truth of the world. The cold relentless circling of the intestate earth. Darkness implacable. The blind dogs of the sun in their running. The crushing black vacuum of the universe. And somewhere two hunted animals trembling like ground-foxes in their cover. Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it.” 
― Cormac McCarthy, The Road

Then, you get to the end and the father dies, seemingly leaving his son alone.  The boy leaves his dead father on the beach, not sure of what to do--and utterly, completely alone.  When he gets to the road, he finds he's not alone.  Is this person going to eat him, kill him, rape him--we've seen all of these things in the book.  No, this man reflects Grace.  For this man is armed to the teeth--which is what was needed to survive.  He could offer greater safety to the boy than his father ever could.  He helps the son bury his father.  What's more, the man had a wife and child, and the boy had been yearning for companionship with another child, even subjecting he and his father to potential dangers to try and find a child for a friend.  The fact that the book is so dark only serves to make the light at the end that much greater.  The wife, the boy's new mother, holds him and speaks to him:

“The woman when she saw him put her arms around him and held him. Oh, she said, I am so glad to see you. She would talk to him sometimes about God. He tried to talk to God but the best thing was to talk to his father and he did talk to him and he didn't forget. The woman said that was all right. She said that the breath of God was his breath yet though it pass from man to man through all of time.” 
― Cormac McCarthy, The Road

And McCarthy even expressly reflects upon the light.  Throughout the book, the father has a constant rejoinder to the son that they are "carrying the fire."  In this landscape where men have become the worst of mankind (cannibals, sodomists, etc.), the boy and his father had rejected that.  They were carrying the fire of what was good in man.  At the end of the book, the father tells the son, as his dying words, that he is leaving his son behind to "carry the fire."  The father then goes on ahead--to prepare a way--"for in my Father's house, there are many rooms.  If it were not true, I would have told you so."

“You have to carry the fire."
I don't know how to."
Yes, you do."
Is the fire real? The fire?"
Yes it is."
Where is it? I don't know where it is."
Yes you do. It's inside you. It always was there. I can see it.” 
― Cormac McCarthy, The Road
The word of Grace to me was that the father had done his job--he had walked beside his son in this life, and he was "going on ahead."   The father was satisfied at having done his job.  He wasn't looking for praise or affirmation from his son--he knew that he would hear "well done, good and faithful servant" soon enough.  These are certainly the words that my father heard when he passed away.  This gives me comfort--that, notwithstanding my abject failure at being a son--my father passed knowing that he had done his job, that he "had carried the fire."  The amazing good news is that he passed that along to me.  Now, I "love to tell the story, the old old story, of Jesus and His love."

Praise be to Christ.

Abreaction in South Park (Lorde's "Royals" and Randy)

I regularly watch South Park with my sons.  It helps keep me current on the culture and news (I just can't watch Fox or CNN any more--they're both so jaundiced), and more importantly it allows me to laugh with my sons.

In "The Cissy," Matt and Trey once again make fun of political correctness.  This time it's in the context of transgender rights.  At the end of the episode, thought, the writers are sympathetic to those at whose expense they give us humor.  They also make fun of "Autotune"--in this day and age, it seems true that you don't have to have a good voice to make it in the world of pop music.  But underneath decrying political correctness and the absurdity of our idolization of pop music stars lies a different word, a different voice--the word and voice of Grace.

I didn't realize the magnitude of the word of Grace that Sharon spoke to Randy until I looked into Lorde's music this morning.  Lorde's music directly refutes and exposes the absurdity of our culture's obsession with success (Maybach's and Cristal) and celebrity status (who we treat like "Royals").

As I watched the video "Royals," I was struck with tears of joy and wonder.  Why did Matt and Trey choose Randy to be Lorde?  Why not one of the kids?  Why not one of the other parents?  Why Randy?  (A writer from Spin Magazine has determined that Randy is Lorde, and is going to expose him.  He decides not to, because he is struck by the humanity of Lorde's/Randy's music.  In this day and age, does any reporter ever make such a decision?)

It helps to understand Randy's identity.  He's a geologist--not a very sexy or high-paying job.  He's been married to Sharon for a long time.  His son Stan is a good kid, but nerdy, not one of the "popular kids."  His daughter, Shelly, is always screaming (and I do mean screaming): "Leave me alone Dad.  Stop nagging me all the time...You don't even understand me."  Randy is a typical middle-aged, middle class man--a group of people that seem to be given no respect any more, by anyone!  Anyone, that is, except Matt and Trey.

Matt and Trey actually laud Lorde's music (despite the Autotune)--Sharon says that those who reject her music have lost touch with "being human."  Lorde's music says that it's okay to live mundane lives--one's of little worldly success.  In fact, one gets the distinct impression that she's saying that such people are actually the "Royals."  So having Randy be Lorde is simply genius--it's a word of respite to the least-liked, and least understood, group in America--middle-aged men.  It's certainly that way in God's kingdom.  He didn't come for the rich, successful, those venerated by the world.  He came for those oppressed by or simply ignored by the world.  Jesus came for folks like Randy.  Randy is the true "Royal" in God's economy of things--in God's kingdom.

What does death say about life?

Recently, Paul Zahl said:  "What does it say about life that it ends in death?'

I've been pondering this statement daily since.

If we go back to the Garden of Eden, we see that God cursed the soil (work), and He cursed childbirth (children).  As I've previously written, God did this because:  a)men will put their work before God and family;  and b)women will put their children before God and family.  So, the curses are designed to keep us putting God first, but they are still curses.

This means that life on earth is cursed.  It may have been gracious for God to curse life on earth, given our idolatrous hearts, but it's still cursed.  Life, in other words, is not the best.

The fact that life ends in death confirms this.  If there is a God who cares about us, He wouldn't leave us in a perpetually cursed world.  In fact, the flaming swords at the Garden of Eden were put there so that man couldn't sneak back in, eat of the Tree of Life, and live forever in this cursed world.

So, I think the fact that life ends in death confirms that there is an afterlife--at least if God is merciful.  In PZ's latest book, he describes the one word that a "floater" (someone hovering on the ceiling of his hospital room over his dying body) needs to believe about God--mercy.

If God is merciful, then we can expect that He has prepared something better for us.  Indeed, Jesus confirmed this.  "In my father's house, there are many rooms.  I go there to prepare a place for you."

So, why life?  Perhaps it is because we can't understand mercy without having experienced non-mercy.  This morning, Tullian wrote that: "at age 25, I thought that I could change the world.  At age 42, I know that I can't change my wife, my kids, my church, and certainly not the world."  This turned Tullian more and more to God's grace.  This turns me more and more to God's grace.

The afterlife is going to be that much greater, because we have lived in this world.  Yet, we are not to reject this world.  If Jesus came into this world, and lived amongst us (exhibiting love to all),  who are we to think that we shouldn't embrace this world and live out lives of love towards our fellow man?

The Kingdom, which Jesus discussed over and over, is already, but not yet.  It has broken through into this world, but not fully.  The best is yet to come.

Walter White, the Work of Men, and God's Strange Love

I watched the last three episodes of Breaking Bad again and saw yet more of the profundity of the show.  For four seasons and 15 episodes, Walt said that he did it all "for his family."  In the last episode, he sees Skylar for the last time, and he's giving his parting words.  She says: "Don't tell me that..." (obviously going to say--don't tell me that you did it for all our family).  Walt surprises her and all of us with his truthfulness:  "I did it for me.  I enjoyed it.  I was really good at it."  Earlier in the episode, Walt recalls a birthday celebration before it all began when Hank said: "Walt, get a little excitement in your life.  Come with me when we bust a Meth lab."  Of course, it was due to Walt's ride-along on such a bust that he met Jesse, and so began his life of crime.  Walt delved further and further into the criminal world--all the while telling himself that he was doing it for his family.

How blind we all are--in so many areas of our lives.  For men, it's often a blindness to the role that work plays in our lives.  We define ourselves through work.  If we're successful in work, we have a meaningful identity.  We become Heisenbergs.  Yet, we tell ourselves that we're chiefly working to provide for our families.  As we grow older and look back upon our lives, we realize that the work often superseded the real needs of our families--to have a present, kind, loving father--such as Walter started out.  If we're fortunate, God reveals this blindness to us while we can still change.

Over the years, my view of God's grace has grown and grown and grown.  Now, when I read the Old Testament, I read it as one acquainted with Christ and His strange love.  He loved not the good, but the bad; not the strong, but the weak; not the successful, but the failures;  not the well, but the sick;  not the upright church-go'ers, but the Jimmy Hale Mission-go'ers.  Indeed He loves all, but the good, strong, successful, well, and upright people can't recognize His love until they first realize that they are sinners.  That's why Jesus upbraids the Pharisees time, and time, and time again.

As displayed in WW, one of man's chief sins is to place work above everything else.  And, all the while, we delude ourselves into thinking we're doing it for our families.  So, in order for man to recognize the idolatry inherent in placing work number one, as told in Genesis, God placed "thorns and thistles" in the earth that man was tilling.  This is almost always spoken of as a curse--as a bad thing.  In fact, it's the opposite.  Eventually the thorns and thistles in our work--whether it's being passed over for a job promotion, having a difficult boss, representing ungrateful people, or the milieu of other negative repercussions of work--cause us to realize that work is not the "be all and end all."  It is not how we are to define ourselves.  Work is meant for us to enjoy, for us to provide for our families, but not for us to worship.

With Walter White, it took the complete devastation of his criminal enterprise, of all of his work, for him to come to this realization.  By God's grace, may we be less blind than WW.

By the way, in a recent interview, Bryan Cranston intimated that there might be more BB.  Let's hope so!

Eminem's Devastating Diagnosis of the Human Condition

"Slim Shady's crazy.  Shady made me, but tonite he's rock-a-by-baby."

In the "When I'm Gone" video, Eminem appears at what is clearly an AA meeting.
In response to: "Is there anyone else who'd like to share with us tonite," Enimem launches into one of the most confessional raps/songs/speeches that I've heard.  As Christians, we're supposed to confess our sins one to another.  Eminem gets this.

He begins by telling us how much he loves his daughter--that he would "give an arm for her"--that he would "destroy anyone who tries to harm her."  What happens when you then become the person harming her--you become the "main source of her pain," he raps.

"Daddy, where's mommy?" (They've been divorced two times.)  He dismisses her saying that he's got to write a song and catch a plane.  He tells her to "swing by herself."

Then, "you turn right around and, in that song, tell her you love her--and put hands on her mother, who's the spitting image of her."

Talk about a divided self--not doing what he desires (loving his daughter) but doing what he doesn't desire (leaving his daughter, even doing violence to her mother--the "spitting image of her").

Remarkably, Eminem arrives at the same place as St. Paul:  "Wretched man that I am. Who will deliver me from this body of death?" "Tonite, he's rock-a-by-baby."

In Christianity, we believe that self-improvement plans don't work.  We believe that we are such inveterate sinners, so incapable of doing the right thing, that a death is necessary.  St. Paul cried out for deliverance.  Eminem cries out for deliverance.

St. Paul gave us the answer: "There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus."

How can this be the answer to the divided self?

Our divided selves react negatively to the law.  When someone tries to tell us how to live our lives, we are prone, even programmed perhaps, to do the opposite.  When our wives, bosses, even best friends try to tell us what we should do, we revolt!  We hate the law!

How much worse is it then, when we believe that God is laying the law down for us to follow?  We revolt that much more.  Sure, some people may seem to outwardly keep the law, but their hearts are not in it, they're not in love with God.  As Jesus said, if you look in their hearts, there is no goodness, only self-righteousness.

But, when we realize that Jesus removed the demand of the law--that we are free from "having" to keep the law, then we "want" to keep it.  When we know that God loves us, irrespective of our actions, we are slain--maybe even "slain in the spirit," as the Pentecostals claim.  We die, and a new person arises--a person who, through the grace of God, begins to keep the law out of love for God, not out of duty.

"All this time I couldn't see.  How could it be that the curtain is closing on me.  I turn around, find a gun on the ground, cock it, and put it to my brain.  Shady's _____"

Then, at the instant of death, Eminem's eyes are opened.  He awakes as if it has all been a bad dream.

"That's when I wake up, alarm clock's ringing, birds are singing, Hallie's outside swinging."

"I walk right up to Kim and kiss her, tell her I miss her.  Hallie just smiles and winks at her little sister."

In real life, Slim Shady does seem to have died.  Indeed, this song "When I'm Gone" was the swan song of "Slim Shady."  Eminem decided to kill off this persona and try for a new life.  According to Kim's mother, Kim and Eminem are back together.  She says that both struggled with addiction for years, but seem to be clean.  According to the mother, they intend to give their relationship another go.

What Christians can Learn from Atheists

"Happy Clappy."  I saw a fellow wearing this shirt the other nite, and it has stuck in my craw.  Of course, maybe he was wearing the shirt in irony.  If so, he understands the world.  If not, he doesn't.

One problem (indeed the chief problem based upon my atheist friends) that atheists have with believing in God is that this is a messy, cruel world.  If there is a God, why can't the world be better?The chief problem that atheists have with Christianity specifically is that we preach morality, but live differently.  What can we learn from these very apropos criticisms?

First, during dialogue with a Jewish atheist friend, he told me that he had relatives who were victims of the holocaust.  "How can your God allow such a thing to happen?"  In my former days as a Southern Baptist, I would have said that God gave "free will" to man and, therefore, we are free to sin.  But this can't explain the scope of the sin of the Nazis, of Stalin, and of Mao.  Millions killed for no reason.

Now, I said: "This is a fallen world.  Whether you believe in God or not doesn't change the character of this world.  The question for me is whether there is a god who has a legitimate response to the world's fallenness.  Like maybe empathizing with humans in their experiences in this world.  So, maybe a God who would lock the gates to Eden so that we couldn't live forever in this fallen world.  Like maybe a God who shortened man's life-span after the Flood.  Like maybe a God who came into this world in the lowliest birth possible, in a backwater town, who was loved while he was healing people, but then ultimately was despised and killed for telling the church people that they were sinners.  Would a god like that be responsive to the fallenness of this world?"

We will never understand, certainly not fully, why the world is so messy.  Yet, Jesus' life reflects that He understood and indeed entered into life in this fallen world.  When Jesus' empathy is proclaimed, He becomes dear to fellow sufferers.  When Jesus' empathy is proclaimed, the self-righteous can let down their guard and embrace their own failings and pain.  Then, Jesus becomes a god who is approachable in our pain.

Second, Christianity is not primarily about morality.  As a good friend said: "Christianity is not really about morality--morality is just a byproduct."  As one of my sons said:  "The Bible isn't a rule book.  It tells us who we are--sinners; and who God is--our redeemer."  Christianity isn't  a religion with standards or rules to live by.  Instead, Christianity sets impossible standards for living--"be ye perfect as your Father in Heaven is perfect."  But it gets worse.  Even if you were able to live a life of perfect actions, unless your heart was fully selfless, it still wouldn't be good enough.  This is where Grace steps in and shuts the mouths of the outcasts (shut with thankfulness) and the self-righteous (shut with disbelief that they are not righteous).  Grace is the only possible answer to the impossible standards espoused by Jesus.

If we take Jesus at His word, we come to understand that we are ALL SINNERS, in need of God's GRACE.  When this is the message coming from Christian pulpits, instead of moralism, the atheist critique that Christians are hypocrites will lose its bite.

What Christians can learn from agnostics

Recently, I have taken Jesus at His word on a couple of matters.  First, Jesus says that all of the Scriptures are about Him.  Second, Jesus says that faith the size of a mustard seed is salvific.  Wherein lies the nexus between these seemingly disparate comments from Jesus?  An interpretation of the Bible that is Christo-centric, and nothing else.  Not inerrant, not as a science book, not as the great Holy Book.  Rather, an interpretation of the Bible that upholds the discontinuity of Christ--a discontinuity which many agnostics see, but many Christians don't.

Innumerable times I have heard pastors refer to the Bible as "holy," "inerrant," "the word of God," "infallible," etc.  This view creates problems, not the least of which are:  1)a view that God has revealed that the earth is only 6000 years old, when science reveals otherwise;  2)a view that the U.S. was to create a Jewish homeland which has led to further unrest in the Middle East (by the way, I'm a supporter of Israel, just not on Biblical grounds);  3)a view that Jesus (because of the way that God is described in the OT) could favor a first-strike war against Iraq;  4)a view that led to the Crusades;  and, most importantly: 5)a view that we are to look to the Ten Commandments as a way to please God or to honor God.  These views have led to a lack of credibility for the true message of Christianity--that the one true God loves everyone right where they are--in the midst of their sin--and died on the Cross to redeem sinners and this sinful world.

Why can't we Christians see this when others, indeed many agnostics, can?  Do the agnostics have faith when we Christians don't?

Based upon my conversations with some agnostics, they read the Bible as telling the story of a man who was discontinuous.  One of my agnostic friends wrote a paper in which he discussed the love ethic of Jesus.  He said, essentially, that Jesus' command to love our neighbors as ourselves is too radical--that it can't work.  He's absolutely right--we can't love our neighbors as ourselves.  In other words, Jesus doesn't love like man--Jesus loves too much.  "If a man strikes you on one cheek, turn the other towards him to be struck."  "If a man asks you to carry his burden for a mile, carry it for three miles."  "Forgive others 7 times 70."  And, seemingly an insane command: "Love your enemies."  Agnostics believe that there may be a God, but, if there is a God, he is wholly different from man.  Is this faith which is the size of a mustard seed?  What's more, if agnostics were to commit themselves to God, they would be committing themselves to the right God--the friend of inveterate sinners, not the God who "helps those who help themselves" or the God who blesses the righteous.

The OT is not replete with stories of faith--instances where the OT saints got it right.  (Nor is the NT--Jesus' disciples ran away and hid.) Instead, the OT is full of sinners--Abraham who tried to give his wife up for sex to save his own life;  Abraham who took his wife's handmaiden, rather than waiting on God; Isaac who similarly gave his wife up to save his life; Jacob who stole Esau's birthright;  David who was an adulterer and murderer.  So, maybe Jesus got it right when he said that faith the size of a mustard seed is salvific, because we are taught that Abraham is in eternity with God, along with Isaac and David.  So, maybe, just maybe, there is hope even for self-righteous, sinful Christians, like me, because all that is required is faith the size of a mustard seed.

"To do" versus "done" religion

So often, we act as if there is still something for us to do for God.  Regardless of how much we talk about grace, regardless of how much we refer to Christ's finished work on the Cross, we still feel like we need "to do something for God."  We are inveterate "do'ers."  We want to earn our salvation.

THIS IS HERETICAL.

Most divisions in the church have to do with whether we still have to "do something for God."  Just yesterday, a friend at church told me that one of his dear friends from seminary had fallen away from the faith.  Yes, he still claims to be a Christian, but he has fallen in with a group of "Christians" who have come up with another theological title for earning, or at least keeping, our salvation.

But this fellow is not unique.  Sadly, given my 43 years in church, this is what 99% of all "Christians" believe.  We may be saved by grace, but now we need to get on with God's work.  Our salvation is assured, but if our lives don't look "Christian" enough, then maybe we were never saved.  Or some say that you can lose your salvation.

Each of these beliefs puts the burden of the law, of doing, of working for God right back on our shoulders.  When we are subject to these burdens, a couple of things happen.  First, it destroys our rest.  We are not able to simply be in "communion" with God--we have to work at it.  When we have to work at it, we either avoid God, or we throw ourselves into boundless "Christian merit badge" projects--short-term mission trips, soup kitchens, Bible studies, prayer, etc.  These may be good things, but only when they flow out of thankfulness for what God has done, not out of our thinking we have things to do for God.

Second, it either creates in us self-righteousness (because we are getting it done for God) or despair (because we aren't getting it done for God).  And how do we decide whether we are getting it done for God--we compare ourselves to others.  This is DEATH.  Jesus railed against this.

I'm not saying that work is bad--work should be good.  But it all depends upon where our hearts are vis a vis work.  Does work define us?  Does it define our relationship with God?  Or is our work an outpouring of thankfulness to God? Are we grateful to be able to provide for our families?  Are we grateful that our status with God is one of being able to rest since Christ has already done the heavy lifting?

WHEN WE THINK THAT WE STILL HAVE TO DO SOMETHING FOR GOD, WE ARE DENIGRATING CHRIST'S WORK ON THE CROSS.  TALK ABOUT BLASPHEMING GOD!

As David Zahl said in a recent sermon:

"We are not employees of God;  we are His children."

And perhaps even more poignantly:

"Jesus only had three years to get His ministry done.  He sure seems to have taken too many vacation days."

One of my favorite stories about Adam & Eve has to do with the "thorns and thistles."  Some say that God cursed us with work--that work was a punishment for sin.  But they're wrong.  Work pre-dated the fall.  Adam & Eve tended the garden, but they did so when they were in an unmediated relationship with God--they walked with Him in the cool of the garden.  So, God did not curse them with work.

Instead, God cursed the work with "thorns and thistles."  This sounds like God is being retributive, but He's actually being gracious.  God knows that, left to ourselves, we make work our god!  We value ourselves by how much we work (whether for man or ostensibly for God).  But God didn't want us to value ourselves this way.  He wants us to value ourselves as He does, as beloved children, not employees, "worker-bees," or slaves.  So, God cursed work so that we wouldn't make it God, it wouldn't be our ultimate joy, it wouldn't be our god.

All praise to the God who has done it all so that now our days can be filled with not only rest, but work that is borne out of thankfulness.

From death to life--how true Christianity brings liberty.

"I'm plotting my escape from you."--Debbie's words 14 years ago.

"I love you with all of my heart.  You're my best friend."--Debbie's words now.

Thanks be to God--correct theology when combined with the actions of God can liberate you from sin.

In 1998, I began attending Paul Zahl's Bible Study at the Cathedral Church of the Advent in Birmingham.  I didn't understand anything he was saying, but it was intellectually challenging so I continued going.  It wasn't just Zahl's teaching that saved me, it was God's "awful" work in my life.  About 2001, God attacked my family, my job, and my health.  I finally understood that, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't control my wife, my work, and certainly not my health.  Zahl's teachings finally made sense.  Finally, God was able to extricate my life from my clutching hands.  Finally, I was able to say "over to God."

Three of the hallmarks of Zahl's teaching (which are three hallmarks of Christianity) were directly contrary to what I had been taught in a Southern Baptist church (and contrary to what is taught in most churches):

Free Will? Not.

Strength in Weakness.

Grace, not Law.

Baptists are big on teaching "free will."  You tell your congregants that they have "free will" and can make correct choices.  This is because the preacher is trying to get his congregation to live right, to look right for the rest of the world.  THIS IS HERETICAL.

We now belong to a Presbyterian church which is theologically sound and life-giving (and there are a couple of others in B'ham, but not many).  But most Presbyterian churches get it wrong as well.  They teach that you are saved by God's grace, but sanctification is something we need to work at.  THIS IS HERETICAL.

We are all bound to deep-down libidinal urges--anger and lust for Ellis.  For Debbie, it was garnering the approval of others by serving them and never saying no to helping someone--even when helping them was not in the other person's best interest.

One of Martin Luther's most important books is entitled "The Bondage of the Will."  It describes how we are dead in our trespasses and powerless to change without the intervention of God.  And it's not that we just need a little help from God, God must go the whole way--it all lies with him.

I read "The Bondage of the Will" and thought it was theologically profound.  Debbie went much further.  She read "The Bondage of the Will" and said:  "Now I can love _____"--a particularly difficult person in her life.  After reading the book, Debbie could love this person and give them grace, because that person's will was bound.  As Debbie has done this over the years, that person has blossomed.  When true grace, not just servile obedience is directed towards someone, God's work can be done.

The idea that God's strength is revealed in our weakness is antithetical to our desire to be our own savior.  It is also antithetical to the teaching in most churches that we can be good people.  If I can be a good person in my own strength, then I don't need God (or maybe I just need him as a co-pilot).  If I can be a good person on my own, then I have to compare myself to others to confirm that I'm good.  In people like me, this leads to self-righteousness, which is death.  For people like Debbie, it causes her to find that she is always lacking when she compares herself to others.  God doesn't want us to be self-righteous or despondent.

Jesus didn't say "compare yourself to others."  Instead, Jesus said "be perfect."  And when you're being perfect, you better be doing it for the right reason, with a pure heart!  This means that it is impossible to live a Christian life!  Our only hope is grace.  We find this when we get in touch with our weakness, not our strength.

And it's grace all the way.  Not just grace for salvation, but grace for sanctification as well.  This is why many Christians withdraw from church.  Most churches teach that we can make ourselves better.  But this just reignites our comparing ourselves to others.  It diverts us from Jesus' teaching--"be perfect"--to trying to do what the pastor says: 1)tithe, 2)go on short term mission trips, 3)be truthful, 4)live a righteous life so that others will be drawn to Jesus.  This was death for me.

In stark contrast, grace was life.  Debbie went from "plotting her escape" from me to "planning on growing old together."  I can't ever thank Zahl enough for his seemingly boundless energy and courage for proclaiming the Gospel.  Every now and then, a prophet comes along--Zahl was one, and Tullian appears to be one.  But, it's not about Zahl or Tullian, it's about the grace of God as manifested in their lives and proclaimed by them.  It's about the God/man who desired to have a direct (non-mediated) relationship with his children.  So, He came and lived among us, died for us, and rose that we might live.

Luther (Idris Elba's character) and God's Justice

Good art is good art--whether it's secular or non-secular.  Good art accesses our emotions and opens our minds to understanding more about ourselves, God, our relationships with others, etc.

SPOILER ALERT.  In Luther, you wind up rooting for a woman that apparently killed both her parents--Alice.  You root for Alice, because she is a figure of justice.  When Luther is wrongly accused of murdering his ex-wife, Alice helps him set things right--they kill the perpetrator--someone who was supposedly Luther's most loyal friend on the force.  Season 2 ends with John having liberated a young woman from the clutches of a grand dame gangster, but is she free--is she truly free?  John approaches the gangster and tells her that he has called a friend and that, if she ever touches a hair on Jenny's head, John's friend will "come for her with the wrath of God and everything she has ever loved." It is a moment of catharsis--Jenny (and John) will now be free.  Jenny: "You didn't really do that did you--call up some totally psycho killer girl."  John:  "Her name is Alice. What do you think?"  Jenny: "I think you're totally epic."

Sometimes, I want God's justice to be like Alice's.  I want a "totally psycho killer girl friend" who I can use to threaten others--to dispense justice (my view of justice).  Of course, God is not a "totally psycho killler" like Alice--or is He?  He certainly sounds like one in many instances in the OT.  Perhaps God is perfect and, therefore, perfectly righteous in his murders.  Perhaps it's not even murder since it's God doing it.  We want the bad guys to get theirs--and we are told that they will get it in the end.  Sometimes, we're told, they will even get it (receive their just reward) before Judgment Day.

Is this the way of God's justice?  Is He simply a perfect Alice?  Or, based upon the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, might God's justice be different--wholly different from man's view of justice.

What if God's perfect justice is forgiveness?  I dare to say that it is--for at least a couple of reasons: 1)what the Devil (or we sinners) want least of all (or maybe most of all--down deep where we don't even recognize it) is to be forgiven:  and 2)justice is an endless game if it is based upon vengeance and retribution--there is no finality.

First, consider the vagaries of generational sin.  I've seen it played out in mine and countless others families.  One of the most poignant displays was the suicide of a good friend--both of whose parents had died by suicide.  How is the Devil defeated in this scenario?  It's not by punishing the Devil with 100 lashes or hanging (like the sadistic Muslims in Sudan), it's by having the next generation not commit suicide.  It's by having Ellis' children understand that using anger is not the way to manage people.  It's by having Debbie's children raising their children under a non-critical spirit.  In other words, true justice is giving the Devil the reverse of what he wants.

Second, giving the Devil the reverse of what he wants puts an end to the endless game of harm and retribution.  I also came to this realization watching Luther.  In Season 2, two brothers are playing a game by murdering folks.  There is no end to the game.  Luther outsmarts both of them, and he stops them.  Would Jesus outsmart them by playing the game better than them?  No, Jesus refused to play the game.  Jesus did not enter into a cycle of sin and retribution (which is exactly what these men wanted--which is exactly what the Devil wants).  Instead, Jesus put an end to the cycle by letting the Devil and we sinners kill Him.  We killed the perfect one, but He didn't stay dead.  In His death and resurrection, Jesus pronounced an end to the cycle of sin.  When someone harms me, and I seek retribution, the game just goes on.  When someone harms me, and I forgive, the cycle is broken.  You can't play if the other guy won't.

Of course, we all know instances where we have to set boundaries with others.  I'm not saying that wives shouldn't get restraining orders from husbands who are seeking to do them harm--she should.  I am saying that, while the wife should be truthful with the children, she shouldn't villainize the other spouse to the children.  The other's actions speak for themselves.

I'm not saying that we shouldn't put dangerous people behind bars.  What I am saying is that, when we do, the prisons shouldn't be overcrowded and run by gangs.  The prisoners should be treated humanely.  What might keep them from going back is feeling remorse.  What won't keep them from going back is thinking that prison is too Hellish.  Next time, when they go back, they will just go back tougher.

So, I'm suggesting that one way to reconcile Jesus' life and teachings with the idea of God's justice is to consider that God's justice is carried out through forgiveness.  Indeed, perhaps those were some of the last words that Jesus left us with:  "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do."  You will have to answer the question for yourself--was Jesus just forgiving the actual persons who hung Him on the Cross or was He forgiving all of mankind for our actions (past, present, and future) in placing Him on the Cross?  If it's the latter, it seems to be the last word on God's perfect justice.

"Can You See the Real Me?" Being known at church (or elsewhere).

Just this week, a former children's minister within Sovereign Grace Ministries was sentenced to prison for years and years of child abuse--abuse which persons within the church ignored and covered up.  Why?

Friday, I met a man at the ATM whose girl friend just left him after they began attending a fundamentalist church--one of my former churches.  He was heartbroken.  Why?

Because you can't really be known at most churches!

At most churches, parishioners place their pastors on pedestals--which St Paul rebuked the Corinthians for doing.  They (we, me) want someone that we can latch onto that seems to have it together.  It's like we're confused Prostestants--we actually want a mediator with Jesus.  We want a mediator, because we are taught to hide our real selves from one another at church and, therefore, we learn to hide our real selves from God.  So, we want a pastor who can present himself holy and unblemished before Jesus on our behalf.  That's why churches cover up child abuse.  Of course, the congregants tell themselves that they don't want to bring dishonor upon Christ or the church.  But that's not it, they don't want to bring dishonor upon themselves!


In Quadrophenia, Pete Townsend begins with the song about being known--"Can you see the real me?"  As the album rocks along, Townsend writes about the conflict inherent within all of us:  "Schizophrenic, I'm bleeding quadrophenic."  But, when we go to church, we generally show one side of ourselves--the bright, shiny face of someone who has it together and whose family has it together.  If the pastor has to be unblemished, then so do the congregants.  We wear masks--we're not known--no one sees the "real us."


Remarkably, they don't do this at some churches.  Recently, I heard a sermon from Tullian Tchividjian in which he said that he was disgusted with himself.  He didn't want to go to his daughter's dance recital  (as guys, we've all been there).  He then became convicted that all he thinks about is himself.  He was disgusted that he wakes up thinking about himself and goes to sleep thinking about himself.  This is the type of self-revelation, of honest preaching, that can actually change people.  This is the type of church that won't cover up child abuse.  This is the type of church where congregants can be known.

When we are known, all kinds of crazy things happen--people forgive one another, wives stay with their husbands, husbands stay with their wives, children love their parents, parents love their children--long-dead relationships are made new!  We actually begin to enjoy our estranged siblings or parents.  Our children become friends with our friends.  And when this happens, as Pete concluded Quadrophenia:  "Love, reign[s] over me."

Bad Bible Blunders, Spufford & DFW--Where do we find hope?

David Foster Wallace ("DFW") wrote that irony was killing American art.  Irony, which was designed to reveal the tyranny of conventionalism and sentimentalism, instead has become tyrannical.  If an artist portrays hope, redemption, or faith in his or her work, he or she is deemed a sentimentalist or, worse yet, a non-realist--someone who sticks their head in the sand.  This has led to a loss of faith, increased cynicism, and a marked increase in suicide in America.

Does the church have an answer?  Most don't.  Many, if not most, American churches propagate Bad Bible Blunders.  (I love this term--it comes from Aaron Zimmerman.  However, the ideas expressed in this post are not Aaron's.  So, don't blame him.  Instead, go to the St Albans Waco website and listen to his wonderful sermon by this name.)  In American churches, we usually see one of two theological paths--vapid sentimentalism or legalism/moralism.  Neither of these paths embraces the reality of Christianity.

Christianity is not sentimental--it is realistic.  Its leader met people directly in the midst of their sorrows and sins.  He didn't shy away from leprosy, blindness, or even death.  He ate and mingled with sinners.  In Jesus' day, if you ate with a sinner, you were accused of condoning their sin.  Jesus ate and/or mingled with criminals, tax collectors, adulteresses, the poor, the half-breeds, the no-breeds, and all manner of social outcasts.  Jesus confronted the "church" leaders of his day--revealing their hypocrisy--their abject failure to love the sinners, the outcasts, the poor.  This got Him killed.  Christianity is anything but sentimental.

The other path reflecting Bad Bible Blunders is moralism/legalism.  In Unapologetic, Frances Spufford clearly distinguishes Christianity from its two related religions--Judaism and Islam.  In Spufford's words, Judaism and Islam are like "wearable coats"--if you devote time and energy to keeping their tenets, you can be a reasonably good person.  This is the hallmark of moralism--you can be a "good" person.  In contrast, Christianity "makes frankly impossible demands.  Instead of asking for specific actions, it offers general but lunatic principles.  It thinks you should give your possessions away, refuse to defend yourself, love strangers as much as your family, behave as if there is no tomorrow."  But there's a further distinction--"You could pauperise yourself, get slapped silly without fighting back, care for lepers all day, laugh in the face of futures markets, and it still wouldn't count, if  you did it for the wrong reasons."  Wow, how often do preachers and we believers "water down" the Christian message so that it is a "wearable coat" instead of "lunatic principles."

If the church is to respond to the cynicism and loss of faith in America, if the church is to be a source of hope, it must confront the reality of living in a fallen world and respond with the hope found in an impossible, lunatic love ethic--that of Jesus Christ.  No more sentimentalism.  No more moralism.  Just the pure love of Jesus for all of us who hurt, worry, are sick, dying, lost, and down-heartened.  DFW committed suicide.  Let's pray that the American church corrects its Bad Bible Blunders.  Only that correction will provide the answer to DFW's prophetic writing.

A Fresh Look at the Gospel--Grand Budapest Hotel

SPOILER ALERT--THE REASON FOR MUSTAFA'S OWNERSHIP OF THE HOTEL IS REVEALED.

About two years ago, I was reading the parables of the Kingdom in my Scofield Bible, and I had a breakthrough.  My current pastor has preached that, if we think we have Jesus figured out, then we are worshipping the wrong Jesus/God.  Thankfully, he's right.  The depths of the Gospel can never be completely plumbed.  I will get to the Scriptures in a moment, but first Wes Anderson's take on one of these parables.

At the beginning of the movie, the pre-war luxury and extravagance of the Hotel is revealed to have been dissipated.  Now, the Hotel is but a shell of its former self.  The once fine furnishings are now shabby.  The once fanatical level of service has been replaced by lackluster service.  The once full Hotel is now relegated to having just a few guests.  One of these guests is the current owner of the Hotel--an elderly gentleman named Mustafa.  Interestingly, Mustafa stays in one tiny room--no larger than a servant's quarters--we later learn it was the servant's quarters that he occupied when he was Lobby Boy.

At the end of the movie, Mustafa is questioned why he still owns the Hotel.  Mustafa had inherited a vast empire--two magnificent estates (castles, really) and endless factories.  Now, he owns only this run-down hotel.  Mustafa (paraphrasing): "Once the new government took over, I struck a deal to relinquish my castles and factories in exchange for keeping the Hotel."  Query to Mustafa:  "Did you do that because of your fondness for Monsieur Gustav."  Mustafa:  "No, I did it because of Agatha."  At this point, I got choked up and began digging my nails into my palms so I wouldn't sob in the middle of the theater.

Later, Debbie asked why that part of the movie made me so emotional.  Here's why.

Agatha and Mustafa married at a very young age.  She was the one love of his life.  He sold everything (his vast empire) to hold onto his least valuable asset--but it was a treasure to Mustafa because of its connection to Agatha.  Agatha was Mustafa's "treasure in the field."

Which brings us to Scofield's explanation of the "treasure in the field" parable.  The parable is used to explain the characteristics of the kingdom.  How better to understand the kingdom than to understand the character of the king.

I've always been taught that the "treasure in the field" is the Kingdom--that once we find Jesus, we view Jesus/Kingdom as a treasure and sell everything to buy the field so that we can have the treasure located there.  Is this good news--that we have to sell everything?

Scofield says that we are the treasure.  That's right--the treasure is us.  God views us as a treasure.  God sells everything (His Son) to buy the field in which we are buried.  Jesus gives His life for us,   because we are like a treasure to Him.  If you look at the other "seeking the lost" parables, God is the actor and we are the "lost" item.  So, it seems clear that we are the treasure--that the creator of the Universe--of trillions of galaxies containing trillions of solar systems--views each of us individually as treasures.

In viewing each of us as treasures, God does so with full knowledge of our brokenness, our selfishness, our pride, and our pious religiosity or irreligiosity.  God sees into the darkest corners of our hearts.  Jesus attached the idea of sin to thoughts (going radically beyond the concept of sin held by the Pharisees), so our thoughts should condemn us time and again before God.  But rather than judging us, God forgives our sins and views us as treasures.  This view of the Gospel seems too radical to be true.  Yet, if Mustafa could love Agatha that much, then maybe, just maybe, God can love us that much.  This is truly good news.

The Man in the Crowd

Francis Spufford: "When I pray, I am not praying to a philosophically complicated absentee creature.  When I manage to pay attention to the continual love song, I am not trying to envisage the impossible domain beyond the universe.  I do not picture kings, thrones, crystal pavements, or any of the possible cosmological updatings of these things.

I look across, not up;  I look into the world, not out or away.  When I pray, I see a face, a human face among other human faces.  It is a face in an angry crowd, a crowd engorged by the confidence that is is doing the right thing, that it is being righteous.

The man in the middle of the crowd does not look virtuous.  He looks tired and frightened and battered by the passions around Him.  But he is the crowd's focus and centre.  The centre of everything in fact, because if you are a Christian you do not believe that the characteristic action of the God of everything is to mould the course of the universe powerfully from afar.  For a Christian, the most essential thing God does in time, in all of human history, is to be the man in the crowd; a man under arrest, and on his way to our common catastrophe."

It's Unloseable--the Love of God

David Zahl describes the love of God as "unloseable."  Is this so?  Can we lose the love of God?  Not according to the Bible.

Can theft separate us from God?  No--Jacob stole his brother's birth right.

Can adultery separate us from the love of God?  No--see King David and Bethsheba.

Can murder separate us from the love of God?  No--see King David and Uriah, or St. Paul and his killing of Christians.

Did Jesus say that any of these sins could separate us from God?  No.

Indeed, the only sin that Jesus seemed to proclaim that separated us from God was self-righteousness.
Jesus never said that thieves, adulterers, or even murderers were destined for Hell.  No, according to Jesus, if anyone was going to Hell it was the Pharisees--the self-righteous church people of his day.

I'm sympathetic to the Pharisees.  The Pharisees were trying to maintain order--which is no small task given the unruly hearts of men and women.  But if we are to read literally Jesus' pronouncements about Hell, and being separated from God, they point to the so-called "good" people, not the sinners.

I think Jesus was right.  If I look at my heart when I was a "good church-going person," and compare it to now, I actually love people a little more, sometimes a lot more.  Now that I believe that Jesus came for sinners, I'm free to look my sin directly in the eye.  With the grace of Christ, I can stare it down--it's not a pretty sight.  Most importantly, I can look at its impact on others.

When I was a "good church person" (a Sunday School teacher, deacon, a person there every time they opened the doors), instead of acknowledging the harmful impacts of my anger and lust on others, I simply downplayed them.  It wasn't my problem.  There wasn't anything wrong with me.  The problem lay with those around me.

Now that I truly, deeply know that God is the friend of sinners--that His love is unloseable--I'm able to look at the negative consequences of my nature and actions.  This new-found freedom to embrace the negative consequences of my sin has led to deep loving relationships.  It has led to significant "amendment of life."  I'm not bragging--it's what others have told me.  But I'm not home yet.  While I'm a member of the Kingdom, the Kingdom is not fully realized.  In this in between time, I'll continue to sin and sin deeply.  But the grace is that I can look at myself in the mirror, acknowledge these sins, repent, and seek forgiveness from those that I sin against.

My God, instead of remaining aloof, came, walked upon this earth, entered into suffering, expressed solidarity with mankind in the difficulties of being human, and let the "good church people" of his day kill him.  Had I been there, I would have joined the crowd that said:  "Crucify Him."  His words from the Cross reflects that He forgave even the "good church people:"  'Father forgive them for they know not what they do.'

So, maybe, just maybe, the "church people" will be with God in eternity, along beside the thieves, murderers, and adulterers.  If Jesus' words from the Cross mean anything then there is hope for the self-righteous, like me.

Proselytizing--Not!--Part 2 (Christianity's closest kin)

Christians tend to view Judaism and Islam as its closest kin.  If by kin, we mean our blood relations with whom we fight over our differences, they are correct.  If by kin, we mean those with whom we share common interests and beliefs, they are wrong.  Based upon my conversations with Evangelicals, Roman Catholics, Jewish friends, Muslim friends, and my brother-in-law (an Eastern mystic), I would have to say that Christianity's closest kin is Eastern mysticism.  Maybe I'm wrong about this, but try proclaiming "sola gratia," "passive righteousness," "one way love," "no free will," and "sovereignty over suffering and evil" to most religious people, and they get "mad as hell."  When I discussed this with my brother-in-law Marty (Jewish heritage but So. Cal. surfer and artist), we agreed on all of these things.  (By the way, Marty is one of the hardest working people that I know.  You see, he is free to work hard, because his standing before God is not dependent upon his success or failure.)

I was listening to a Q&A with David Zahl and his friend, Jacob Smith, this week about Christian freedom.  "For freedom, Christ has set us free."  (Gal. 5:1) David queried:  "What is Christian freedom?  What has Jesus freed us from?"  David then goes on to postulate possible answers (paraphrasing):  "Are we free to do as we please?  Possibly.  Are we free from the law?  Yes.  But what we're really free from is self."  This is exactly what Marty says.  This is exactly what has happened to me as I have come to know Jesus.  God has in large measure, although not totally, set me free from self.  Had God not, I would still be enmeshed in self-righteousness and its related sins of lust and alcoholism.

Why do so many Evangelical leaders commit adultery? The list is endless--from Ted Haggard to Bob Coy.  While it is a moral failure, it doesn't stem so much from their "lack of moral integrity" as from their "believing that they have moral integrity." They believe that they are "keeping the law" and "pleasing God."  The burden of keeping the law leads them to medicate with women and/or alcohol.  God has put a deep desire in men for sex to keep the human race going.  When one is otherwise "keeping the law," one feels justified in indulging in this deep desire.  This is why so many Evangelicals wind up committing adultery.  They are self-focused:  "How am I doing? I'm doing good."  They are living under the law.

In contrast, when one is not living under the law, when one is not working to keep God happy,  one's burdens are light and self-medication is not necessary.  Jesus said that He came to lift our burdens and that His burden is light.  Only when we view God's burden as light can we ever expect to keep the law without becoming self-righteous.  If it's a heavy burden, then shouldering that burden leads to the greatest sin--self-righeousness.  If you think I'm wrong about this, just listen to Jesus.  His two great themes were the Kingdom of God (where burdens are light),  and the poverty of self-righteousness (white-washed tombs).  If you think I'm wrong about Eastern mysticism, watch Kung Fu Hustle by Stephen Cho and listen to his interview afterwards.  If you replace "chi" with Holy Spirit, Cho is speaking Christianity.

For my Evangelical friends, I'm not saying that practitioners of Eastern mysticism are "closet Christians," but I'm looking into it.  Maybe Christians are "closet Eastern mysticists."

P.S.  "In God, we find all joy and meaning."--Marty

My abject failure at proselytizing--Part 1

Jesus was an enigma in many, many ways.  He told his disciples to go "therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you." Matt. 28:19-20, the so-called "Great Commission."

Yet, earlier in Matthew, we read that Jesus told the Pharisees: " But woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!  For you travel across sea and land to make a single proselyte, and when he becomes a proselyte, you make him twice as much a child of hell as yourselves."  (One of the seven woes)  Matt. 23:15.  Yet, the scribes and the Pharisees were the believers of Second Temple Judaism.  They were the ones who tried to keep the Mosaic law.  They were the "church goers" so to speak.

My Christian friends are going to say that you reconcile these two passages, because the "woe" preceded conversion of an individual to Christ, and the "Great Commission" succeeded it.  This is a possible interpretation.  In fact, this may be the best interpretation.  But viewing my own soteriological history, and how it affected others, I have another interpretation.

Growing up Southern Baptist, it was my God-ordained duty to convert others to Christianity--to follow the Great Commission.  I told everyone about Jesus.  Folks at my church thought I was going to be a preacher.  That's how vociferous I was in carrying out the Great Commission.  For thirty (30) years, it never worked.  In hindsight, those thirty years were three lost decades--thirty years without the Holy Spirit.  In hindsight, I did not truly know the Jesus of the Bible.  In hindsight, the Jesus that I was proclaiming was not the God that is revealed in Scripture, but rather the wrong Jesus that is proclaimed in most "Christian" pulpits.

Only after I ceased trying to carry out the Great Commission did some of my friends come to believe that Jesus was God.  None of these so-called conversions resulted from my proselytizing.  Some of these conversions were nothing short of miraculous.  I didn't do anything except befriend them.  In some cases, they befriended me.  I didn't seek them out to try to share Jesus with them.  Rather, we were or became friends.  I didn't purport to have any sage advice about God to pass along.  Instead, I listened to what they had to say about their families, work, their hopes and dreams.

As our friendships deepened, they asked about Jesus.  They were the ones to bring Him up.  They knew that I was a Christian, but I didn't beat them over the head with it.  It turns out that we all have broken hearts--broken over this fallen world, broken over our own sinfulness, broken over death, broken over sick children, broken over difficult marriages, broken over sibling rivalries, broken over difficult fathers and mothers.  As we shared our hearts with one another, Jesus became the answer.  I didn't have to tell anyone that Jesus was the answer.  As we discussed life in this world, there was only one answer--the friend of sinners who experienced all of the difficulties that this world has to offer.

"Unapologetic," "Wearable Coats," Cracks, and the Light

Thanks to David Zahl and Mockingbird, I bought Francis Spufford's "Unapologetic" a few months ago.  The book sounded so good that I ordered it from a British publisher before it made it to America.  However, I made the mistake of trying to read this book in bed before going to sleep each nite.  This book deserves my full attention in the light of day.

Now, I'm on vacation and reading "Unapologetic" since Spufford is going to speak at the Mockingbird Conference next week.  Spufford gets true Christianity like so few modern writers who supposedly are "Christian" writers.  (Many modern authors understand Christianity--it's just not usually the ones who claim to be Christians).  His writing courageously describes the human condition as HPtFtU, the "Human Propensity to F... Things Up."  He says that "we actually want the destructive things we do, that they are not just an accident that keeps happening to poor little us, but part of our nature: that we are truly cruel as well as truly tender, truly loving and at the same time likely to take a quick nasty little pleasure in wasting or breaking love, scorching it knowingly up as the fuel for some hotter or more exciting feeling."  Talk about nailing "original sin"--the inward war that we all encounter.

But there's more, because you can't stop with the diagnosis of the human condition, or we would all commit suicide.  He describes the main difference between Christianity and every other religion.  He says that every other religion prescribes a code of conduct--a "wearable coat,"  which if you follow means that you are a reasonably good person.  If you don't, you're not.  In contrast, Christianity sets the bar at perfection.  No one can love God with all of their heart.  No one can love their neighbor as themselves.  "But now notice the consequence of having an ideal behavior not sized for human lives: everyone fails.  Christianity maintains no register of clean and unclean."  This is Good News, wonderful news, the "best" news.  If we all fail, then we all realize that we need help from outside ourselves.  Spufford then quotes Leonard Cohen, "We do entirely agree that there's a crack in everything.  (That's how the light gets in?  Oh yes; that most of all.)"

Augustine said much the same thing: "Of felix culpa (oh felicitous sin)."  Augustine was pointing out that it is our realization of our fallenness, our inward 'kinkedness," that leads us to God.  But for the cracks, the light wouldn't get in.

I lived most of my life wearing the coat of a "good Southern Baptist."  Wait, that's not fair to Southern Baptists.  I lived most of my life wearing the coat "of a morally good person."  The problem with trying to be a "morally good person" is that:  a)you have to determine what is morally correct in every situation (which is challenging to say the least);  b)you have to try to do it (which is incredibly burdensome);  and c)half the time you feel self-righteous (thinking you're accomplishing it) and half the time you're despondent (when you realize that you aren't).  This is no way to run a life.

The burden of "living a good moral life" almost took my life (I thought about killing myself every day for about a year); almost cost me my family (Debbie--"if it weren't for the kids, I would leave you");  and kept me at a distance from God.  In contrast, acknowledging the "cracks" in one's life allows the "light" in.   Only through the power of the light have I been able to live a reasonably "moral" life without being either self-righteous or despondent all of the time.  Of course, both still creep in.  But, praise God, most of the time I'm just thankful to be a cracked vessel, relying upon the daily (even hourly) light of Christ.

Cops, Preachers, and Grace

"When will I ever learn that Christ's kingdom is upside down."--Ellis

This morning, I saw a Birmingham policeman at Starbucks and offered to buy his coffee.  Being a policeman in Birmingham is dangerous and probably often thankless.  He declined.  After he declined, I got my coffee and then approached him.  I told him:  "I'm so thankful for cops.  My uncle was a cop, and my father (his brother) was a preacher.  I've always thought that the two toughest jobs are being a cop and a preacher, because you have to deal with people all of the time."

Sadly, once again, I said the wrong thing.  I'm always doing that.  I'm wired to do that.  While what I said was true, it wasn't life-giving.  It left him right where he was having to deal with difficult people in a job that our society no longer esteems.  Debbie is always telling me that I'm naturally critical, and she's right.  I first see what's wrong with a situation.  Once upon a time, I never got beyond what's wrong with the world.  Thanks to my many truly Christian friends, and God working through them, I now see what's right with the world in difficult situations.

I never heard my father grouse about being a preacher.  In fact, he seemed to dearly love his job of ministering to and loving others.  Certainly, he loved his last job when he was the chaplain at Partlow, the state school for those who were mentally challenged, e.g., Downs Syndrome, etc.

The same with my uncle.  I never heard him complain about being a policeman.  In fact, he must have loved his job, because those on the force called him "Papa Bear."  You don't get a nickname like that unless you are seen as being a benevolent person.

So, my father and my uncle understood that they were fortunate to be able to deal with people daily.  They were fortunate to have servant-type jobs.  They were blessed in ways that I am only able to grasp in a small way as an attorney.

They were, and are, members of Christ's kingdom--one in which the true riches are found not in high-paying jobs, but in jobs where love, care, and even protection are bestowed upon the "least of these."

This is what I should have said to the Birmingham policeman.

Unlearning church-speak about sin

"If you don't forgive others, God won't forgive you."

"Your sin is separating you from the love of God."

"God is just waiting on you to turn back to Him so that He can love you."

"You can't draw near to God while you're in sin."

If any of these statements (that I heard all of my life in church) are true, then I'm doomed.  If I have to "straighten up my act" or "get it right," then I have no hope.  Perhaps more importantly, if any of these things are true (if I'm capable of forgiving others first;  if I'm capable of casting aside my sin) then why did Jesus die?

Do we, as parents--who love very poorly compared to God, stop loving our children because of their sinful behavior?

Are we waiting constantly (maybe not patiently, but constantly) for our children to return to us?

Does the sin of our children cause us to turn away from them?

No.  Nor does our sin cause God to turn His back on us.  God is constantly, and patiently, loving us. God isn't shaking His finger at us, or saying:  "tsk, tsk."  In fact, the only reason that God wants us to stop sinning is for our own good.  It's not so that God can love us--He already does.  Our sin doesn't separate us from His love--at least from God's perspective.

Sometimes, maybe oftentimes, our love separates us from God--but only from our perspective.   We don't want to go to God in our shame, in our helplessness, in our despair.  We want to get it right before we turn to Him.  When this is our view, the day of turning back to Him never comes.

As a friend of mine said to her husband, upon hearing PZ preach for the first time:  "Wow, Christianity is 'sola gratia' not "sola bootstrapa.'"  She further said to him:  "Why have we never heard this in the church?"  They immediately joined the Advent.

This is why I go to church--to have it proclaimed that I can't out-sin God's love, that He never turns His back on me, that He is never surprised nor disheartened by my sin.  Then, and only then, does my sinful nature lessen.  It lessens not because of admonition, shame, or exhortation.  Rather, it lessens out of thankfulness to the One who never turns His back on me--whose character is always to have mercy--the One that came to earth to ensure that I fully understand this message of One Way love.

My dialogue with atheists/agnostics--Part 2--a response

Obviously, if one stops with merely questioning God, one's life is hellish.  (Actually, all of our lives are hellish, but some are more than others.)  Can we live in hellish surroundings with peace and joy? Yes, but only if we come to believe in a loving, providential God.  "Taste Him and see that He is good."

Thesis 1--God is providential.  When James was 7, I told him the story of how Joseph was sold into slavery in Egypt, how his father (Jacob) and brothers were then saved from the famine, how the descendants of Jacob became the nation of Israel while enslaved in Egypt.  James's response:  "My gosh, we're God's chess pieces."

Thesis 2--God is good.  A friend of mine recently expressed her exasperation with her prayer group at church:  "If we pray for someone's 115 year old aunt again, I'm going to scream.  If we believe in heaven, maybe we shouldn't be praying for her good health.  I want to pray about real issues--broken marriages, unloving parents, etc."  Indeed, do we believe in heaven--or stated more helpfully to me--"Do we believe in a loving eternal God?  If so, we can believe that He wants to spend eternity with us."  (This idea came from Tim Keller).  So, ultimately every tear is going to be dried from our faces.

Answer--"Taste and see that He is good."  One of my best friends growing up has had much more death in his immediate family than me.  He doesn't profess Christianity--he is Jewish.  But he believes in a merciful God.  He told me that if God is not for us, then we're screwed anyway.  So, he chose to believe that God is for us.  Then, as he lived his life with this belief, he came to find that it is true.  Indeed, he is not offended by Jesus, and probably understood Jesus' radicality more than I did for years.  My friend told me that he received a Christmas present this year--"a pope that actually lives out what Jesus said."

My dialogue with atheists/agnostics--Part 1--greater love for God

I was telling a Christian friend of mine about how helpful my dialogue has been with some of my atheist/agnostic friends.  The dialogue obviously centers around whether there is a God and, if so, is he good?  My friend said that this question is one of those freshman-dorm type questions--one which can't be proven one way or the other.  Therefore, why discuss it?

In discussing this issue with atheists and agnostics, I have heard their plaintive cries--which have become my plaintive cries:  If there is a God, why God why?  Why is the world so f___'ed up?  Why doesn't my wife love me?  Why is my boss an asshole?  Why is my child mentally retarded? If there is a God, why did he allow Hitler to slaughter my people?

I never had this depth of emotion before.  I said blithely: "Jesus died to save me.  Therefore, everything is going to be okay." While true, it is superficial.  While true, it is only lip-speak.  If you don't acknowledge and grapple with your broken heart, then you will never fully know Jesus.

Atheists and agnostics are willing to discuss these difficult issues, because it is these very issues which cause them either to reject or to doubt God.  But the same is true for Christians.  We all doubt God's goodness at some point, often at many points.  Yet, for years, this seemed to be a taboo topic for me.  It's not taboo for atheists and agnostics.

As I have discussed this world's brokenness, the inhumanity of man towards man, it has taken it's emotional toll upon me.  But rather than ignoring or dealing superficially with this difficult "freshman-dorm" question, I have come to believe more than ever before that this radical, enigmatic, friend to the sinners is the only answer.  He is the only answer, because He reveals that God's disposition towards man is one of mercy.  God has lived through, embraced fully, this fallen world.  God has been the victim of this fallen world.  Yet, He is our friend--a friend of sinners.  Yet, He brings us life--now and forevermore.

Praise God for those who question Him.  For only they can come to truly know Him in all of His mercy and grace.