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."
Sunday, April 20, 2014
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.
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.
Saturday, April 12, 2014
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
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.
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.
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