"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.

Hope for the dying (which is everyone)--mercy times 490

"Jesus, how often shall I forgive? 70 times 7."

Proclaiming forgiveness for those who killed Him: "Father forgive them for they know not what they do."

In Paul Zahl's latest book, "PZ's Panopticon," Zahl says that the primary word from God is mercy--and not just mercy to some--but mercy to all.  Zahl writes his book from the view of a person who is having a "near death" experience.  The thesis is: what do different religions have to say to a person who is near death?  With Christianity, the message is one word--mercy.

Zahl seeks to unearth this message from the 2000 years of subjugation, minimalization, obfuscation, and bastardization that this message has received from the Church and others  (These are my words, not Zahl's).  Zahl, as always, says it in a more compelling fashion than anyone else:

"Christianity seems almost 'tailor made' to be a help in time of need for people like our main character, near dead and spelling out a message of invincible pain.  But Christianity is often understood as the opposite of that.  In fact, so different has Christianity become in presentation from what it is in essence, that the contrast could almost make you believe in the existence of Satan. What?

To our near-dead victim of life, it is not likely that he has known Christianity to be anything other than the Grouch-Religion of the world.  He has probably been so shaped by the invisible force-field of attitudes and assumptions that surrounds him, that he has barely been able to give a hearing to Christianity in its core form, which is a religion of mercy and forgiveness.

I said "Satan" above--and I mean by that, something malicious, a dog in the manger, a "horse with no name (America)--because it becomes malice when a genuine possibility of help is actively prevented from getting to where it is needed.  It is like blocking the road to a fire so that the fire-engines can't get through...

The mercy intrinsic to the teachings of Christ is something that is there from the beginning to the end.  It is the crowning feature of what turned into the world's most populous religion.

For quite a few people, there is something upsetting about the 100%-with-no-exceptions forgiveness that Jesus talked about.  It is a feature that upsets conservatives.  But it also upsets liberals.  There is something in it to offend everybody.  Except the person who needs it at the time."

This is Ellis again--to all of my friends and, indeed, anyone reading this--May you know the 100% with-no-exceptions forgiveness that God has proclaimed through the birth, life, death, and resurrection of His only-begotten Son.

Fear: King Ahaz's and Our Unholy Alliances, and God's Peculiar Response

I have new-found respect for Barbara Walters.  She acknowledged, much to the chagrin of many of her friends, that she and others had thought that Obama would be the "messiah."  That's right, she used the word "messiah" to denote a political leader.  But it's not only liberals who think that the right political leader will lead his or her people into a new land of prosperity and/or equality.  The Republicans felt the same way about Ronald Reagan.  Many would exhume Reagan from the grave if life could be breathed back into him.

In looking to a political leader as the "messiah," what is motivating people?  Chiefly fear.  We want a political leader to protect us from things we fear: poverty, terrorism, inequality, threats and injustice of all manner.  But fear motivates us not only in our choice of political leaders, but in all aspects of life.

Due to fear, we work too many hours--placing our work above relationship with our families.

Due to fear, we "helicopter" parent our children--leading to self-focused, incompetent teenagers and adults.

Due to fear, we make unholy alliances supporting splinter groups in the Middle East who now turn our weapons upon us.

Due to fear, we seek human remedies, not divine ones.

Our shallow, faithless reactions to fear have plagued man since the Garden of Eden.  Remember the apple--it reflected man's desire to be his own savior.

In Isaiah 7, we learn that King Ahaz, king of the southern kingdom (Judah) was fearing an attack from the northern kingdom--Israel.  In order to protect his country, Ahaz made an alliance with Assyria--a pagan nation.

As PZ often preaches:  This really happened.  In fact, there is an obelisk in the British Museum which shows envoys from Judah bringing riches to the Assyrians to obtain their protection--protection against their own people--the Jews of the northern kingdom.  The Assyrians were a strong nation and greatly feared.  They also believed in child sacrifice.  So, Ahaz basically cut a deal with the devil to protect himself and his people.

At this point, Isaiah is given a word from the Lord to speak to Ahaz.  We would expect Isaiah to chastise Ahaz for his unholy alliance and to proclaim that God will fight Ahaz's battle if Ahaz will turn to God.  But this isn't what Isaiah says.  Isaiah instead proclaims the Gospel--the word of man's rescue by a Divine Being which we have heard since Genesis 3.

Isaiah proclaims to Ahaz and to the people of Judah:  "A virgin shall bear a child and his name shall be Emmanuel."  What a peculiar proclamation.  What a seemingly non-responsive, unhelpful word from God--a virgin birth of a child called Emmanuel.  How will a child protect the citizens of Judah from their neighbors to the north?

How would Ahaz have interpreted this?  Ahaz likely believed that Isaiah was proclaiming that a man would be borne who would solve Judah's problems from a worldly standpoint.  This was part of the Jewish messianic tradition.  This was Ahaz's concern (and not an improper one)--resolving the current problems of Judah.  He believed, like we all tend to believe, that the right man can save us--whether it be King David, King Solomon, Reagan, Obama, or Hillary.  This, thankfully, is not the word that we receive from God.

Instead of proclaiming a savior riding a white charger and leading God's army, Isaiah proclaims the birth of a child--from a virgin no less.  A birth which is from a virgin and, therefore, divine in origin.  God's entry into our world.  What's more, the name of the child would be Emmanuel--"God with us."  Isaiah was proclaiming that God would enter the world through a miraculous birth and would live amongst us.  No god had ever deigned to live amongst men.  No wonder Ahaz didn't understand the proclamation. We are fortunate that we have Jesus' birth and life.  We can see the true meaning through the rearview mirror of time.

Ahaz's salvation, and that of his people, would not come from a warrior king, but instead from a child king.  How could a child king save anyone?  He couldn't from a worldly standpoint.  But given his descent from the realm of the divine, he could save man from his greater problem--the fact that our presence in the worldly realm is very short-lived.  By joining us in this world, the child king can guide us into the next.  He can deliver us from the fears we experience in this life and the fear of what is to come.