BABY!

My very dear friends Reed and Bekah had their first child this week; a daughter, Evangeline Monroe. Here is a picture of me holding her. It's my sweater. You're gonna have to believe it's me wearing it.


I like the kid's style.

We Are His Servants

"Do you not understand that if any other person redeemed man from eternal death, man would rightly be reckoned as his servant?"

-Anselm of Canterbury, Cur Deus Homo, Chapter 5

Two Quotes From Calvin on Marriage and Singleness

Regarding those who make claim to having the gift of singleness,

"They cannot allege that they make this vow trusting entirely to the grace of God; for, seeing he declare this to be a special gift not given to all (Matthew 19:11), no man has a right to assume that the gift will be his."

-Institutes of the Christian Religion, IV.xii.17

And later,

"If any seem more decent and modest than others, they are not, however, chaste. The sin of unchastity urges, and lurks within. Thus it is that God, by fearful examples, punishes the audacity of men, when, unmindful of their infirmity, they, against nature, affect that which has been denied to them, and despising the remedies which the Lord has placed in their hands, are confident in their ability to overcome the disease of incontinence by contumacious obstinacy."

-Institutes, IV.xiii.21

A Prayer of Calvin

We bow ourselves before the majesty of our good God in acknowledgment of our offenses, asking that He may make us feel them more than we have done, so that we may make an effort to redeem ourselves more and more to His righteousness, daily fighting against the lusts of our flesh; and that we may continue in this struggle until He may have entirely delivered us and reformed us to His image, in which we were fully created. May He grant this grace not only to us but also to all people and nations on earth.

Friday, June 21, 1555
Sermon Six, Deuteronomy 5:13-15

Worship in the Church According to Colosians 3:16

As Listed by David Detwiler:

1. Worship is both horizontal and vertical
2. Worship is a means of instructing one another in the faith
3. Worship in the church should be primarily verbal
4. Worship should be primarily Christological
5. Worship in the church should be active, not passive
6. Worship should be varied in form
7. Worship should be marked by sincerity
8. Worship should reflect an understanding of God’s grace

Perhaps each of these should have a post of its own.

Measures of the Soul

[Given the neglect this blog has felt lately, I resort to shorter reflections for a time]

My Google research regarding the origins of the phrase "The eyes are the window to the soul" has failed. Seeing as I can't figure out why this aphorism sticks, I respond that, "The ear is the touchstone of the soul."

By ear, I mean musical tastes, and by touchstone, I mean that people's default, most comfortable mode is usually clearly reflected in their musical tastes. Personally, I love simplicity, beauty, and peace; I enjoy music that crafts tranquil mastery out of very little.

This topic begs reflection on the impact of using music to "medicate" moods. That is, whether it is a good thing to have a 'mix' for every passing disposition.

Love, Love, Love; Or, Three Prompts for Later

I've got a few blog entries that haven't made it past the mental moderator yet. I figure if my thoughts don't seem coherent to me, they certainly won't be edifying to you. So, here's a little list of things I have been considering recently that, if I had more time and mental energy, would be individual posts:

1. In Acts 10 God declares unclean animals clean. Peter interprets this through the lens of table fellowships to mean that Gentiles are being welcomed into the covenant community. Later, Paul exhorts Gentiles, though not morally bound to do so, to observe Jewish food laws. It strikes me as loving acts of considering the other greater than yourself on both ends of the deal.

2. I was impressed by how significant love for other believers is in Paul's first letter to the Thessalonians. It's directly linked to sanctification.

3. The church is a fantastic thing. I'm very thankful for it.

Five Things I "Learned" in Church Today

1. My only hope is new life in Jesus.
2. Jesus calls me to act with integrity.
3. To measure my life by the wisdom of God.
4. Purity is honoring to God—and for my good.
5. I have not fully learned these things, yet grace abounds.


I need exercise in brevity and clarity.

Sermon From Sunday

This is a lame excuse for a real post, but I did teach in College Group this previous Sunday. Find the sermon audio here.

It's All What You Ask

I'm in a bit of a hole in my Historical Theology Seminar. I'm setting out to write a paper on the soteriology and Christology of Clement of Alexandria. The trouble is, when I went in to run my thesis past my professor, he immediately noted that I was using anachronistic language in describing what I wanted to look at regarding Clement's Christology.

I was trying to use post-Nicean language to describe the theology of a man who lived two centuries before. To do so is not only unhelpful, but unfair. It is proper to judge Arius by Nicea; to judge Clement's theology by measures made centuries later does not even ask the right questions of Clement.

So as I regear my paper and despair at my failure to have realized this problem on my own, I relate this incidence to contextualization as a whole. I'm becoming continually more convinced that the main thing in life is asking the right questions. The problem with my thesis was not what I wanted to examine, but the questions I asked in that examination.

Just as stepping into the 2nd century requires me to gear up with different questions, so does every different ministry field, local or abroad. Learning to ask the right questions of people, of religins, and of institutions—now that's the rub.

Green Letter Bible

When I was younger I thought that red and green went well together. I would often be found wearing a bright red, Bucky Badger T-shirt with forest green sweatpants (I didn't wear jeans for most of my childhood. I found them uncomfortable). I thought that since they were Christmas colors, they must go well together. Thankfully, my sister has slowly educated me so that I now dress pretty well, at least when I care. I save the red and green combination for the exegesis students.

But now, red and green come together again. Red letters and green...letters. HarperCollins is going to make a buck or two by publishing this eco-friendly version of the Bible (it even uses soy-based ink). Just as there is a long-standing tradition of red letter Bibles with the words of Jesus in red (an approach to reading the Bible that is problematic in itself), this Bible simply puts in green any verse that relates to nature.

I only wonder whether the whole part about this earth passing away will be printed in green.

Calvin's Apt Humour

"It was a shrewd saying of a good old man, who when some one pertly asked in derision what God did before the world was created, answered, "He made a hell for the inquisitive."

John Calvin (quoting Augustine), Institutes of the Christian Religion, 1.13.1

Swindoll, Scripture, and Sufficiency

"I promise you I will do everything in my power to keep it from being boring, having sat through a lot of boring chapels in my life, I know the misery of that sort of thing.Every one of my three talks will start with a statement. It will then be followed by a story or an illustration that I hope drives that statement home. Then we'll glance at the Scriptures and see something in there that might tie in with the opening statement and the illustration and we'll close with another story, that's my plan."

So were Chuck Swindoll's first words in chapel at Wheaton College this fall. I want to say right up front, don't get me wrong: I have a lot of respect for Dr. Swindoll, and think that he preaches the Gospel.

But in this introductory paragraph to the three chapel talks he gave, I hear an approach toward preaching that betrays the text of Scripture as the normative, informative substance of teaching in the church. Swindoll is not teaching in the church when he speaks at Wheaton. He doesn't even neccessarily claim to be preaching. He's giving a talk. What I'm saying is that in Swindoll's introduction we hear an attitude not foreign to the churches of middle America over the last 20 years.

It's the "hip" churches of my parent's generation in which I grew up. Churches that weren't those churches that bored you when you were a kid. They weren't the fundamentalist churches that gave boring sermons about legalistic rules that didn't seem practical for today. At all costs, don't bore people. My personal irony is that I was always bored. I never quite saw why anything mattered.

What is revealed about Swindoll's doctrine of Scripture in this statement? Is it fair to say that, based on how he designs his talk, he believes that it will be the illustrations he gives that most powerfully drive home the statement he makes? I fear the message his outline gives is:

I. Thesis
II. Supporting Evidence
III. Related Ancient Text
IV. Final Supporting Evidence

What is being implicitly said about Scripture with such an approach as this? Scripture is not immediately applicable. It doesn't directly address our life. We have to bring it to bear by relating it to a pithy, non-biblical, easily applicable statement that is already twice illustrated by extra-biblical illustrations. It takes the Bible from being an organic narrative of God's faithfulness through the lives of countless saints to being no more than a book of proverbs, rules, and bland, removed theology.

I think the faults of this approach—which was all to common to my experiences with churches in the 90's—show why many people were ready for the Emergent movement (whatever it is). What parts of the emergent church realize is that stories do matter. Religion that is not organically and intricately tied into daily life does not captivate, transform—or matter. But rather than moving back to the biblical text to see these stories, the emergers took another step away, relying on their personal experiences rather than the normative force of God's word. They make the same mistake as Swindoll, only on a different level.

This is the point where I should have a perfect solution. Fail. But I do offer this: The Bible illustrates itself beautifully. The Bible is full of relatively pithy statements of profound truths, which are very helpful in teaching. Part of the duty of the teacher is to, by means of how he teaches, show that Scripture is what he says it is. That it carries sufficient knowledge for salvation. That it bears immediate weight and implications on our lives. That we can understand it. That it is worth working to learn, appreciate, and meditate upon.

I know you well enough to not like you.

The people I know and understand the best are, almost without fail, the ones who have the most ability to frustrate me. They are the ones whose faults I see the most clearly, and the ones who I often feel least inclined to forgive. The better I know someone, the easier it is to see their sins. And, seeing their sins, I have one of two reactions.

One is anger. I know that they are doing something wrong, and even if it not directly to me, I know the ramifications of it. But I know Romans 2, and I know that when I respond in this way, God's Word stands in condemnation against me. To consider these things in terms of how God sees me but for the blood of Jesus, I shudder in fear.

The other is love. When, by God's grace, I see my friends' sin with regenerated eyes, I respond in love. This can mean rebuke, but it is love. It seeks to restore. It seeks to build up. To consider these things in terms of how God sees me through the blood of Jesus, I am overwhelmed with thankfulness.

From Today's Readings...

"The willingness of prosperous Christians to renounce much of their worldly gain allowed the communities to support their needy members in ways that were both more generous and more personal than Rome could achieve with its bread and circuses."

Joyce E. Salisbury, Perpetua's Passion p. 73

Amidst my seemingly endless reading for the day, this little gem stuck out as a stark reminder of how Christians are supposed to care for their poor. Most of us can think to the scenes in Gladiator where the emperor sought to appease the masses through food handouts and massive productions in the Coliseum. Yet the generosity of the Christians is seen as more lavish than this.

Promises are made on both sides of the aisle during election season. The Church must remember than no candidate will take away our obligation to the poor. We do not wait for policy to change, we take the vanguard in action.

What I shared with my Church about my time in China.

Revelation 5 tells us that God has ransomed a people for his glory from every tribe, tongue, people, and nation. Jesus Christ is alone is declared worthy to bring to an end all the sin and suffering of this world because he has made these people a kingdom and priests to our God. And because of this, thousands of saints and angels worship Him, saying “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain!”

During my time in China, I saw clearly what this worship of Jesus demands of the Church now, and what it demands of me. Last November God used numerous means to call me to go on the STAMP China trip. I offered numerous reasons to avoid going on the trip, But God graciously removed from my life all the things I coveted rather than heeding his call.

During the four weeks I spent in China, I was able to share the Gospel with Han Chinese who had never heard the Gospel clearly proclaimed. I was able to visit an underground training school full of Chinese nationals with a zeal for the Gospel and for prayer that humbled me, because I have far too great a fear of man. I met a Muslim-Background believer who is, by all accounts, the first baptized follower of Jesus from his people. I saw God at work in more ways that I have time to recount now. But most of all, God opened my eyes to the truths of Scripture regarding God's people and their calling in this world.

After God scattered the people of the earth at Babel and made them into may nations, he called Abraham to be one through whom all the nations of the earth will be blessed. As the story of Salvation develops, this blessing comes ultimately through Abraham's descendant, Jesus. Through Jesus we have been made children of Abraham, and we have inherited the mission of being a blessing to the nations. At Babel the nations were scattered. In Jesus, God has called them back together as one people. We are given the honor—and responsibility—of having been made agents in the harvest of the nations.

My point is this: Scripture shows that I—and we— are not saved for the sake of ourselves. We are saved for the sake of the glory of Jesus. We are called out of darkness to be a light in the darkness. Each of us is called to consider the difficult question of whether we are to go. Each of us is called to prioritize our lives to support the mission of God. Each of us is called to labor in prayer for those who go.

God used my time in China to make the Scriptural call to go to the nations more clear to me. And it seems that He is calling me back to China in the near future. But STAMP China, and Scripture, and the stories I have told you, are not just about me. I pray that the reports you have heard today heighten your awareness of how God is restoring the nations to himself. I pray that you will seriously consider what the mission of God's people requires of you. The calling is not my own. As the body of Christ, we are united in this singular effort.

A common refrain on our trip was that after seeing what we had seen, our lives could not be the same. Now you, too, have heard the stories. How must your life change?

Reading the Bible

College Church is doing a summer series at the evening service on the Word of God. One sermon in particular has stuck in my mind over the last month. Ministry Resident (and now Pastor) Andrew Fulton taught on the perspicuity of Scripture.

Perspicuity is somewhat of an ironic word. It's an uncommon word whose meaning is unknown to many that means that Scripture's meaning is commonly available. The core of the message of perspicuity is that the essentials of faith are understandable to all in Scripture. While there are many things that are difficult issues of interpretation, the core message of salvation is consistently clear throughout Scripture.

Fulton discussed how group Bible Studies often progress. There are the intellectuals, who can make others think that you have to have an MA to read the Bible. And there are the argumentative types, who tend to focus in on every controversy possible. Of course, at the other end of the spectrum are those who read the Bible with so little nuance that they never feel the deep tensions that God uses to grow our roots deeper.

But the general negative tendency of Bible Studies as a whole is to focus so much on the difficulties of Scripture that we never affirm and internalize that which is perfectly clear. Yes, we need to work on the difficult portions of Scripture. And we need to have answers for the difficult questions of life. But many Bible Studies digress to only talking about the difficult sections. When people walk away from such a study, they are usually discouraged, lacking confidence that God's Word is perspicuous, and lacking the impetus to internalize anything. After all, they don't even know what the text is even saying.

This needs to shape how we lead Bible Studies, but also how we behave as participants. Participants that seek intellectual quarry will find just that in Scripture. But those who seek the clear Word of God, the message of salvation, will find the Gospel in its simplicity, but also in its depth that reaches and changes every aspect of life.

The Trip Home

Today was the Jordan canoe trip. The Jordans less my sister, plus my cousin Nate, who is visiting for a few weeks and will be in 10th grade in the fall. Nate and I make a pretty good Mario Kart team. We also dominated our kayaks. This is us before the trip. Before the torrential rain. Before the hail. Before Nate flipped his kayak. We came across some Boy Scouts before the rain hit. Let it be noted, they were no better prepared than we were.


However, things cleared up nicely this evening. This is the view from where I blog.


This is the view from where I was reading earlier.



And this is our BB gun. There are a few various rodents for whom the orders are to shoot first and let God sort them out. I'm a crack shot.



Why no one ever wants to come home with me, I do not know. I haven't even talked about my mom's food. She just put a rhubarb pie in the oven.

Natural Opportunities

One of the internal difficulties I had in China was that I was in China specifically for the purpose of sharing the Gospel with pretty much everyone I met. To me, it felt surprisingly insincere at times to move the conversation intentionally to a place where I could share the Gospel.

Sharing the Gospel is a great joy, even when it is not received warmly. But although I knew that sharing the truth and joy of Jesus with someone is ultimately the most loving thing one can do, I cannot help but sometimes think—from a human perspective—that my presentation of the Gospel is less loving, or even deceptive, because I am meeting people for that purpose alone. It just doesn't feel natural to me.

Another reason it can seem unnatural to share the Gospel is for lack of grounds for conversation or friendship. Awhile back I came across this blog entry by a Chicago area pastor. It has put me to thinking about how important it is to develop opportunities in our own lives where we can naturally show and tell the Good News.

I laughed to myself recently when a friend said in passing that she needed to have a favorite architect. The reason, ultimately, was for the sake of conversation with a friend who was interested in such things—an end which I would never ridicule. Or, another example is blogger and pastor Zach Nielson, who treasures his time playing jazz with local musicians as a means of natural friendship developmenet with non-believers.

While in the "bubble" of Wheaton College, I regularly struggled with what to make of my separation from non-believers. I wanted to have meaningful interactions with non-believers, but the spontaneous conversation never felt right to me. So rises the importance becoming excellent at what one can. While in China, being an American granted a degree of celebrity status that allowed us to develop relationships with almost anyone, in America, it takes a great deal more to gain someone's interest and ear.

Or, the sharing the Gospel can seem unnatural because we go from organic friendship to a wooden presentation. One thing I did learn in my time in China was the importance of my evangelism training prior to the trip. Most everyone will agree that reading through a four spiritual laws booklet is a lame way to share the Gospel (though I personally know an example of a person coming to faith through just that). I didn't once use the exact patterns I was taught. Instead, I became able to express what I already know in a clear way, guided by the patterns devloped by those more wise and gifted than I. My personal knowledge and passion combined with this framework enabled me to share the Gospel as what it is, the most important thing in my life—without sacrificing clarity.

This felt more natural to me than pulling out a booklet, even when the relationship wasn't as far along as I would have liked, it was natural. I wasn't just forcing my views on someone. They wanted to know who I was, and so I would share with them the most formative thing in my life.

There is always going to be discomfort in sharing the Gospel. It comes in lack of deep friendships or a lack of common ground. But perhaps more fundamental is this third area: the Gospel being presented as something other. What message is given when we go from personal, interactive conversation to talking in abstractions about a worldview when we 'begin' sharing? Our most natural presentation of the Gospel is one that shows how our nature has been changed by Jesus.

It will be a message entirely unnatural to the unregenerate hearer. Work to let the unnatural happen there, and not for lack of our efforts to build the relationships that show us to be speaking the truth in love.

Reinventing Water

While preparing for the sermon I preached this morning, I was considering the nature of circumcision, and in turn baptism and the Lord's Supper. In all three cases, God is taking something that is not uncommon and giving it a sanctified purpose.

The Israelites were not the only ones in the ancient Near East who practiced circumcision. Even the Egyptians, the polytheists, were known to practice circumcision. It was not the physical act that was unique to Israel, but the significance applied to it.

So also with baptism, it is hardly the only time in the life of a Christian where one gets wet. And there are washing rituals in various cultures. But baptism is given a unique symbolic meaning wherein the believer is lowered into death and raised out of the tomb with Christ. And the Lord's Supper is not the only time we eat bread—although for Baptists it may be their only wine.

Jeremiah 9:25-26 makes clear that circumcision itself is of not of value, but the covenant and faith is represents is. Further, it is important that these symbols have all been established specifically by God as symbols of particular things.

The implications of this I have been considering are for Christian artists. Take, for example, a lyricist such as Sufjan Stevens. To the discerning ear, his lyrics are full of Scriptural and theological allusions. At the same time, he seems to delight in lyrical abstractions, often making it difficult to understand exactly what he is saying. If you interpret his lyrics through sound theology, it is quite delightful and edifying.

But there is a danger in allowing the lyrics to create a world of imaginative symbolism on their own. While the new modes of expressing old truths can bring fresh life to the ideas, it is important to judge whether the new perspective is in fact true to what is revealed in Scripture. God's imaginitive symbolsim is authoritative and perfect in application. The same does not apply for our reinvention of imagery.

Art should bring fresh light to eternal theological truths, but it cannot change them.

An Honest Assessment

I just Wordled my blog.

A Ride With China's Finest

Yesterday morning I was working my summer job doing tech work at my college. On this morning, like most mornings, I was digging through the back of cabinets of equipment and trying to move cables around when I accidentally cut through a live power cord with a cheap, uninsulated pair of wire cutters. I'm not sure why, but I didn't get shocked at all. There was, however, a good deal of burning and sparking action. I'm glad to be alive.

My 'fray' with death caused me to think back on my time in China. My most potentially crippling anxiety during my time in China was safety. Mostly, I didn't want to grant an exclusive interview to the police, but there were also a few occasions when my physical safety was in danger. Safety is certainly something an American sacrifices in going out into other countries for the sake of the Gospel. But giving up what I consider safety was a wonderful discipline, as it helped me experience the joy of the Gospel more fully. I had a fuller realization that to live is Christ, and to die is gain.

Another realization tacking my anxiety about safety brought me was that there is no reason for the Christian to fear, particularly when faithfully following Jesus. I knew I was supposed to go to China. If God saw fit to kill me there, more glory to Him. It was and is an incredibly freeing revelation.

But before my trip was over, I had one fantastic experience where I thought it was entirely possible I would be killed. When we were traveling through western China, we decided it would be best to hire a driver to take us for a leg of the trip. The children were getting exhausted from the buses and planes, so after we checked into our hotel, we asked them to find a driver for us.

Now, this hotel probably provided the biggest fuss to us checking in. When a foreigner stays at a hotel in China, the hotel is required to report to the government who is there. So, they take your passport, record the information, and send it along. It turns out the hotel was incompetent—probably because they hadn't had foreigners in quite some time—and it took them well over an hour to process our passports. I, more than the rest of the group, was becoming somewhat apprehensive at this. We eventually were able to stay there, and made a deal with a driver to take us to the next city.

So the next day, we brought our luggage down to the lobby, where the concierge directed us toward our van. We asked immediately if it was a joke. Our ride for the day was a sparkling clean, 11 passenger police van, lights and all. Sure, you'll give us a ride. Right to the PSB. As we loaded our belongings, the Chinese speakers in our group began conversation with the drivers. "Are you police officers?"

"No, no, no."
"How do you have this van then?"
"We borrowed it."
Uhuh.

So, we pile in, somewhat suspicious, incredibly curious, and all thinking how amazing of a story this is going to be if it ends well. Our drivers acted suspicious for the first 30 minutes or so of our drive. For the worry wart of the group, their behavior brought the conclusion that it was moderately likely that they would kill us and take our money. (This was completely illogical, by the way.)

It turns out they were just some regular guys who knew someone in the police force who they were able to bribe to borrow the van so that they could drive us to our next city. Their suspicious behavior was on account of their desire to avoid being stopped by a real police officer.

I can't help but wonder what workers in the toll booths thought when they saw a police van with seven Americans in the back. Probably that our drivers had made the catch of the year.

Not Far From the Truth

Tibet is a sensitive topic in China. If you're an American in China—and particularly if you want to be able to share the Gospel with anyone you meet—it's probably best to skirt around the issue, particularly in the east. Americans take a lot of interest in the liberation of Tibet, yet very few advocate the liberation of the Uygur lands. I have a suspicion the difference between these two people groups—both of whom are oppressed and mistreated to a degree—is the influence of the Dalai Lama in the west combined with the taming of a religion (Tibetan Buddhism) into an attractive philosophy of life without its remarkably dark roots.

Tibetan Buddhism is exported to America in the form of what amounts to atheistic self-help through inner peace, meditation, and harmonious living. I had the chance to visit a Tibetan Buddhist monastery in China (on my birthday, nonetheless). I had done some reading on Tibetan Buddhism before I went to China, but the reality of their actual practices did not hit home until I saw what the monks actually practice.

In short, Tibetan Buddhists believe that there are supernatural, demonic beings in this world who are wont to do us harm. These beings often have a pleasant, appealing face with which they lure people in, only to reveal their true, horrifying self. Tibetan Buddhism essentially amounts to a system of seeking to appease these demons so that they do not do us harm. The images of these demons were painted on the walls of the buildings. They were essentially the most disturbing creatures the human mind could conceive. This guy isn't even the worst of them. Usually they have a nice decapitated head in their hand or something.


Now the methodology:

Prayers and chants are important. To this end, monks are very devout in their prayers to those who have achieved enlightenment. But, because that cannot be enough, they thought of a new idea: write out your prayers, glue them to the inside of a giant drum, and give it a spin. In a nearby marketplace, I even found an electric powered prayer wheel, so you can just plug it in and let your prayers be multiplied. If you're eco-friendly, prayer flags (which pray your prayers as they blow in the wind) are a good alternative.


Of course, money is also important. Donations to the shrine of your favorite enlightened monk can't hurt, can it?


So in short, you pray to these little statues so that the big scary dudes don't hurt you.


Now, I've been somewhat sarcastic in my analysis of Tibetan Buddhism at this monastery. But in seriousness, their beliefs are practices are not far from the truth. Think about it: demonic forces are a reality. Their beliefs are probably based upon real encounters with supernatural forces of evil. But they have no concept of a creator God. In fact, I'm told that explaining this idea to a Tibetan is one of the most difficult parts of sharing the Gospel.

So what do you do if you know there are evil forces that want to harm you and you haven't been told that there is an omnipotent God who desires to make you his own and protect you? Try to appease the demons. And so they do, however they can. It is sad, though, that they worship idols made by human hands. Jeremiah 10:5 says that idols like these cannot do anything, good or evil. Yet worship of these idols prevents Tibetans from worshiping the One who only does good.

The Elegant Captain Hook

"Oh, I hate being disappointed, Smee. And I hate living in this flawed body. And I hate living in Neverland. And I hate... I hate... I *hate* Peter Pan!"

So cries James T. Hook as he once again reaches his tipping point. In 1991's Hook, the villain is given considerably more humanity than in previous renditions. On more than one occasion in the story, Hook reaches a point of unconquerable despair at his ailing condition.

What is it, though, about Peter Pan that Hook despises? It is his youthful joy in part. Butwhen Peter Banning returns, a fully grown man, Hook despises him for a new reason. Hook's chief tormentor in Pan's absence—a ticking clock—is a constant reminder of his mortality. When Pan, the once youthful antithesis of Hook's practically decomposing body returns as a middle aged man, Hook is more frustrated than ever.

Seeing Peter Banning's out of shape, noticeably fatherly form, Hook realizes the hopelessness of his own age and frailty. What was once a symbol of youthful immortality is now equally touched by the reality of time and aging—and seems as susceptible to death as Hook's mangled frame.

Hook's declaration to Smee is striking in its reflection on the condition of the body. Disappointment, frustration with the body, and the realization that death will come for us all are not unique to Captain Hook. In the words of William Shatner, "Live life like you're gonna die, because you're gonna."

There are three methods of coping with such a realization. The first is denial and/or apathy. One can ignore and numb oneself to the reality of death. Perhaps the young Peter Pan held this view— and it may have been reality for him at one point. The Lost Boys' chant, "I won't grow up" is the mantra of many young adults who seek to gain as much earthly pleasure as possible at all times at the expense of any responsibility. This pursuit is often more subtle than starting the weekend on Thursday night.

The second approach is to embrace the end of the earthly journey as the end of all things, and create what John Piper considers a misguided attempt at heaven on earth. The aim here is to work hard for 35 years, and then retire, because you've earned it. Move to Florida—or Arizona if you don't want such a geriatric atmosphere—play golf, collect stamps, and do whatever relaxes you. You're going to die, so you better enjoy life while it's still with you. Both these approaches to living put their stock in a body that will disappoint.

But, if one truly believes in the reality of resurrection of Jesus Christ, then there is confidence in the coming resurrection of the dead. And if these frail, mortal bodies are to be raised imperishable, then there is an infinite pleasure to be obtained through this life. Meaning, what may seem to human reasoning to be the most pleasurable lifestyle now may in fact be depriving you of joy. This mortal body will disappoint, as Hook declares. According to 1 Corinthians 15, tthe one who puts his faith in Christ can only be disappointed if Christ did not rise from the dead.

Faith means giving up the pursuit of satisfaction from things in this world. It means sacrificing anything the world would take from you for being obedient to Christ. But, in the oft quoted words of Jim Elliot, "He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose."

This is What He Said

A juicy footnote from Bruce Waltke on page 310 of An Old Testament Theology,

"A personal anecdote is appropriate here. Several times in translating the New International Version of the Bible the committee rejected formerly suitable English renderings because they had acquired a double entendre with potential immoral connotations. It occured to me that every word could become debauched and corrupted through double entendre until one could not speak or thinking without debauched humor operating."

Waltke offers this anecdote as he discusses the culture-wide depravity at the time of Noah, "for all flesh had corrupted their way on the earth" (Gen. 6:12). Waltke interprets the Genesis 6 text to mean that even man's imagination became evil—all flesh is understood very inclusively.

Waltke's indictment against the decay of language is all too accurate. In fact, even in my title for this post I have alluded to a popular catchphrase that is used to turn a mostly benign statement by another into a double entendre, or at least to point out one's faux pas.

But the evidence of the decay of language goes further, as pop culture continually "invents" new allusions to lewd acts, and while old profanities become practically benign with overuse, an increasing amount of the English vocabulary must be treated with caution. It's rather defeating for anyone who would wish to avoid a solecism at an inopportune moment, as the effort to stay up with the latest terms so as to avoid them dirties his mind in the process.

But just as much as language and culture becomes sullied, so also it happens with the individual. Titus bears an indictment against some such people:

To the pure, all things are pure, but to the defiled and unbelieving, nothing is pure; but both their minds and their consciences are defiled. They profess to know God, but they deny him by their works. They are detestable, disobedient, unfit for any good work.

Titus 1:15-16

To the unbeliever—or to the believer who allows himself to be defiled—it is impossible for anything to be pure. All things can be twisted into evil, and such people prove it. However, Waltke sees the redemptive hope expressed in places such as Titus demonstrated in the language of the Old Testament:

"I took heart, however, in recalling that God chose the Caananite language, in which the most depraved literature of the ancient Near East was written, to become the Hebrew language, in which the Bible was written. In his mercy and redemptive power, God chose the language of the most depraved culture to sanctify as the language of Holy Scripture."

God is strong to save. As he sees fit, he can redeem even the most crass language for his purposes. And in his mercy, he can make the most foul of men pure. Why is this? It is because,

"...the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age, waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for himself a people for his own possession who are zealous for good works."

Those who have been purified by the sacrificial death of Christ are to renounce ungodliness and live upright lives—not polluted by the world, not becoming increasingly debauched, but rather, increasing in godliness and zeal for good works as they wait for the return of Christ Jesus. How much more will the God who redeemed a language for his purposes also sanctify his ransomed people for his glory?

Some Thoughts on Marriage

Post-Bible Study conversation lead to me thinking about a notion surrounding marriage that seems fairly popular in contemporary Christianity. Packaged into many marriage ceremonies recently is the idea that marriage involves the bringing together of two families.

I can see where the argument from Scripture for this idea is developed. Biblical narratives of marriage (aside from metaphorical use) is entirely in the Old Testament. In these cases, there are instances where, upon marriage, the newlyweds lived with the woman's family. Take for example, Moses and Jacob. Both lived with their in-laws for an extended time after their marriage.

Further, normative behavior in Scripture is not necessarily prescriptive. Sin, for example, is fairly normative behavior in Scripture but is by no means condoned. And, I cannot think of an example in Scripture where two families joined together. When Moses and Jacob live with their in-laws, it is because they are not welcome with their own families.

I would argue that the more significant ethic of marriage in Scripture is the "leave and cleave" of Genesis 2. And in fact, an emphasis on joining two families together can get in the way of the practical implementation of becoming one flesh.

Becoming one flesh is a clearly taught theological principle that is foundational for gender relationships. Any notion of joining families together is developed from narrative—narrative that is not interpreted to mean such things, nor is it written in such a way as to draw out this element.

This is incredibly half-baked, but if true, quite important. Prove me wrong? I welcome it, lest I become increasingly heretical.

The Reality of the Cross

Earlier this week at our weekly Bible study I was challenged by a friend who related an idea he had read in Tim Keller's The Reason For God. The basic concept is whether one considers God to be a concept or a reality. 

As a concept, God is something to be argued, something to be proved logically, a worldview. You can play with a concept and make it fit your life or meet your needs or ends. A concept is something that supplements existing concepts. 

A reality, in this definition, is the presupposition to all further discussion. While concepts can be interpreted according to my needs and desires, a reality is the interpreting norm for all thought and discussion. Gravity is a reality; you don't just think about it abstractly. It determines how you live. 

This dichotomy has helped me as I think about something a friend I met in China said to me about evangelism and missions. He found it troubling that so often, people who share the Gospel with their friends, by how they go about sharing and what they make out to be most important as they talk about (or live out) Christianity, give the impression that Christianity is, at its core, about accenting to a certain worldview. If someone will say the earth was made in six literal days, oppose abortion, and say something another about Jesus being God, then many evangelists think that their task of sharing the Gospel has been fruitful. Far too often we present a concept rather than a reality. 

There's a certain allure to such a method of evangelism—and I know I can fall into it. If you share a concept, there is more wiggle room to avoid being thought of as intellectually inferior or foolish. It's possible to avoid the offense of the Gospel if you're sharing what amounts to bland unitarianism. 

Instead, my friend told me, share the knowledge of Jesus. What saves? It is not acknowledging that there is one God—the demons believe that, and tremble. It is not holding ethical stances on moral issues, though the Prophets (among other texts) make it clear that such things are important to God. It is not religious appearances. Transformation and salvation comes through Jesus Christ, through knowing him, through regeneration by his blood, and life in the Spirit. 

If someone thinks that what they've heard about Jesus can fold neatly into how they already live, they have not heard the Gospel. It is the purpose of the Church to unashamedly share the reality of Jesus Christ crucified, risen, and coming again. The cross changes everything. Not just individual lives, but the whole course of history. A Christian is one whose life has been so transformed by knowing Jesus that the Jesus' death and resurrection is the pivot around which his entire life is oriented. Pray, then, that God would allow his Gospel to be heard not as a concept but as a reality.

A Hymn to God the Father

i.

Wilt Thou forgive that sin where I begun,
Which was my sin, though it were done before?
Wilt Thou forgive that sin, through which I run,
And do run still, though still I do deplore?
When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done,
For I have more.

ii.

Wilt Thou forgive that sin which I have won
Others to sin, and made my sin their door?
Wilt Thou forgive that sin which I did shun
A year or two, but wallowed in a score?
When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done,
For I have more.

iii.

I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun
My last thread, I shall perish on the shore ;
But swear by Thyself, that at my death Thy Son
Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore ;
And having done that, Thou hast done ;
I fear no more.

-John Donne

Follow Not the Camel, But the One Who Holds the Camel Together

In the geographic center of China—just north of the Tibetan plateau and southeast of the Gobi Desert—live the Salar, a Muslim people of Turkish origins. The cultural and religious capital of the Salar is located in Xunhua County in Qinghai province—just northeast of Xining.

As the legend goes, about 800 years ago the Salar people faced persecution where they lived in Uzbekistan. So, two brothers took a camel and strapped a copy of the Quran to its head. They followed this camel until it stopped at a spring in what is now Jiezi in Xunhua County. The Salar followed the camel to their new home, believing that Allah was leading them through it.

Today the Salar are defined most clearly through their belief in Islam. This represents a remarkable challenge as the church seeks to take the good news of Jesus Christ to their tongue—which has no written form—and tribe, which gains its primary identity from a system of belief that denies the diety of Jesus. The Salar are genetically different than the Han majority in China, and even than the other (mostly Turkish) minorities in China's west. Yet it is not the genetic differences that give the Salar their distinct culture, but 800 years of developing an identity as a minority group defined by religious status.

During the Cultural Revolution, Mao once declared pork to be such a valuable asset to the country that all people were mandated to eat it—even Muslims, in violation of their purity code (called halal). Instances such as this, where the majority ethnicity violated the culture created by Islam further heighten the Salar's identity as a Muslim people. So, even in the case of marginal Salar Muslims—that is, those who are cultural Muslims but not particularly devout—Islam so defines their identity that anything that challenges the Muslim culture is particularly alien.

The Quran says that Allah has 100 names, and he has revealed 99 of them in the Quran. The last name, according to the Quran, was revealed only to the camel. A popular method of evangelism to Muslims is to point to this text and then seek to show that the 100th name of Allah is Jesus Christ. Obviously, much more definition must go into a Gospel presentation than just adding a name for Allah. Most notably, faith in Jesus requires a change of community. Because some practices of Islam are directly in contradiction to following Christ, faith in Christ requires, in some leaving Islam and entering the church of Jesus Christ.

It makes an interesting situation for the Salar. As a Gospel witness spreads along the valleys of the western Yellow River, many Salar, whose ancestors followed a camel to a new land, will be asked instead to follow the one whose name is in some places only known by the camels. Perhaps it is that God brought the Salar out of Uzbekistan and into China in order that the Good News of his Son, Jesus Christ, might come to them there.

Oh, that the Salar people in the valleys of the Yellow River would worship Jesus. Until they do, the red rocks and hills cry out.

Reformed Theology Through the Lens of Biblical Theology

I'm (re-)reading Bruce Waltke's new Old Testament Theology, and came across an idea that, although not new to me, is explained here in such a way that has brought about fresh reflection.
The field of biblical theology seeks to read the Bible in such a way as to see the progression of God's work through history, sorting ideas thematically into organic categories that flow from the text rather than from philosophical categories (as is done in systematic theology). Biblical theology focusses on narrative and the historical development of themes.

A common endeavor in biblical theology is to state the center of Scripture, that is, the main tension that is resolved throughout the text. Although some biblical theologians believe there is not one central theme that can be named, many theologians—Waltke included—consider the center of the Bible to be the irruption of God's holy kingship into his creation. Says Waltke,

"...the center of the Old Testament, the message that accommodates all its themes, is that Israel's sublime God, whose attributes hold in tension his holiness and mercy, glorifies himself by establihsing his universal rule over his volitional creatures on earth through Jesus Christ and his covenant people."

[Bruce Waltke, An Old Testament Theology, 144]

Waltke says later that this theme implicitly spreads into the New Testament, where the kingship of God is mostly clearly demonstrated in Jesus Christ. Now, Waltke is admittedly reformed, but I think the pervasiveness of central themes similar to this one seen in Scripture gives a certain helping proof to reformed theology. I have often heard systematic proofs of reformed theology—often seen in the shape of TULIP. And there are many micro-level text proofs that show reformed theology's faithfulness to the biblical text. But in a new way, I recognize how reformed theology fits into the narrative of Scripture with a biblical theology centered in such a way as this. Through this lens, I want to briefly look at three ways Walke's statement of the central theme of Scripture informs and supports the core tennants reformed theology.

1. The Sovereignty of God

Waltke chooses the term "sublime" to briefly describe the glory of God, while his "universal rule" over the world shows the breadth of his sovereign rule. Further, it is God irrupting his kingdom onto the world, a reflection of his sovereignty in volition.

2. The Centrality of Christ

Because the Old Testament is about the Kingdom of God, it is implicitly about Jesus Christ, the one through whom God establishes his permanent kingdom on earth. As Christ takes the foreground even in the Old Testament, it becomes clear that the crucifiction of Christ was God's sovereign plan from the beginning—further heightening a sense of the sovereignty of God. Here see also Luke 24:27, where Jesus explains to his disciples how the whole of the Old Testament points to him.

3. The Doctrines of Grace

Waltke calls the entrance of God's sovereign kingship onto the scene of history as irruption rather than erruption. If a volcano errupts, an asteroid irrupts. This relates that God—and proper relationship with him—come not from within humanity but from God. He establishes his kingdom, and He calls his children into it. Irruption leaves no place for man-made religion. God breaks onto the scene in such a way that man must respond.

4. The Cultural Mandate

Waltke argues that "This in-breaking of God's rule involves battling against spiritual adversaries in heavenly places and political, social and religious powers on earth and destroying them in righteous judgment while saving his elect." God has chosen to show signs of the coming complete redemption of the earth by mercifully holding back evil in this age. To this end, his church is called to take the Gospel to the nations, but also to be involved in their own societies as a Gospel witness through word and deed. As Israel was indicted for injustice against the poor, so the church must seek to live justly in a corrupt culture.

5. The Doctrine of Scripture

Finally, seeing how the narrative of Scripture supports reformed theology further upholds the reformed emphasis on stressing the Bible's authority and innerrancy. As we see that God is working consistently to bring about his desired ends, we gain a greater trust in Scripture as well as a greater appreciation for all parts of the biblical narrative. They have all been given to us in order that we might know the creator and redeemer God who has established his kingdom through his only Son, Jesus Christ.

The Glory to Come or, Peter's Edifice Complex

The Matthew 17 account of the Transfiguration is foremost about God revealing to a small group of disciples the full heavenly glory of Jesus even as Jesus is preparing himself—and his disciples—for his road to Calvary. Jesus, who humbled himself and became man, is transfigured by God into his glorious state and humbles himself yet again to bear the sins of the world. The core significance of this passage cannot be missed, yet at the same time Matthew is artfully telling the story of Peter's development into a broken man shaped by God's grace to be a leader in the church.

Immediately preceding the Transfiguration are two instances where Peter makes confessions regarding Jesus. In the first, when Jesus asks Peter who he thinks he is, Peter responds, "You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God." Here Peter is making a correct confession: He recognizes that Jesus is the Annointed One, and even seems to have a sense of Jesus' diety.

Yet shortly after, as Jesus is explaining to his disciples that it is necessary for him to die and raise again, Peter says to him, "Far be it from you, Lord! This shall never happen to you." Here, Peter is entirely missing the point; his confession is not of the Messiah that Jesus must be.

So when Peter, James, and John are lead up the mountain by Jesus and see him Transfigured, in regard to Peter's development as a person—and at this point we are already told by Jesus that Peter is the one on whom he will build his church—the reader is wondering how Peter is going to respond.

I'll let Scripture tell the story:

And Peter said to Jesus, "Lord, it is good that we are here. If you wish, I will make three tents here, one for you and one for Moses and one for Elijah." He was still speaking when, behold, a bright cloud overshadowed them, and a voice from the cloud said, "This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him."

Peter's suggestion is to make places of dwelling for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah. Here, they could stay in the light of Jesus' glory. In suggesting to build shelters for three, Peter shows a desire for the full reality of Jesus' glory to remain—Peter wants to stay on the mountain. Peter is not to be blamed here: He has been shown crown time, and he wants to stay there. Peter is, however, missing the point. It was necessary that Jesus come down from the mountain. It was necessary that Jesus suffered death. It was necessary that Peter eventually understood why Jesus rebuked him for suggesting otherwise. It was necessary that James and Peter be martyred for their faith.

If Jesus and the three had not come down the mountain, Christ's work would not have been completed. Peter, the rock on whom Christ would build his church, did eventually learn that the path to the glory of God is through the Suffering Servant, who calls us also to suffer—persecutions, yes, but also denying oneself. Peter had been shown Christ's glory to show him that his suffering is for a worthy purpose. Yet in his second letter, he tells us that compared to his being present at the Transfiguration, Scripture (the prophetic word) is more sure (2 Peter 1:19). So also we must wait for when Christ's glory is fully revealed. And we must see that the path to sharing that inheritance is through suffering. Yet in Scripture, we are given a sure promise, an assurance of the truth in which we can—and must—place our trust.

On "God is Love"

I am becoming increasingly convinced that Scripture and logic require one to fall into one of two theological camps: Calvinism or open theism. I know there are Arminians who disagree with this, but go with me on it.

It seems that there is a fundamental tension most everyone feels as they consider and live in faith of Jesus: If God is loving, why is there suffering, why is everyone not saved, and so forth.

In conversation with a good friend recently who is working through issues related to this, I came up with this way of describing the decision everyone has to come to: You either have to redefine what love is, or redefine who God is.

And frankly, I think if you read Scripture carefully, you'll find that in it, God reveals himself in a way that accords with Scripture's definition of love. Where I think people go astray is in first deciding for themselves what love is—apart from Scripture—and then realize that their definition of love does not fit with the God they see in Scripture. This pushes them to reject Scripture, and in turn the God who reveals himself in Scripture.

These are just my thoughts spewn out in no appealing manner. I certainly welcome discussion on this topic as I sort through these ideas more.

Imitation of the Glorious Son

Stephen's speech before the Sanhedrin in Acts 7 is a decisive turning point in the movement of the Church from being a messianic movement within Judaism in Jerusalem and Judea to being a cross-cultural message of salvation to the nations. Prior to this point the narrative is set in Jerusalem; immediately after Stephen's martyrdom we see the Gospel going to the Gentiles as Phillip ministers to the Samaritans. The transition is not coincidental.

There are three levels one can look at the narrative of Stephen's speech and martyrdom. First, from a theological perspective as a glimpse into the relationship between Israel and church, temple and Jesus, man and God. The theology that got Stephen killed comes into play later in Acts at the Jerusalem council (Acts 15).

Second, one can look at the story in terms of the corporate mission of the Church. In this light, we look most closely at the role it played in believers being sent out from Jerusalem, how it marks the end of the Jerusalem focus of the apostles in the Acts narrative, and how it has a condemning effect on the Jewish religious leaders.

However, in this post I want to look at the narrative through a third lens: the example of Stephen as a call to faithfully proclaim the Gospel at any cost. Throughout the history of the Church, some have been called to die for their faith. As Luke tells the story of Stephen, he is showing that when opportunity is given to share our faith, the Christian must do it at any cost—and that this is what it means to follow Christ.

The pattern is most clearly stated in 1 Corinthians 11:1 where Paul calls the Corinthian church to be imitators of him (inasmuch) as he imitates Christ. There is an important place in the Christian faith for us to look to those who are more mature in the faith than ourselves and see them as evidences of God's sanctifying and persevering grace. We look to the mature and see that it is God who has shaped them and grown them to maturity, and from that gain the confidence to persevere.

Stephen is described as "a man full of faith and of the Holy Spirit." Luke tracks the path of Stephen in this short pericope from being one with gifting, to one who is placed in a position of leadership in the church—and serves faithfully, to one who is persecuted for his faithful ministry of the Gospel. Luke wants his reader to see that it is not just the Apostles—the superstars of the faith—who are called to take up their cross as faithful disciples. In fact, the first Apostles to be martyred is not until James the son of Zebedee is put to the sword in Acts 12.

Stephen's final questioning and execution are narrated in a manner purposefully similar to Jesus' passion. Some of the religious leaders have men bring false charges against him, the High Priest questions him, and the people seal his doom. As he dies, he both asks for the forgiveness of his killers and gives up his spirit.

All these elements are meant to show what the imitation of Christ means. The reader is invited to imitate Stephen, as Stephen immitated Jesus. But don't read Stephen's imitation of Christ as an isolated incident. Stephen lived a faithful life before he died a faithful death.

The faithful life can be seen in Luke 9: Jesus says that his disciples must deny themselves and take up their crosses daily. The daily taking up of the cross is not martyrdom, but dying to self.
Interestingly, both the Luke 9 and Acts 7 accounts are capped in the same way: a vision of Jesus in glory. In Luke 9 it is Jesus' transfiguration; in Acts 7 it is Jesus at the right hand of the Father.

Luke's ethic is this: In order to die faithfully, we must also live faithfully. This faithfulness is not of ourselves. It is of the glorified Son of Man. Because Jesus has been risen from the dead and glorified, to live is Christ and death is gain.

It Was the Best of Times...

On my way to one of my favorite universities to visit in Tianjin was a large housing development that was named in commemoration of a past Chinese dynasty. Every time I biked past it on my way to visit a friend, I would chuckle to myself at their promotion line. They had apparently quoted the first line of A Tale of Two Cities—but nothing more. The sign said, "It was the best of times."

Being moderately ethnocentric, I was amused by their apparent failure to read any farther in the book. Yet at the same time, I find such a decontexualized use of a catchy, seemingly pertinent phrase particularly illustrative as I consider the task, duty, and delight of missions, evangelism, and the Christian life as a whole.

A beautiful truth of the Gospel is that it is not our persuasion that wins lives over to Jesus, but the Holy Spirit's quickening ray (see, for example, 2 Cor. 4:6). The flip side of this truth, however, is that many times, our proclamation of the Gospel does not bring salvation, but is rejected. This rejection may even be part of a lifelong hardening to the Gospel—our very proclamation may in fact further justify God's righteous wrath on account of a person's sinfulness and rejection of Christ.

On a number of occasions, I have heard Isaiah 6:8 quoted as a motivation to go into ministry, service, and missions: Isaiah's call is seen as a normative call to ministry and exemplary response to God's call. But, like the sign in China, we read what conveniently fits our purpose. "Yes, Lord, I will go, and tell the Good News." 

But what if that Good News is rejected? Read further, and you see that the message Isaiah was told to bring to Israel was not one of God's favor, but of condemnation. After seeing generation after generation worshipping idols, God is handing over Israel to their own desires. Isaiah's initial  message is not one of hope, but of condemnation. 

As the Church takes the Gospel to the nations—to places such as China—we must expect that it will not always be accepted. Though the Gospel is the Good News—the Best News— it is foolishness to those who have not been called. The Great Commission calls us to go: It is our duty, but also our delight. But we cannot read Scripture and stop after what is easy to stomach: The Gospel WILL go to every people, tongue, and nation—It was the best of times. We must read on: To follow Jesus is to take up one's cross. We follow Jesus out of the city to Golgatha. It was the worst of times.

But Christ rose again. And Christ will return. It will be the best of times. Full stop.

Couched Knowledge

Susie Cassel bragged about her "new" couch tonight. It was quite the steal: $30 for a respectable looking yellow two-seater that has a certain vintage look to it and actually matches their living room decorations remarkably well.

Tonight offered seniors the opportunity to impart some wisdom upon the flock before we skip town. Fully aware I had to say something, I sat on Susie's new couch, squeezed between Hops and Jay, whom I feared would give me a swift elbow to the side in lieu of my normal shark tank treatment should I say anything sketchy.

Trouble is, everything I know comes from me being pretty good at screwing things up. Basically, the pattern of my last four years of life—and I fear the pattern goes back much further—is that in the most important decisions of my life, I have made what turned out to be the best decision, even though it is usually precisely the opposite of what I wanted.

Whenever I share advice I find myself wanting to show to others what great decisions I have made, or how I've done things right. Instead, my advice was more of a confession. Thanks to my friend Steph and her blog, I recently read this quote from Jacques Derrida, whom I cannot claim to have read in any depth:

“One always writes in order to confess, one always writes in order to ask for forgiveness.”

Trying to share tonight at After Hours was only the last of my "confessions" of the last month. Every one of the 70 pages I've written over the last month has expressed the Gospel in some form, if only in a small way. And each confession of the Gospel has pushed me to a confession in the second sense of the word—to admit fault—that I do not live to the standards of which I write.

What a blessed word it is in Proverbs 1:7, "The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge." Not wisdom of myself. Not by my experiences.

This is a fear I need to learn more of.

Poets and Bishops and Altos

It may seem odd that in the midst of 60 pages of writing due in the next four weeks, I am taking time to blog. However, it is scientifically proven that:

fun (blog) > fun (paper Dr. Treier will grade)

And if there is a time in the week that ought to be fun, it's 10:30 on a Saturday night. And, I'm thinking about this because I'm stuck on a section of my confession paper.

A couple years ago my small group went on a group date of sorts to see Paradise Lost, a rock/electronica opera written by Eric Whitacre. Whitacre is one of the premier young composers of choral music (among his many talents), and composed the music for one of my favorite pieces I've ever sung, i thank you God for most this amazing (day), using the words of the poet e.e. cummings (yes, my capitalization in that sentence is correct).

{{As a side note, it was one of my more pathetic moments in dating life. By coincidence, ill-fortune, and perhaps because I had bad hair, I struck out (twice), asking six girls who were unable to join us. In the end, I brought a male friend of mine who sang in choir with me. But I digress.}}

The opera was musically stunning, if lyrically inane at points. Although it was not fully staged, the pure aural sensation was overwhelming in itself. In a sense, it was a beautiful piece of art in that it did not reveal its philosophical leanings until the very last. At that point, it became clear that it was the most blatantly humanistic expression of art I had seen. Thus bringing into question my fondness for Whitacre—and the song.

You see, the song had been an important one for our choir the previous year. The words a stunning expressiong of beauty in creation—and thankfulness to God. The music pulls at your heart, working in unison with the lyrics, perfectly emoting a yearning and peaceful thankfulness. It was one we sang at two or three concerts, and would occasionally sing at the end of a rehearsal on a sunny day in spring or at the end of a long week.

Cummings' poem is a beautiful expression of creation and thankfulness. Yet, Cummings was an unabashed Unitarian. Add to that Whitacre's unashamed humanism, and the entirety of the creative process for this work of art was, by my standards, non-Christian. How, then, did it hold such an intimate spot in our Christian choir's heart? How could it have such spiritual value?

First, I think there is a degree to which Cummings' poem is portable to trinitarian Christianity for two reasons. One, it speaks only of creation, of that which can be seen as general revelation. It's religious tone is in the thankful response: "i thank you God". Two, particularly in the artistic community at Wheaton, it is common to give artists quite a degree of liberty in expressing religious ideas. This cannot turn into sloppy theological discernment, where we cling to the words that work for our view and ignore the whole of the composition.

However, there is an underlying theological issue: What is it about anything in particular that makes it an efficacious tool for God to work with? In church history, there has been debate as to whether (and by what means) ordinances (or sacraments) confer grace or have value. One view, ex opere operato, asserts that sacraments have efficacy on the basis of how they are performed (can you botch a baptism if you don't fully submerse the participant?). Another view places an emphasis on the apostolic succession, believing that there is an unbroken chain of apostolic ministry dating back to Jesus' apostles. A third (discarded) view bases the efficacy on the holiness of the minister.

Frankly, none of these positions are officially held in evangelical protestant churches. The power of an ordinance to fulfill its purpose is entirely outside the realm of human control. Baptism is done in the name of the Triune God, not by the name of the pastor who dunks the participant.

That's a bit of a digression, but I think it's important as we consider the function of the song in question. The song and lyrics are not written by properly holy men descended from the Apostles. The lyrics are not Trinitarian, but they do suggest a proper response to God's creation, yet are nothing that would be appropriate for corporate worship in the Church. Still, I would argue that by God's grace, this song became an means by which our choir could reflect upon and properly respond to the beauty of God's creation, in thankfulness for what he has made.

This is not an argument that Christians can and should hijack every possible piece of art for Christ and His Kingdom. Quite the contrary. Many beautiful songs, written by great men of the faith and containing theological truth, are sung and heard without hearts properly orienting to God. No, it is not the beauty of the song, nor the truthfulness of the words that turns a song into pleasing worship. It is clean hands and pure hearts, faithfulness to God's commandments that pleases God. It is God who turns hearts to worship him.

Dear Refuge of My Weary Soul

Someone jumped in front of a train behind my apartment tonight. I'd be lying if I said it isn't getting to me. It causes me to reflect on the difficult things of this life. Any response to things like this is inevitably...inconsiderate. What do you say to a friend who lost a family member? Or to a community grieving a loss you do not share? Most people are too soon to speak.

I thought about writing something here, but all I could pen was too trite. I think this one reason God has given us music. This song says much more beautifully what I would stumble over.

1. Dear refuge of my weary soul,
On Thee, when sorrows rise
On Thee, when waves of trouble roll,
My fainting hope relies
To Thee I tell each rising grief,
For Thou alone canst heal
Thy Word can bring a sweet relief,
For every pain I feel

2. But oh! When gloomy doubts prevail,
I fear to call Thee mine
The springs of comfort seem to fail,
And all my hopes decline
Yet gracious God, where shall I flee?
Thou art my only trust
And still my soul would cleave to Thee
Though prostrate in the dust

3. Hast Thou not bid me seek Thy face,
And shall I seek in vain?
And can the ear of sovereign grace,
Be deaf when I complain?
No still the ear of sovereign grace,
Attends the mourner's prayer
Oh may I ever find access,
To breathe my sorrows there

4. Thy mercy seat is open still,
Here let my soul retreat
With humble hope attend Thy will,
And wait beneath Thy feet,
Thy mercy seat is open still,
Here let my soul retreat
With humble hope attend Thy will,
And wait beneath Thy feet.

-Anne Steele

The Great Discontinuity

"Biblical faith begins with the radical announcement of discontinuity that intends to initiate us into a new history of anticipation."

-Walter Brueggemann, The Land: Place as Gift, Promise,
and Challenge in Biblical Faith

The church in America generally struggles to preach vibrantly from the Old Testament. Most pastors either avoid it altogether or else reduce it to pithy moralizations that highlight the human players at the cost of seeing the work of the Divine Playwright.

The Old Testament is, admittedly, more intimidating than the New Testament. Because it is situated within the hellenized Roman Empire, the early church doesn't seem so culturally distant from us; we in the west have a much harder time dropping into the milleu of Abraham than of Paul.

In one sense, it is unhelpful to separate the testaments. While the reasons we do so are strong and many, the cost is (or at least, can be) a failure to see the consistency of God's action throughout history—and what responding to God's action requires of humans.

Brueggemann develops his concept of biblical faith from the example of Abraham, who, through an act of discontinuity, left a life behind to follow the promise of Yahweh. This faith, however, is not stagnant, but rather one of great anticipation. Abraham demonstrated this anticipation throughout his life: Though the biblical text only gives a few instances of God speaking to Abraham, he trusted in God's promises for decades of his life. He trusted God to the point of being faithful—even to his deathbed, when the only land of promise he could claim was his grave site. A great nation? A land for his own? Hardly.

Yet Scripture shows us how God made good his promises to Abraham. At the crossroads of the testaments stands the Incarnation: very God of very God takes on human flesh and reconciles a chosen people to himself. As great as was the discontinuity in Abraham's life when he trusted in God's promises, how much greater will be the Christian's response to the Incarnation, the Great Discontinuity?

In light of the Resurrection we celebrate today, we celebrate an anticipation that because the grave could not hold Jesus, neither will it hold his children. We shall not remain dead, but shall be raised! Abraham left certainty of earthly comfort, family, and familiarity to follow God into unpromising (by human standards) territory. His faith required a discontinuity from his past life in order to embrace anticipation of God's promise. I fear many who fashion themselves "Christian" do not sufficiently embrace this discontinuity.

Alleluia!

Life imparting heavenly manna
Stricken rock with bleeding side
Heaven and earth with loud hosanna
Worship You, the Lamb who died.

Alleluia! Jesus, True and Living Bread!

Restoration Project is done. Last summer Daniel, Jason and I sat down and talked (over a choice beverage) about recording some of the songs we'd been using in church over the last few years. I don't know that I thought it would pan out; you can see the man who put in the countless hours to make it happen here.


I think of Restoration Project as a good bottle of katsup. It's not the food your soul needs, but a flavoring. Katsup has no nutritional value. A diet of katsup alone will lead to malnutrition and death. But when the Gospel looks like your aunt's dry meatloaf, I pray that Restoration Project will be a means God uses to entice you to try just that first bite. And once you taste the Gospel, you will see how sweet it is—and need katsup no longer.

Last summer we flipped the glass Heinz bottle, and for the last 9 months we've banged on the 57's. It took awhile for it to flow, but Heinz is always worth the effort. Now that it's flowing, we pass the bottle to you. Give it a few taps. If the Gospel has become bland to you, or you have never tasted of it, I pray that it will help you to yearn for the True and Living Bread. Taste of Christ that you would hunger no more—and yet hunger for him increasingly.

The good news we sing of is not salvation by the works of human hands, but by the work of Christ Jesus alone. For this reason—because Christ is the only worthy one—the glory goes to him alone.

i thank You God for most this amazing...

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)




e.e. cummings

Missions and Living

A missions-minded friend of mine frequently expresses frustration at how few Wheaton students respond to calling to enter the missions field. Forget counting the number of missionaries that have gone out from the Wheaton community lately—I could count on one hand the number of students I know who seek to do long term missions—there just isn't any sort of fervor on campus about missions. When people sit around at night talking with friends trying to figure out what to do with their life, missions is rarely raised as a potential calling.

The lack of fervor for missions is a problem in itself, but I think that the problem extends beyond this particular to how we understand our calling in light of the gospel. I wish to explore this from two angles. First, whether we take seriously the (very biblically based) concept that "everyone is called to missions, but only some are called to go." That is, whether we are properly executing the Church's mission in other cultures. In another post, I hope to look at the second area: How those who who stay in their own culture can make decisions in their life to impact their own culture for the gospel.

The mantra that was pummeled into my mind from an early age in the church was that, "Some are called to go, some are called to send (financially), all are called to pray." Unfortunately, this is hardly ever faithfully enacted. The model for prayer for missions is not passive, but rather striving together for the sake of the gospel (Romans 15:30).

My assertion is this: Those of us that stay in our own cultures and support missionaries who go (through prayer and finances) should expect our lives to be disturbed by the cost of the gospel going out to the nations. We ought to prioritize both our time and finances to serve the gospel, perhaps even at the cost of other opportunities. It is impossible to say generally what this looks like for each person, and I won't suggest much in the way of pragmatics here. As much as conversation needs to happen in these areas, a reformation of missions will only happen among those who radically center their lives on the hope given in Christ. Is there hope beyond the grave? Have we been given promises in Christ greater than this life can offer? Then to live means service of Christ, and death is gain! Our lives are not our own.

I pray that I would be faithful to Christ in the faith of death. A one time giving of self for Christ seems simple compared to living life day to day as if my life is not my own. A life of continual sacrificial giving, earnest, engaged prayer (such that one aches with the sufferings and struggles of those in the missions field), or even giving up a life in America that is very appealing—that is a challenge I cannot face alone. As the martyr relies on God for faithfulness in the face of death, so rely on God's grace for faithfulness in every moment of life.


Up next: On False Entitlement

Clarification

In a previous post I discussed the role of doubt in the life of a believer. I affirmed the positive function of doubt—that it can lead to a greater confidence in the faith, and even a greater ability to give account for the hope within. Doubt can play an integral role in faith development. However, I wish to offer three points of clarification:

1. The Role of the Community in Doubt: Jude 22 says, "And have mercy on those who doubt." Previously in the letter, Jude called the Body to persevere in the midst of scoffers of the faith and those who cause divisions. While Jude warns the Church against scoffers such as these, doubters are a different category. The community is to bear with doubters in love, even battling alongside them against doubt, saving them "by snatching them out of the fire."

2. The Distinction Between Scoffers and Doubters: Given that Jude warns against one catagory and prescribes mercy towards another, there is a difference between doubting and scoffing. Doubters have a disposition towards faith. Scoffers, on the other hand, are "devoid of the Spirit." Doubters are those who cry, "I believe, help my unbelief." Doubters have seen the beauty of Christ and will persevere. Scoffers have no such hope. Scoffers seek to cause division in the church.

3. Whether Doubt is a Sin: As Jude uses the term doubt here (and he gives a fairly detailed distinction between doubting and scoffing), doubt is not a sin. The community is told to bear with doubters. Nowhere in the New Testament is the church told to bear with sin. Although the church is to seek to help others overcome doubt, Jude portrays doubt as a condition believers will find themselves in from time to time. This is not to say that remaining in doubt is acceptable. Fight against it!

Reformers v. Emergers: A Lenten Reflection

Reformation theology is traditionally thought to be rooted in Romans, particularly chapters 9-11: God's sovereign choice in extending the focus of his steadfast love to the Gentiles. The emphasis is on God's sovereign act of redemption in Christ Jesus.

Emergent theology—or most liberal theology of the last couple decades—centers their theology in the Sermon on the Mount. For them, the Incarnation means a radical reorienting of morality, an egalitarian (used broadly) ethic, a new law. The emphasis is on Jesus' radical teaching.

Everyone has a hermeneutical lens through which they read Scripture. Often this lens is a part of Scripture that is seen as most significant. The reason I most closely align myself with the reformers is that they, as a whole, most closely focus their hermeneutic on what is the most significant event not only in Scripture but in all history: the Passion of the Incarnate. 

Jesus' teachings are hugely important, but if all God were out to do was correct some bad doctrine, he hardly needed to humble himself and become man to do so. There is something much more significant than a new teaching going on in the Incarnation: the reconciliation of God and man that could only occur by the particularity of Jesus Christ, true God of true God, becoming flesh and dying as a propitiation for our sins.

This is what the Reformers are getting at in centering their reading Scripture in Romans 9-11. It is essentially saying, "Thanks be to God that he has provided sacrifice for our sins, Jew and Gentile, and that the Good News is going out to all nations." Romans 9-11 is a theological (and practical!) outworking of the Passion narratives.

I am becoming increasingly convinced that God created the world so that he could demonstrate his steadfast love through the Incarnation and death of Jesus Christ. This is the centerpiece of all history; this is the purpose and the meaning of all things. Using on the Sermon on the Mount as a central hermeneutic of Scripture comes up short in at least two ways. First, The Sermon on the Mount does not appear in all the Gospel accounts. The Passion does. If the primary significance of Jesus' incarnation were his rabbinical teachings on the Law of Moses, wouldn't all of the Gospel writers have communicated this as clearly as Matthew and Luke do? Second, this teaching dangerously reduces Jesus to a moral teacher—a view that is incongruous with the whole of Scripture. One can focus on the reconciliatory work of Christ and still (necessarily!) see the significance of his teachings. Focusing first on his teachings obscures the reason the God became flesh.

This Lent, reflect first on what great love is yours in Christ Jesus, who humbled himself to the point of death–even death on a cross—in order to reconcile a sinner like you to God. Then, through the lens of such great love to you and empowered by the Holy Spirit that Jesus promised to those who believe in him, seek to live in love in accordance with the teachings of the one who demonstrated perfect love. One cannot embrace the first without embracing the second; the former necessarily leads to the latter. But one is utterly hopeless in truly living out Jesus' teachings unless the reality of the Cross has transformed him in the innermost.