Recently in Theology and Thought Category

Yesterday I attended one of the "12 Conversations in 12 Cities" leading up to the Lausanne meeting in October in Capetown, South Africa. The focus was the relationship between the church, the gospel and social justice. A panel of respected Christian thinkers and leaders interacted on some difficult questions, and it was a good and worthwhile time.

Listening, the basic question came to me: What, exactly, is the gospel? I think some of our problem is that we have failed to fully understand this term with all its implications. Some refer to a "social gospel" while others hold to a "spiritual gospel."

I love the church. I have little patience with those who are anti-"organized religion," or even more, who claim to be Christians but choose to have nothing to do with a local congregation. They are disobedient children at best, spiritual whores at worst.

The church - the organized manifestation of the people of God - has problems. It is by no means perfect. But the same can be said about every alternative. It's universally true simply because the presence of people means the presence of problems. And this principle is further compounded because these particular people - the people of God - have an active enemy committed to their destruction.

God is a God of justice. Therefore, how could he arbitrarily designate certain people as "created for destruction"?

God provided the means to satisfy his justice, so that he could exercise his mercy. That means was Jesus.

Well, I finally did it. I finally got a copy of The Shack, and sat down to read it. When it comes to fiction, I am not on the cutting edge of things. But some folks have asked me to read it and respond. In fact, they asked me back when the book first came out, years ago. So, promptly answering the call of friendship, here it is.

I confess I am not much of a reader of fiction. It's not that I don't like it, but that I have so much other stuff to read, I just don't have time. But I was up to my eyeballs in the theology book I was reading, and needed something "light." So I picked up The Shack.

My first concern was that I would lose interest and not finish. That didn't happen. I read through it in less than 48 hours.

It's funny, the things you can find in scripture sometimes. Like last night, in a discussion centered on Jude, I was reading along in verse 5. Perhaps you know the place: "But I want to remind you, though you once knew this, that the Lord, having saved the people out of the land of Egypt, afterward destroyed those who did not believe."

Though I have read this passage many times, last night I first noticed that "Lord" is not in small caps. Significance?

For years, Paul's letter to the Romans has been a puzzle. Paul would never have passed a freshman composition course. It's hard to read his long, meandering sentences and follow his often convoluted thoughts. I suspect I'm not the only one with that sort of story about Paul, but I'm willing to cut him some slack. He is, after all, more than any other person, responsible for the shape of Christianity.

One of the portions that made me crazy was Chapter 5. There's so much to say about this chapter, it's hard to know where to begin. Let's start by talking about this idea of exulting in tribulations.

"The choice before us isn't just whether or not to listen to our Scriptures and place our faith in [Jesus]. The choice is whether or not to have any meaning and fulfillment in our lives. That's why Moses told us, shortly before we entered the Promised Land, "I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. So choose life in order that you may live" (Deuteronomy 30:19).

You are chosen. Will you heed the call?"

by Avi Snyder, writing in Issues, published by Jews for Jesus.

Jesus said we would always have poor people among us. In a broken world such as ours, it seems a fact of life. But should it be? Is it necessary that most of the world struggles simply to survive? That children die by thousands for lack of clean water? That "poor" in America equals "rich" in much of the world?

It's true, you know. There is appalling pain and hardship around the world. And the American church - the wealthiest church in history - is making only a small dent in the problem. This is not a good thing.

I can't begin to count the times I have heard or been in conversations about the Law. That's the Law of Moses, as in the Ten Commandments - and a lot more.

Some say the Law is no longer valid. But then others respond, "So, you mean it's okay to murder, steal and chase your neighbor's wife?" Well, no, comes the reply. Of course not.

Others say the Law is still in effect, and we are obligated to keep it. But then some respond, "So, you mean we're supposed go to Jerusalem to offer sacrifices?" Well, no, is the reply. Of course not.

I know who I'm not, but who am I?

Periodically, I find myself wanting to watch a movie. Not just any movie. I'm not really a film buff, and don't watch many. But this is for a specific movie, a relatively old one that I originally thought had a pretty stupid story line. The movie is "The Kid," starring Bruce Willis. It's about a 40-year-old man meeting his 8-year-old self and learning who he really is.

Last night was our house church meeting. It's a night I normally look forward to, but this time the events of the evening left me deeply disturbed. What happened raised in my mind questions of what things characterize Christians. How are Christians - the people of God - different?

There was some discussion about living as a Christian - mostly things Christians do not do. And it's evident, I think, that socially and personally destructive practices should have no place in the life of God's people.

But I have been concerned that "Christians" very often define themselves by what they do not do, or do not believe. The world sees Christians as people who are against everything fun, interesting, or pleasurable. Christians often come across as colorless, bland and boring people who have little or nothing positive to say about anything.

If you died right now, would you go to heaven?

Have you ever heard that question? Ever asked it? When I was growing up in a wound-very-tight fundamentalist church, that question was at the heart of "witnessing." It was at the heart of "the gospel." We were expected to ask The Question of people we encountered. Few of us did that, but that's another matter.

Nevertheless, it's an interesting question. If I died right now, what would happen to me? What happens to anyone at the end of this life? Is our ultimate destination heaven? Hell? Neither? Does the Bible care? Should we?

I've been reading N.T. Wright's book, Surprised by Hope. It's a fascinating read, about heaven, resurrection and the mission of the church. The premise is that we can't understand the mission or purpose of the church - that's you and me - without understanding heaven and resurrection. And of course, heaven and resurrection can't be addressed without considering the book of Revelation, one of the most fascinating of biblical books. Some years back, I read Eugene Peterson's Reversed Thunder, the best book I have read on Revelation.

So Bishop Wright got me thinking about Revelation again, and I decided to read it once more. It's not going smoothly. Even in the first chapter, I get hung up on things I have read many times, but that now make me stop and say, "What does that mean, anyway?"

If there was ever a question with a predictable answer - at least among Christians - here it is: "Does God love me?" Of course He does. God loves everyone, doesn't He? I mean, we all know there's only one acceptable answer to the question. Even if we don't really believe the answer.

A more interesting question might be, "Does God like me?" That, as they say, is "a whole 'nother matter."

As I have asked people these two questions, invariably they answer, without hesitation, yes, God loves me. But very often, when I ask the second question, they get a distant look, sort of a sad expression, and shaking their head, they say, "No, I don't think so."

In my last two posts, I have written, first, about the powerless church, a church that is increasingly irrelevant in an increasingly secularized America. Then, I wrote of the first step in renewing the church, bringing it to life, the first step in becoming a credible factor in society: reclaiming the gospel.

But there's another question - a big one - as yet unanswered: How does all this happen? How does the church reclaim the gospel - the whole, biblical, life-transforming gospel? And how does the church go from being "just words" to living out life-transforming power? How do we move from being an irrelevant subculture of more-or-less nice people to a community of radically committed followers and representatives of Jesus?

I think there are two major factors: our concept of God, and leadership.

Friday, I had a pleasant evening, with dinner at a small Mediterranean place near our home, followed by a movie, Evan Almighty. The dinner was passably good, but the movie, to my surprise, touched me deeply, and has had me thinking ever since.

The story is about a guy, Evan, who is out to change the world, and who gets elected to Congress on that platform. His life is radically rearranged when God takes his "change the world" talk seriously, and gives him a job to do: build an ark.

Good Friday, the worst/best Friday ever.

"Do not think that I came to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I did not come to abolish but to fulfill. For truly I say to you, until heaven and earth pass away, not the smallest letter or stroke shall pass from the Law until all is accomplished. Whoever then annuls one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, shall be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever keeps and teaches them, he shall be called great in the kingdom of heaven. For I say to you that unless your righteousness surpasses that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven" (Matthew 5:17-20).

What does this passage mean? I don't think it's all that obvious.

I was listening to a sermon Sunday, and suddenly the phrase "grain of wheat" struck me and wouldn't go away. I have been struggling with the adjustment from employment to retirement. It's the hardest adjustment I have ever faced. Going from a lifetime of challenging jobs, supervising people, solving problems, having a purpose and goal every day, to...what?

Now nobody cares if I get up in the morning. Nobody cares how I spend my day. And from my perspective, the matter of my own significance is undecided. I want to be significant. I want my life to matter, to make a difference. It's too hard not to have something important as the outcome.

Sometimes I struggle with reality. Know what I mean? It's not that I'm hallucinating or anything like that. And I have never used mind-altering substances, even without inhaling. Yet I struggle. It's not that reality is hard to take, though the shape the world's in isn't very encouraging. The problem is in knowing what is reality: What's really real?

My problem is wondering if my idea of what it means to know God and follow Jesus is all just wishful thinking. Am I just off in Loonieland, all by myself?

Back in October, I posted an article about God's silence. I want to revisit the subject, because I think it's a badly misunderstood topic for most modern western Christians. Here's some of what I wrote originally:

"Where is God? I mean, if God is everywhere, as theologians teach, and if God loves me deeply and wants a relationship of intimacy with me, as theologians also teach, where is he? I talk, talk, talk to him, and he is ... where? He says nothing. The conversation is decidedly one-sided."

A while back I posted a piece on the question, "If all that is permitted to you in this life is to truly know God, is that enough?" The question came out of watching the movie The Diving Bell and the Butterfly."I have struggled mightily with the question since.

I would like to say, of course, that knowing God is central in my life and there is nothing to compare with it. Of course my answer would be yes. But I had trouble saying it without feeling like I wasn't really being honest.

And yet, the longing of my heart is to truly know God and to serve him. What's the problem?

I had a conversation recently with a friend, someone who is very bright and is by any definition an achiever. My friend - a scientist - is now more than fully occupied with the non-science demands of raising a family. And my friend - while understanding the importance and privilege of shaping young lives - struggles with missing the mental challenges and the sense of fulfillment that comes from using a very good mind in one's chosen field.

I well understand the situation. As they say, "Been there, done that." And I don't like it. I struggle with it.

Knowing God is an interesting subject. So is knowing about God. But the two are clearly not the same. My guess is that a large majority of people who claim to know God would, on careful consideration, be found to know about God, but not to know God to any significant degree. And probably a large majority of self-identified Christians would say they do not "know" God. They would likely be correct.

Every now and then, something will come to my attention that I find somewhat startling. Often, these things prompt questions that some folks consider outrageous or worse, but that response doesn't bother me. After all, what's life without a little controversy now and then? Boring.

Here's what I noticed, and I wonder about the significance of it.

Where is God? I mean, if God is everywhere, as theologians teach, and if God loves me deeply and wants a relationship of intimacy with me, as theologians also teach, where is he? I talk, talk, talk to him, and he is ... where? He says nothing. The conversation is decidedly one-sided.

Is there such a thing as a saved Unitarian? I mean, can one not believe in the Trinity and be a follower of Jesus?

I just read - not for the first time - that among fundamental beliefs necessary to calling oneself a Christian is the teaching that God is trinitarian: One God existing in three coequal persons.

But I struggle with this. Everyone struggles with the Trinity, which is beyond difficult to understand completely, but I struggle with making it a requirement.