Categories
Spirituality

How the Spiritual Life is Like Air Travel

Something compels you to travel by plane.  There are people to meet in another city; or there is work to be done in other places; or there are deep and rich and painful histories embedded in earth and stones you must touch to experience; or there is a pleasant oasis to refresh your dry spirit.  You must go.

At the airport, you are aware that home already has been left behind.  This is not a stable place.  It is a transitioning place.  Any stopping here, even for a meal, is temporary.

The cabin door is locked and the plane pulls from the gate.  There is no turning back now, not without literally creating a federal incident.  Taxiing to the runway, waiting in the take-off queue, you stare out from the constricted aperture of your window portal at the great sliver-skinned dragons thundering into the sky ahead of you, hauling faceless cargoes of souls to the far corners of the Earth.

A slight but persistent force compresses you into your seat as jets hung from wispy airfoils — engines of power most people in history could scarcely have imagined — rocket you above solid ground.  The beast dips a wing and banks upward, a resistant mass of pressurized air pushing you up, up, towards a solid bank of clouds, against gravity’s heartless grasp.

Into the cloud deck, all is gray-black-oily-wet.  The beast shivers, wing-tips flexing, skin stretching, rivets straining.  Nothing appears through your portal.  Nothing but a Brownian motion of storm.  You are noplace and you could be anyplace.

Suddenly the dragon’s nose pierces through cloud tops and everything is light.  A dazzling Sun breaks over endless miles of rolling marble-white, perfections of the classical forms, pillars of Hercules, thrones of gods.  From here it is clear:  where you have been, where you are, where you are going.  The petty embroilments of the city you have left have dropped away, the horizon stretches ahead, and everything you see fits into a crisp and beautiful pattern.

Hours later, there are subtle shifts in cabin pressure.  Passengers and crew grow more alert, tense.  Soon the flight will descend once more through a cloud deck of chaotic uncertainty.  It will thump rudely onto the tarmac of a different airport, another transitional space, open to a new city.

In this new city lie your urgent appointments and tasks.  There wait the wisdom and refreshment you seek.  If you stay for any time at all, you will encounter also new entanglements, pains and mysteries, much like and yet much different from those you knew at the place you had called home.  Memories of clear Sun on cloud-tops arrayed over limitless horizons will seem false, inaccessible, unreal.  And you will once again pass through cities and ports and clouds and heights, heights and clouds and ports and cities, stretching out and summing up, rolling on and on and on, until you arrive at the Final City at last.

 

 

Categories
Spirituality

The Most Beautiful Ikon

My ten year old son painted this shell for me.  The cross-shaped figure at the top is Jesus.

My son has epilepsy.  His seizures in recent years have been under control, but he cannot properly process language.  He can communicate and understand many things, but only in his own unique way.

This shell is one of the most precious gifts I’ve ever received.  It points in to the one who is beyond language, beyond “normal” syntax, beyond appearances.  That one looks out from it over the whole world, his arms outstretched from the cross to embrace and take back into it all of creation’s groaning.

Categories
Beauty of the Christian Faith Spirituality Theology

The Beauty of the Christian Faith Faith: Introduction: Sources: Scripture

I’m working on an adult curriculum titled “The Beauty of the Christian Faith.”  It explores the basic elements of Christian faith as expressed in the Nicene Creed.  I’ll be posting excerpts as they’re done.  Here’s the second part of the introduction.  Prior posts can be accessed through the Beauty of the Christian Faith Page.

Introduction

The sources of Christian theology are scripture, tradition, reason, and experience.  Every variety of Christian theology draws on each of these sources.  One of the first decisions we must make when thinking theologically is how to understand the nature of, and relationship between, these sources.

If you grew up in the Catholic or Eastern Orthodox churches, for example, you might have believed that Christianity is all about “tradition.”  If you grew up Protestant, particularly in an independent evangelical church, you might think “scripture” is the only source that matters.  In fact, these poles are distortions.  Neither pole properly reflects the interplay of sources in the historic Christian faith.

It is true that Catholics, the Eastern Orthodox, and Protestants have had very different views about the role of scripture and tradition in relation to each other, and that this remains one of the basic differences between these streams of Christian faith.  But properly understood, Catholicism, Eastern Orthodoxy, and Protestantism each emphasize both scripture and tradition as sources of theological authority, and each also in different ways draw on reason and experience.  The perspective we will develop in this section is broadly Protestant, but we will also interact with Catholic and Eastern Orthodox views.

Scripture

Scripture is the canonical text of the Bible.  By “canonical” we mean those texts that Christians historically have recognized as authoritative.  The Latin term “canon” means “rule.”  The “canonical” scriptures therefore are the “rule” or standard for our faith and practice.  For Protestants, this includes the sixty-six books of the Old and New Testaments.  Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Christians also include some other books, some of which were written during the “intertestamental” period (between the Old and New Testaments).[1]

The canon of Christian scripture was formed over an approximately three-hundred year period following the birth of the early Church.  It included the portions of the Old Testament traditionally recognized as canonical by the Jewish people, as well as additional books written after the death and resurrection of Christ.  Leaders of the early Church evaluated texts for inclusion in the canon based on whether the texts were “apostolic” and consistent with the “Rule of Faith.”   “Apostolic” meant that the book was believed to have been written by one of the twelve Apostles of Jesus (including Paul, who became an Apostle after Jesus’ death and resurrection).  The “Rule of Faith” was a basic summary of Christian belief that emphasized the divinity, death and resurrection of Christ.

This process of defining the Biblical canon took hundreds of years partly because there was not always full agreement on which texts met these criteria.  This is an important point, particularly for those of us from independent Protestant churches:  we only possess a “Bible,” a canon of scripture, because the Church patiently evaluated different texts based on a tradition.  The “story” of Jesus – of his death and resurrection and his founding of the Church – predated the “Bible” and in fact defined the “Bible.”

Christians of various traditions agree that the Bible is not merely a human book.  The Bible is “inspired” by God – it is “God-breathed” (2 Timothy 3:16).[2]  Exactly what the “inspiration” of the Bible implies is a matter of debate, both within and across the different Christian traditions.  Most Christians throughout history have always recognized that, although the Bible is “inspired” and is therefore not merely a human book, it nevertheless is indeed a product of human authors and editors (“redactors”).  Modern Biblical scholarship continues to uncover the fascinating ways in which the cultural settings of the Bible’s human authors and redactors informed their writings.  Nevertheless, Christian theology asserts that because the Bible is “inspired” by God, it is uniquely trustworthy and reliable as the Church’s text.  The Bible is “scripture,” which means that we must read it, understand it, and apply it in a way that differs from a merely human text.

As mentioned in the Introduction, even with this broad agreement about the Bible as “scripture,” Christians of different kinds agree that the Bible is a key source of theological authority, but we do not all agree on the precise nature and role of the Bible as an authority.  All Protestants are heirs of the Reformation, which was an enormous and diverse theological, social, and political movement sparked in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.  A central feature of the Reformation was an emphasis on “scripture alone” – “sola scriptura” – as the final source of authority for Christian faith and practice.  This emphasis was part of the Reformation’s break from the traditional authority of the Roman Catholic Church.

Sola scriptura means that there is no source of theological authority that is higher than the Bible.  It does not mean there are no other sources of authority – the slogan is not “solo” scriptura.  But it does mean that, for Christians in the Reformation tradition, there is no court of appeal beyond scripture, and that no Pope or other person or institution can issue a finally binding statement about Christian faith or practice.



[1] A useful summary of differences among Christian denominations concerning which books are part of the Biblical Canon can be found here:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biblical_canon#Canons_of_various_Christian_traditions

[2] The Greek work in 2 Timothy 3:16 is theopneustosTheo is the root for the word God (theos) and pneustos comes from the root for the word “breath” or “spirit” (pneuma).  This term is not used anywhere else in the Bible (scholars call this a “hapax legomenon” – literally, “a word that is said only once”).  It is also a relatively rare term in classical Greek literature.

Categories
Beauty of the Christian Faith Spirituality Theology

The Beauty of the Christian Faith: Introduction

I’m working on an adult curriculum titled “The Beauty of the Christian Faith.”  It explores the basic elements of Christian faith as expressed in the Nicene Creed.  I’ll be posting excerpts as they’re done.  Here’s the first part of the introduction.

Welcome

Welcome to “The Beauty of the Christian Faith.”  In this class, we’ll explore together the contents of the historic Christian faith.  In formal terms, this class is an introduction to Christian “theology” and “doctrine.”  Our goal is to grow together in knowledge and wisdom so that our hearts are moved deeper into worship of the God who made us and loves us.

“Theology” and “doctrine” are dusty, intimidating words.  So why do we call this class “The Beauty of the Christian Faith?”  When we say something is “beautiful,” we mean that it is pleasing to experience, possesses symmetry and balance, and stirs up emotional responses of wonder, awe and delight.  As you begin to study Christian theology and doctrine, you’ll come to understand that our faith is, indeed, “beautiful.”

Of course, theology and doctrine are not always easy to understand.  Quite often, the study of theology and doctrine disturbs settled assumptions and old ways of living.  This sort of “holy disruption” is sometimes how God draws us closer to Himself.  You will also find that, although most Christians historically have agreed on many things, there have always been areas of significant, unresolved disagreement.  This tension invites us to remain humble, and teaches us to love others.  In fact, with patience, diligence, prayer, and community, you will see that even these unsettling aspects of our faith are part of its powerful beauty. You will also learn to develop your own perspectives, within the broad stream of historic Christianity, so that you can faithfully commend the truth of Christ in mission to the world.

What is Theology?

“Theology” is the human effort to think and speak about God.  In a sense, everyone is a theologian.  Everyone must in some way answer the question whether there is a God.  The act of answering this question is an act of theology, even for someone who concludes there is no God.  Anyone who believes God exists inevitably must have some ideas about what God is like.  This, too, is theology.  Theology is an unavoidable human practice.  It is, in fact, part of what makes us “human.”

Christian theology” is the discipline of thinking and speaking about God with the community of the Christian Church.  Each of the components of this definition is important.

Christian theology is a human act of thinking and speaking.  All theologies are constructed with the limitations of the human mind and human language.  This doesn’t mean that all theologies are equally valid, but it does mean that all theologies are in some way provisional.  It doesn’t mean that we discard or reinvent the concepts and definitions received from the past, but it does mean that we continually return to those concepts and definitions with new context and seeking fresh insight.  Faith always seeks understanding.

Christian theology is a communal act.  No one can practice authentic Christian theology alone.  The community with which Christian theology is practiced is the Christian Church.  We say that theology is practiced with the Church to emphasize that no individual stands above the Church.  We are each, as followers of Christ, members of his community, his “body” (Ephesians 5:30).  We learn from each other and support each other, and all of us together stand in the presence of the “great cloud of witnesses” who have gone before us (Hebrews 12:1).

We also say theology is practiced with the Church because Christian theology is an act of worship.  The purpose of Christian theology is not to win debating points or to impress others with our knowledge.  The purpose of Christian theology is to exalt and adore and wonder and grow in faith, hope and love, in the presence of our good and beautiful God.

Finally, Christian theology is a discipline.  It takes effort and practice and study.  It doesn’t always come easily.  Its apprentices are many and its masters are very few.

Sources of Christian Theology

 Introduction

The sources of Christian theology are scripture, tradition, reason, and experience.  Every variety of Christian theology draws on each of these sources.  One of the first decisions we must make when thinking theologically is how to understand the nature of, and relationship between, these sources.

If you grew up in the Catholic or Eastern Orthodox churches, for example, you might have believed that Christianity is all about “tradition.”  If you grew up Protestant, particularly in an independent evangelical church, you might think “scripture” is the only source that matters.  In fact, these poles are distortions.  Neither pole properly reflects the interplay of sources in the historic Christian faith.

It is true that Catholics, the Eastern Orthodox, and Protestants have had very different views about the role of scripture and tradition in relation to each other, and that this remains one of the basic differences between these streams of Christian faith.  But properly understood, Catholicism, Eastern Orthodoxy, and Protestantism each emphasize both scripture and tradition as sources of theological authority, and each also in different ways draw on reason and experience.  The perspective we will develop in this section is broadly Protestant, but we will also interact with Catholic and Eastern Orthodox views.

Categories
Humor Spirituality

The Evolution of a Worshipper

HT:  The Logic of Faith

Categories
Spirituality Theology

N.D. Wilson on Bell: Ugly

N.D. Wilson writes on Rob Bell in the current issue of Books & Culture.  I don’t agree with some of Rob Bell’s conclusions in “Love Wins” (to the extent I can figure out what he concludes), but Wilson’s piece is just atrocious.  Here’s something I sent in to B&C, but I don’t think they’ll have the space to print it.  What bothers me most about Wilson’s piece (and about a similar blog post by Jamie Smith, much as I respect Jamie), is the notion that a sense of aesthetics, a gut-sense that God just can’t be how He is portrayed by some folks, is an invalid source of knowledge.  I think that aesthetic sense, that pit you get in the stomach when something just sounds wrong, often serves as an important pointer towards truth.  Here’s the text of my long letter to B&C:

Apparently, for N.D. Wilson (“Pensive Rabbits,” July / August 2011), God is free to act arbitrarily and call it “good.”  There is no sense, it seems from Wilson’s review Rob Bell’s “Love Wins,” in which God’s inherent character might constrain the ways in which God acts.  Nor is the any sense in which the imago Dei in humans, or the subtle presence of the Holy Spirit, might prove useful as a hermeneutical lens for discerning whether some particular account of how God supposedly acts really is True.  Bizarrely, Wilson the novelist (does he write ugly stories?) decries Bell’s appeal to aesthetics as bizarre.  Never mind the vital role aesthetics has played in the development of Christian conceptions of Truth down through the millennia of Christian thought.

Could it be that when something strikes us as terribly “ugly,” that thing is splattering against the Truth of God’s image deep within us?  I felt this recently when I took a tour of the Auschwitz concentration camp outside Krakow, Poland.  I was in Krakow for a theology conference on the theme “What is Life.”  I learned more during that tour of Auschwitz than I did from any of the papers given during the conference (many of which were excellent).  I suppose that, for Wilson, the visceral ugliness of Auschwitz doesn’t convey any Truth at all.  For my part, I think the bile I felt in my throat during my tour of Auschwitz was the image of God pressing against every cell in my body — literally, a “visceral” reaction, deep in my viscera — against the horror of the death camps.

This is why I think Bell is entirely right to raise the “hippidy-hipster’s” cynical “Really” in response to the stories of Heaven and Hell we so often like to tell.  A young Hindu woman, forced into sexual slavery because of her family’s debts, dies forsaken in a brothel of AIDS, never having heard the name of Jesus.  She is immediately escorted to the eternal conscious torment of Hell.  All of this ultimately glorifies God.  “Really?” Yet that is the story much of popular Evangelical soteriology would force us to swallow.  Should we all shout “Sig, Heil!”?  “Hail Victory” does sound like a catchy title for a Praise and Worship song.  Or does the naked ugliness of this story hint that it isn’t really Truth?

Wilson’s response is a strange, quasi-modalistic fideism.  If Jesus thinks “the earth is the center of the universe,” Wilson asserts in his concluding Credo, “[t]hen so do I.”  Wilson’s disregard for the other two important persons one might want to consult — the Father and the Holy Spirit — is telling.  For Wilson, God’s (or I suppose “Jesus'”) actions can be arbitrary.  There is no relation between the economic and immanent Trinity.  God does not act as God in His Triune being is — he acts as pure power.  So why bother with the Trinity at all?

Wilson’s implied modalism leads to his baffling use of the present tense concerning what “Jesus thinks.”  How can we know what “Jesus thinks” (present tense)?  We of course know some things that Jesus “thought” as described in the Gospels.  We have to employ all sorts of theological and herementuetical grids to begin to get at what those things mean for us, particularly when we try to construct doctrine.  Should we, say, hate our parents (Luke 14:26)?  What did Jesus mean by that?  And we have no idea at all what Jesus “thought” about most things during his life on earth.  The doctrines of the incarnation and the kenosis ensure that Jesus the man held many typical first-century Jewish ideas that educated people, including Wilson, don’t hold today.  Maybe even things like geocentric cosmology.  But all of this is the sort of stuff only smarmy skinny-jean clad seminarians talk about while they sip lattes in the div school cafe.  A real man like Wilson can let all that pass.

So how do we know what Jesus — or better, the Triune God — “thinks” today?  We do what believers in the Triune God revealed in Jesus Christ have always done.  We exercise faith that seeks understanding.  We search the scriptures.  We use the minds and the experiences God has given us — including our innate, God-imaging sense of aesthetics — and we listen for the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit.  We look deep into the tradition of thought bequeathed by those who have gone before us in the faith.  If what we come up with seems awfully ugly, if the Spirit within us wants to retch, we keep working on it.  We don’t settle for Auschwitz when shalom is who God in His perichoretic being is.  Some of Bell’s answers are wrong, but “Really” is the right question to ask of many of the hideous God-stories we tell.

 

Categories
Ecclesiology Spirituality

Ministry in the 21st Century

There’s a nice interview in the current Christian Century with Josh Carney, Teaching Pastor at University Baptist Church, near Baylor University.  Carney is a young pastor in a demographically diverse evangelical / free church congregation that attracts many well educated students — sounds familiar!  A few excerpts:

What has the transition toward more age diversity been like? Any bumps?

It’s been exciting. My heartbeat is for families, and as this group grows it presents an opportunity to get to know and love more people. The major hurdle has to do with congregational identity. An increase in families means a need for more resources for them, and when we shift resources we make statements about mission and identity. We are trying to figure out who we are in a way that both affirms the historical and makes room for the new.

What other parts of being in ministry have been challenging?

Working out how specifically to pursue our mission as a church. It hasn’t been difficult for us to identify how God would have us be kingdom people in the world. What’s been harder is determining the best way to accomplish this. For example, we might all agree that the kingdom that Jesus proclaims compels us to work to alleviate suffering. But what is the best, most responsible way to do this?

Is the debate about prioritizing what kinds of suffering to address? Or about direct service versus systemic change?

Both. Because we’re close to a university, we’ve had to learn that on just about every issue—theological or otherwise—our community is full of opinions that are both extremely educated and extremely diverse. A lot of people have had experiences that shape the way they see the world—and what they think the solutions for the world’s ills are.

The challenge is to engage and serve the world in a distinctively kingdom way. Instead most of us quickly let our political ideology dictate how we do this. We need to continually pray that the Holy Spirit would illuminate the countercultural love option that Jesus offers—the third way that comes through gospel imagination.

What’s something important you’ve learned in ministry?

As the world changes, people don’t. Folks do lots of things they didn’t do ten years ago: carry iPhones, send Facebook messages, buy fuel-efficient cars. But people are hurt the same way and need the gospel the same way they did ten years, 100 years or even 2,000 years ago.

There is much within evangelical culture that is now seen as unhealthy and misguided. We at UBC have rejected much of our immediate past. In the constructive phase, the natural tendency seemed to be to look back further by exploring the liturgy of the church. Here we found much that was helpful—and we found that some of our objections had already been addressed.

Slowly, we’ve begun to reidentify what was useful about our immediate, painful pasts as well. It’s been refreshing to create new liturgy and find gifts from all of the church’s seasons.

Has this process of exploring the past been largely about worship and liturgy, or has it touched other areas of the church’s life as well?

I’d say that all the changes we’ve experienced have fallen under the umbrella of ecclesiology. A pastor friend says that everything comes down to ecclesiology, and the longer I do this ministry, the more I agree.

What developments would you like to see in your congregation’s mission? In the wider church’s?

I hope that the church—both our local expression and the larger one that we’re part of—learns to be more creative. I feel that a lot of our problems come from a lack of imagination.

When the pesky Pharisees try to trap Jesus by asking if he thinks they ought to pay the temple tax, he offers one of those  answers that turns the question on its head. Caesar’s image is on the money, so it belongs to him. Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s. But what has God’s image on it? Well, we do. The creation testifies about God. In fact, the creation exists because God breathed it, and all of this creation belongs to God.

Jesus both critiqued the world and loved it. He was never satisfied to give a response that lived within the parameters of the question. He found a better way, a third way to respond—and the world stood in awe as it saw God move within history. Our lack of this kind of imagination is evident in our politics, in our wars and unfortunately even in the church. But this can change. My prayer is that Christians will be imaginative Jesus people.

Describe an experience that made you think, “This is what church is all about.”

A lot of what I’ve said so far is about the church’s immanent ministry, how it engages the world. But this has to be rooted in transcendent ministry, in the worshiping community.

One Sunday at UBC the last song the band played was the doxology. It was time to make the transition to the learning portion of worship, but something within me was profoundly content to sit in God’s presence. I found myself standing in the peace of God which transcends understanding, filled with an inexpressible joy and overwhelmed by love.

All the community gardens, mission trips, relationships with local school districts and low-income housing complexes—if all that work is not about this kind of moment, if it’s not about participating in the divine dance that has been going on for all eternity, then it misses the point. We are because God is.

Categories
Spirituality

Auschwitz

Today I visited the Auschwitz museum outside Krakow, Poland.  There’s not much intelligent I can say about it at the moment.  Probably there’s not much intelligent anyone can say about it.   Anyone who wants to teach about the rule of law, and anyone who wants to talk about God, should have to visit this place.  No theory of public life and no theology that fails to look this place in the face is worth any attention.

Categories
Science & Technology Spirituality Theology

New Post on BioLogos: Humanity as and in Creation

My next post is up on BioLogos:  Humanity as and in Creation.

Categories
Daybook Spirituality

Daybook: Week of June 19, 2011

With this post, I’m rebooting my Daybook.  Obviously, I failed to keep it going every day.  Perhaps I can do better making it a weekly entry.  So here goes….

Scripture for the Week

Song of Songs 1-2

Reflection

This week’s Reflection is from Divine Eros:  The Hymns of St. Symeon the New Theologian.

What is this spine-chilling mystery that is being accomplished
in me?
In no way can a word recount, nor can
my miserable hand write to the praise and glory
of Him Who is above praise, of Him Who is beyond telling.
For, tell me, if the things now being accomplished in me the
profligate
are inexpressible and unutterable, how would
He Who is the author and maker of such wonders
need praise from us, or need to receive glory?
No, for He Who has been glorified cannot be glorified,
in the same way that the sun that is seen by us in the cosmos
could not be illumined nor partake of light;
the sun gives light, it is not enlightened; it enlightens, it does
not receive light.
For the sun has the light that it received from the beginning,
from the Creator.
And so if God, the Creator of everything, has made the sun,
and has created without need, only to bring to light a
bounteous flame,
and in no way from any other greater need,
how would He receive glory from lowly me?