OK, I know that I should be thankful that I merely have access to a Bible to read. In all honesty I'm probably significantly less thankful than I ought to be, but I think I am. Anyway, after nearly 10 years as a born again Christian I still can't find a translation I like.
I'm not one of these fundamentalists who thinks that certain Bible translation are straight from the pit of hell, but nevertheless there are plenty I just don't like. Thou understandeth no more than one in eight utterances of thy Majesty's Holy Writ. (Yes, I realize that makes no sense grammatically. Don't hate me, Dr. Williams.) The NKJV ain't too bad, but feels awkward. Kinda like it can't figure out what it's supposed to be saying. Similar to my experience talking to girls in the 7th grade. If memory serves, HCSB is the official Bible of the Southern Baptist Convention and prompted by a feud with Zondervan over the price of NIVs. Fabulous. (Though, if you know your Church history, that's no less shady than the KJV. Nothing like a translation that's a politically savvy compromise to pacify Puritans.) The ESV's roots go back to Focus on the Family (no, I'm not kidding) and its advisory committee reads like a Who's Who? of contemporary Reformed leaders. Yuck. The NIV got the job done in 3rd grade Sunday School, but reading it makes me feel like Billy Madison. If the NIV makes me feel like Billy Madison, the NLT makes me want to say, "Ta-ta-today, junior!" The NASB, so heavily advocated at Moody and TFC, has zero poetic beauty. It's the literary equivalent of Hayden Christensen's portrayal of Anakin Skywalker. Trying a little too hard yet somehow still manages to end up wooden. The Message has its purpose, but it's a bit like a blog. In Dr. Juncker's hermeneutics course we had an assignment where we had to find just awful passage translations. That convinced me that Eugene Peterson grabbed his NIV and just started indiscriminately paraphrasing it in something of a stream of consciousness manner. It wouldn't surprise me if he completed it in a month. Phillip's The New Testament in Modern English is pretty stellar, but do I really want to be encouraging Christianity's longstanding salutary neglect of the Old Testament? Don't get me wrong. Each of the above has its purpose, but I've yet to find a Bible I just enjoy reading.
Another element to this equation is that I want to start anew. The NIV reminds me of my time in the Assemblies of God. The NKJV reminds me of when I thought the AG wasn't Pentecostal enough. The NASB marks my time at Moody as does the ESV for my short-lived Reformed period. And my NIV-NASB parallel Bible, which was my attempt at a compromise, reminds me of my spiritual/theological turmoil while at TFC. Moreover, my theological conceptions have shifted rather dramatically since June as I've been getting into classic English evangelicals, Postfoundationalism, interdisciplinary theology, Paleoorthodoxy, the New Perspective on Paul, the Emerging Church, the House Church Movement, Postliberalism, and a touch of Neo-orthodoxy. Specifically, I've been reading F. F. Bruce, Roger Olson, Kevin Vanhoozer, Stanley Grenze, John Franke, LeRon Shults, Walter Brueggemann, Bruce Metzger, N.T. Wright, Thomas Oden, Robert Webber, Milt Rodriguez, Frank Viola, Hans Frei, Brad Young, John Walton, Kenneth Bailey, and Karl Barth. Point being, these are movement and theologians I would've never encountered before. Also, my expectations of the Bible were really off for a number of years. If I may be candid, reading the Bible thoroughly pissed me off there for a while. Yet again, Philip Yancey has been saving my faith and restoring my desire to read the Bible.
So yesterday I came across the NRSV in a bookstore. Hadn't thought much about it before, but just recently I'd heard good things about it. For some reason I'd never really considered it as viable option. Called my buddy to get his take. First thing he said is, "N.T. Wright likes it." You had me at hello, Tom Cruise. Sense prevailed, though. I decided to go home and research it rather than go with the impulse buy. Haven't bought one yet, but having completed said research here are the reasons I'm switching to the NRSV:
1. The translation committee was headed up by my boy, Bruce G. Metzger.
2. It's used by Protestants all over the spectrum, unlike the NIV and NASB which are primarily (though not exclusively) used by conservative/fundamentalist evangelicals.
3. It's something of a middle ground between NIV's thought-for-thought and NASB's literal translation.
4. Contains the apocrypha.
5. Translators include Protestants, Anglican (if you want to make that distinction), Catholic, and Orthodox scholars, and even one non-Christian Jewish scholar.
6. It's an ecumenical translation being used by some Orthodox, much of Protestantism, and officially endorsed by the Vatican.
7. I agree with its approach to the gender-inclusive issue.
8. While not a big fan of the ol' King Jimmy, I like the NRSV's historical connection: KJV (1611)--> KJV (1769)--> RV--> ASV--> NRS--> NRSV. I'm really looking forward to the X-NRSV², by the way. It's similar to the reason I like Catholicism and Anglicanism. I find beauty and stability in traditions with deep roots in Church history, unlike most of contemporary evangelicalism. Is it any coincidence that evangelicals love the NIV?
9. Endorsed by such theologians as N.T. Wright, Walter Brueggemann, and Scot McKnight.
10. This is subjective, but I absolutely loathe columns in my Bible. Nothin' fosters reverence and awe like reading a Bible that feels like you're NY Times article about Jesus. The NRSV copy I'm looking at has only the poetic books in columns, which I'm okay with.
This isn't a good reason reason so I couldn't justify putting it the Top 10, but I like that no church I've ever attended has used it. Makes me feel like I'm stickin' to The Man.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Sunday, December 27, 2009
An Open Letter to President Obama
Dear President Obama,
It is with the utmost solemnity that I write this letter. While not usually one to take such a definitive political position, I've been prompted to action by my grave concern about the country's present direction and potential future. It may be too late, but I feel that it's time for people like me to take a political stand for the future of this Christian nation.
The issue weighing most heavily on my mind is the erosion of our rights evidenced in the socialization of our health care system. The country has been inundated by speech after speech on the necessity of reforming the system. I've heard nonstop rhetoric about providing health insurance for 35 million currently uninsured Americans and importance of forbidding insurance companies from refusing to cover pre-existing conditions, but you fail to address the big picture. Ultimately this isn't about people's health care, but the future of free market enterprise. Corporations are businesses, and businesses need to make money. It's their prerogative to determine who they'll cover and for what. The top five health insurance companies averaged a profit of $1.56 billion in fiscal year 2008. That shows that the system is working as it ought. My heart goes out to those people who have suffered and died for lack of coverage, but those who have worked hard and were responsible to have the proper coverage when they need it shouldn't be punished for the irresponsibility of others. Yes, someone occasionally slips through the cracks, but that has been the exception rather than the rule. These unfortunate examples should not give rise to efficiency killing government bureaucracy. It should not give the government license to determine how private enterprises conduct their affairs, nor should they be forced to engage in practices that aren't financially advantageous. Who is the government to cut into corporations' profit margins? In a blatant show of what can only be described as anti-Americanism, you and your leftist cronies are putting a select few people's lives ahead of these corporations' ability to make money. Brilliant truth-tellers, men like Glen Beck, Bill O'Reilly, and Rush Limbaugh, won't be suppressed by the liberal media, though. They have opened the eyes of many of us conservatives. We see that this issue truly is about our fundamental rights within our capitalist system, which have long been the backbone of this country. And don't get me started on the government's mandating how individual citizens spend their money. In all due respect, Mr. President, you've got your facts and priorities all screwed up.
The shifting direction of our foreign policy has been no less radical. You want to reduce our nuclear arsenal. Haven't you read that Jesus didn't come to bring peace, but the sword? I'd encourage you to keep in mind Jerry Falwell's advice during the Reagan administration. He said that we need to be able to destroy other nations before they destroy us. Moreover, I'm appalled by the way we're surrendering our national sovereignty to the U.N. The purpose of that organization has long been to contain imperialistic, power-hungry nations that would use their military to intimidate or threaten other nations. Yes, the naive pacifists are right that the U.S. has 2.7 million military personnel scattered across 737 military bases in foreign countries, but their cynical appraisal only tells half the story. These people fail to acknowledge that our nation, which is a bastion of freedom and prosperity, isn't out for its own national interests. We wouldn't use our military might to intimidate the international community. We use our economic and military influence only when it's necessary for bringing positive change to the world, not to engage in unilateral war for our own economic advantage. And we most certainly wouldn't use covert actions to undermine hostile governments or nuclear weapons to destroy an enemy. We have our espionage and nuclear programs only for protection and deterrence, respectively. By submitting our nation to the U.N.'s will, you're reducing our ability to contain out-of-control rogue nations with imperialistic aspirations. Our altruistic nation doesn't need the U.N. playing Big Brother, telling us what is best for the world. I think we're wise enough to decide that on our own.
While I'm on the topic of bowing to the rest of the world, are you really willing to kill the U.S. economy by submitting to international standards on pollution? We were the last beacon of hope, the last major country not to buy into that worldwide hoax. I'm not irrational, but I am a pragmatist. Global warming is ridiculous, but smog is a real issue. Yet with our economy remaining on the brink of disaster, our chief national concern has got to be our economic stability, not the pacifying of a bunch of tree huggers. If people can't breathe, they should move somewhere else. There's plenty of land elsewhere in this country for asthmatics. In the meantime, I'd point out that corporations are getting a bad wrap. They care about not only making money, but also the future well-being of this country. They don't need any more regulation. I remain confident that they're doing all they can in a cost-effective manner to keep pollution to a minimum. Besides, didn't God tell us that we're supposed to have "dominion" over the earth? We're supposed to use it for our needs. That's what God intended it for.
As for illegal immigration, don't you know your American history? Our country has been plagued by wave after wave of illegal immigrants who have continually produced ethnic and religious tension. Additionally, simple supply and demand economics tells us that the presence of uneducated manual laborers drives down wages and steals employment from the native citizens. Now before some muckraking liberal tries to undermine these facts with gotcha journalism, I'll be open and honest about the skeletons in my closet: Yes, my ancestors were Prussian mercenaries for the British who came here during the Revolution. They didn't violate immigration laws, however, as there weren't any at the time. I say that if the Mexicans want to come to this country, they should at least have the decency to start by obeying the laws of the land. If they don't have the means to enter this country legally and begin the nationalization process, then they should stay in Mexico and work toward its betterment. I don't mean to sound crass, but illegal immigrants have long brought trouble to this country. As far as I'm concerned, we need to round them up and ship them out.
Regarding our budget, we all know it's spiraling out of control. This level of spending is unsustainable. Temporarily setting aside the fact I obviously disagree with you on issues like public housing, poverty relief, and health care, how can we possibly remain the sole global superpower and fund essential spending like education and infrastructure? At some point we're going to have to make tough decisions between retaining our military prowess and all this domestic spending. You should be ashamed of yourself for putting the well-being of subsequent generations at risk. It'll be a tragedy when we have to start closing down public schools because we just cannot afford them anymore.
Although this issue is near and dear to my heart, I'll keep my comments about Israel brief. I understand that you're critical of the Israeli military's techniques in suppressing Palestinian terrorism. There is no delicate, politically correct way to write this, but haven't you read the Bible? No wait, you're Muslim. I recant that question. The short version for you Mohammedans is that Palestinians aren't God's people! They're modern-day Canaanites. Holy Scripture demands that they be crushed if they deny the validity of the Israeli government's conquest of their homeland, resist the continual incursion of Israeli settlements into what little land they have left, or if they're ungrateful for the ghettos that the Israeli government has generously provided. Just as it's unfortunate that a nation like ours which was founded on biblical principles has had to do some uncomfortable things to win the War on Terror, so Israel has had to do whatever is necessary to preserve its existence. Elitist academic liberals claim that hostility and suppression only breed more hatred and conflict, but who is man to question these things? God's ways are not our ways. His thoughts are not our thoughts. His understanding infinitely surpasses our ability to understand. If God wants us to support Israel, then Palestinian human rights be damned! Our responsibility is to protect God's people at any cost. I genuinely believe that this is a big reason by God established our country and has continued to bless us through the years.
There's much else to be written about, but I'll limit myself to one one major concern: Supreme Court nominations. Anyone who has attended a good, conservative Bible college knows that good hermeneutics is key to the interpretation of any text. In this situation, the text is the United States Constitution. Proper hermeneutical methodology dictates that the text cannot say what it never said. That is, one cannot, or should not, read ever-changing contemporary contexts back into our interpretation of the document. Constitutional law must be built upon the original intentions of the Founding Fathers. For example, the Second Amendment states, "A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed." Clearly this means that automatic weapons and fingerprint resistant handguns should be legally available to all citizens. As far as I'm concerned, this liberal ideology that has supposedly turned the Constitution into a "living document" is yet another example of absurd, baseless evolution. Liberal agendas have produced some of the worst judicial tyranny in American history, including suffrage for minorities, women, and non-property owners. Now, please don't misunderstand me. I'm not racist, nor am I an unreasonable man. I affirm your people's rights. Brown v. Board of Education was a joke, but since the Founding Fathers intended that the three-fifths compromise expire over two centuries ago, I think it's fine for there to be a black president even if you shouldn't be able to vote. Anyway, though your law degree comes from Harvard, one of the country's most liberal institutions, since you taught Constitutional law at the University of Chicago Law School I remain hopeful that you'll see the wisdom in my belief that Supreme Court justices must stick strictly to authorial intent.
I hope you know that many of us are praying for you: Psalm 109:8-9.
Sincerely,
Carson T. Clark
-----------------------
It really impairs the comedic effect that I have to say this, but I have this sneaking suspicion that a lot of both my conservative and liberal readers will take this post to be a wholesale endorsement of liberalism in general and this new health care legislation specifically. Both sides will assume that because I'm critiquing the right I must be advocating the left. That's simply a false assumption. Keep in mind that the sub-title of this blog is "The assorted thoughts of a hard-lining moderate." For a more thorough explanation as to what my intentions actually are, check out my first comment when this has been imported into facebook.
It is with the utmost solemnity that I write this letter. While not usually one to take such a definitive political position, I've been prompted to action by my grave concern about the country's present direction and potential future. It may be too late, but I feel that it's time for people like me to take a political stand for the future of this Christian nation.
The issue weighing most heavily on my mind is the erosion of our rights evidenced in the socialization of our health care system. The country has been inundated by speech after speech on the necessity of reforming the system. I've heard nonstop rhetoric about providing health insurance for 35 million currently uninsured Americans and importance of forbidding insurance companies from refusing to cover pre-existing conditions, but you fail to address the big picture. Ultimately this isn't about people's health care, but the future of free market enterprise. Corporations are businesses, and businesses need to make money. It's their prerogative to determine who they'll cover and for what. The top five health insurance companies averaged a profit of $1.56 billion in fiscal year 2008. That shows that the system is working as it ought. My heart goes out to those people who have suffered and died for lack of coverage, but those who have worked hard and were responsible to have the proper coverage when they need it shouldn't be punished for the irresponsibility of others. Yes, someone occasionally slips through the cracks, but that has been the exception rather than the rule. These unfortunate examples should not give rise to efficiency killing government bureaucracy. It should not give the government license to determine how private enterprises conduct their affairs, nor should they be forced to engage in practices that aren't financially advantageous. Who is the government to cut into corporations' profit margins? In a blatant show of what can only be described as anti-Americanism, you and your leftist cronies are putting a select few people's lives ahead of these corporations' ability to make money. Brilliant truth-tellers, men like Glen Beck, Bill O'Reilly, and Rush Limbaugh, won't be suppressed by the liberal media, though. They have opened the eyes of many of us conservatives. We see that this issue truly is about our fundamental rights within our capitalist system, which have long been the backbone of this country. And don't get me started on the government's mandating how individual citizens spend their money. In all due respect, Mr. President, you've got your facts and priorities all screwed up.
The shifting direction of our foreign policy has been no less radical. You want to reduce our nuclear arsenal. Haven't you read that Jesus didn't come to bring peace, but the sword? I'd encourage you to keep in mind Jerry Falwell's advice during the Reagan administration. He said that we need to be able to destroy other nations before they destroy us. Moreover, I'm appalled by the way we're surrendering our national sovereignty to the U.N. The purpose of that organization has long been to contain imperialistic, power-hungry nations that would use their military to intimidate or threaten other nations. Yes, the naive pacifists are right that the U.S. has 2.7 million military personnel scattered across 737 military bases in foreign countries, but their cynical appraisal only tells half the story. These people fail to acknowledge that our nation, which is a bastion of freedom and prosperity, isn't out for its own national interests. We wouldn't use our military might to intimidate the international community. We use our economic and military influence only when it's necessary for bringing positive change to the world, not to engage in unilateral war for our own economic advantage. And we most certainly wouldn't use covert actions to undermine hostile governments or nuclear weapons to destroy an enemy. We have our espionage and nuclear programs only for protection and deterrence, respectively. By submitting our nation to the U.N.'s will, you're reducing our ability to contain out-of-control rogue nations with imperialistic aspirations. Our altruistic nation doesn't need the U.N. playing Big Brother, telling us what is best for the world. I think we're wise enough to decide that on our own.
While I'm on the topic of bowing to the rest of the world, are you really willing to kill the U.S. economy by submitting to international standards on pollution? We were the last beacon of hope, the last major country not to buy into that worldwide hoax. I'm not irrational, but I am a pragmatist. Global warming is ridiculous, but smog is a real issue. Yet with our economy remaining on the brink of disaster, our chief national concern has got to be our economic stability, not the pacifying of a bunch of tree huggers. If people can't breathe, they should move somewhere else. There's plenty of land elsewhere in this country for asthmatics. In the meantime, I'd point out that corporations are getting a bad wrap. They care about not only making money, but also the future well-being of this country. They don't need any more regulation. I remain confident that they're doing all they can in a cost-effective manner to keep pollution to a minimum. Besides, didn't God tell us that we're supposed to have "dominion" over the earth? We're supposed to use it for our needs. That's what God intended it for.
As for illegal immigration, don't you know your American history? Our country has been plagued by wave after wave of illegal immigrants who have continually produced ethnic and religious tension. Additionally, simple supply and demand economics tells us that the presence of uneducated manual laborers drives down wages and steals employment from the native citizens. Now before some muckraking liberal tries to undermine these facts with gotcha journalism, I'll be open and honest about the skeletons in my closet: Yes, my ancestors were Prussian mercenaries for the British who came here during the Revolution. They didn't violate immigration laws, however, as there weren't any at the time. I say that if the Mexicans want to come to this country, they should at least have the decency to start by obeying the laws of the land. If they don't have the means to enter this country legally and begin the nationalization process, then they should stay in Mexico and work toward its betterment. I don't mean to sound crass, but illegal immigrants have long brought trouble to this country. As far as I'm concerned, we need to round them up and ship them out.
Regarding our budget, we all know it's spiraling out of control. This level of spending is unsustainable. Temporarily setting aside the fact I obviously disagree with you on issues like public housing, poverty relief, and health care, how can we possibly remain the sole global superpower and fund essential spending like education and infrastructure? At some point we're going to have to make tough decisions between retaining our military prowess and all this domestic spending. You should be ashamed of yourself for putting the well-being of subsequent generations at risk. It'll be a tragedy when we have to start closing down public schools because we just cannot afford them anymore.
Although this issue is near and dear to my heart, I'll keep my comments about Israel brief. I understand that you're critical of the Israeli military's techniques in suppressing Palestinian terrorism. There is no delicate, politically correct way to write this, but haven't you read the Bible? No wait, you're Muslim. I recant that question. The short version for you Mohammedans is that Palestinians aren't God's people! They're modern-day Canaanites. Holy Scripture demands that they be crushed if they deny the validity of the Israeli government's conquest of their homeland, resist the continual incursion of Israeli settlements into what little land they have left, or if they're ungrateful for the ghettos that the Israeli government has generously provided. Just as it's unfortunate that a nation like ours which was founded on biblical principles has had to do some uncomfortable things to win the War on Terror, so Israel has had to do whatever is necessary to preserve its existence. Elitist academic liberals claim that hostility and suppression only breed more hatred and conflict, but who is man to question these things? God's ways are not our ways. His thoughts are not our thoughts. His understanding infinitely surpasses our ability to understand. If God wants us to support Israel, then Palestinian human rights be damned! Our responsibility is to protect God's people at any cost. I genuinely believe that this is a big reason by God established our country and has continued to bless us through the years.
There's much else to be written about, but I'll limit myself to one one major concern: Supreme Court nominations. Anyone who has attended a good, conservative Bible college knows that good hermeneutics is key to the interpretation of any text. In this situation, the text is the United States Constitution. Proper hermeneutical methodology dictates that the text cannot say what it never said. That is, one cannot, or should not, read ever-changing contemporary contexts back into our interpretation of the document. Constitutional law must be built upon the original intentions of the Founding Fathers. For example, the Second Amendment states, "A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed." Clearly this means that automatic weapons and fingerprint resistant handguns should be legally available to all citizens. As far as I'm concerned, this liberal ideology that has supposedly turned the Constitution into a "living document" is yet another example of absurd, baseless evolution. Liberal agendas have produced some of the worst judicial tyranny in American history, including suffrage for minorities, women, and non-property owners. Now, please don't misunderstand me. I'm not racist, nor am I an unreasonable man. I affirm your people's rights. Brown v. Board of Education was a joke, but since the Founding Fathers intended that the three-fifths compromise expire over two centuries ago, I think it's fine for there to be a black president even if you shouldn't be able to vote. Anyway, though your law degree comes from Harvard, one of the country's most liberal institutions, since you taught Constitutional law at the University of Chicago Law School I remain hopeful that you'll see the wisdom in my belief that Supreme Court justices must stick strictly to authorial intent.
I hope you know that many of us are praying for you: Psalm 109:8-9.
Sincerely,
Carson T. Clark
-----------------------
It really impairs the comedic effect that I have to say this, but I have this sneaking suspicion that a lot of both my conservative and liberal readers will take this post to be a wholesale endorsement of liberalism in general and this new health care legislation specifically. Both sides will assume that because I'm critiquing the right I must be advocating the left. That's simply a false assumption. Keep in mind that the sub-title of this blog is "The assorted thoughts of a hard-lining moderate." For a more thorough explanation as to what my intentions actually are, check out my first comment when this has been imported into facebook.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
A Relationship with God?
"With everyone's head bowed and eyes closed, I invite you to trust in Jesus, ask Him into your heart, accept Him as your Lord and Savior, and begin a relationship with the loving God who died for you. Just slip up your hand if you feel the Spirit calling you." I have no idea how many times I've heard such invitations, but it's got to be close to a thousand. In some sense, I'm infinitely grateful that I heard it so many times. My stubborn nature led me to resist multiple invitations each week for years. In another sense, as I've grown in my faith I've become skeptical of this evangelistic axiom. I've begun to question the conception of Christianity within which it grounded me. Not the least of my questions has been this: Are we supposed to have "a relationship with God"? I acknowledge tackling provocative themes and using titles that will generate interest in my blog posts, but given the sensitive nature of this subject I will make every effort to exercise humility and grace in the way I explain my thoughts.
More than anything, I've wanted to have a relationship with God such as my pastor invited me to have a full decade ago. During a prayer retreat I went on several years ago, I remember the leader telling us to go some place in the cabin or in the woods and wait there until we heard from the Lord. That afternoon people trickled back to the cabin with amazing stories of things God has spoken or revealed to them--words of peace and comfort, areas of pride and rebellion, etc. Some said that quietly waiting upon the still small voice of the Lord had made them the most aware of Spirit's indwelling presence that they'd ever been. They spoke about how they felt that it was an experience that would forever alter their spiritual lives.
If I may be brutally honest, my experience that day was one of frustration and despair leading to sin. I sat there praying for hour after hour waiting for God. After about five hours I told God that I couldn't sense His presence or hear His voice, and I asked why. Still nothing. After another hour I wept almost hysterically. 'Why God? Why can't I know you're here? Why can't I hear your voice? What's wrong? Is there sin in my heart? I'm trying, but am I not listening enough? Please, please reveal yourself to me. I trust you. I love you. I just want to know you're there." Nothing. I went back to the cabin already frustrated that I'd failed. As I heard these amazing stories from my friends, I felt more than embarrassed. I felt humiliated. So I lied. I made up some great story about how God had touched my heart and remember quite vividly someone saying, "See? That's the power of God. As I said, all you have to do is wait on Him." The events that day set off a chain of events that would transform my spiritual life.
Three years later I was living in Georgia attending a small Bible college. In the years since that day in the woods, I'd doubted God's very existence, the truthfulness of Christianity, and much else. I remember being so frustrated one day after a class that I told my wife, "I don't know if I love God." As you might imagine, she was alarmed and perhaps a little angry, but to her infinite credit she listened to my heart and tried to understand why I was thinking what I was. I told her, "How can you love a God that you can't see, touch, hear, smell, or taste? What the hell does it look like to love a God that is wholly beyond our senses? I keep having people tell me that I just need to hear God's voice and sense His presence. Yeah, tried that, and it ain't happening!" In Donald Miller's Blue Like Jazz, he writes about a pastor who began to cry when someone simply asked him what Jesus meant to him. He absolutely lost it. Miller says that he wants to love God that much. Love God to the degree that the very mention of his savior's name brings him to tears. Most of the book resonated with me deeply, but this portion just plain infuriated me. I desperately wanted to have that sort of love for God, but it just wasn't happening.
That spring I was venting on this whole issue on an online discussion forum. One guy said he empathized with my struggle and recommend I read Philip Yancey's The Jesus I Never Knew. I'd never read Yancey, but thought I'd give it a shot. I'm infinitely glad that I did. Yancey hit upon the exact sorts of questions that I was asking. He dealt with them honestly, certainly with his heart but not to the exclusion of his head. This doesn't do it justice, but Yancey helped me to re-frame my whole conception of what Christianity is and what my expectations are of God. I came to see that my "love" of God is rather unlike Don Miller's pastor's love of God. Neither is right or wrong, just different. My love of God has far less to do with being intimately connected to Him on an emotional level and far more to do with devotion to a worthy Lord, cherishing what He did in saving me, being thankful for His care and provision, and being willing to sacrifice my wishes and desires to serve what I think is His will. That is, I had to redefine all my expectations for what it means for me to love God. Occasionally I experience a profound sense of emotional connection with Him, but that truly is the exception rather than the rule. I came to see that despite what the pious church culture around me said, my love of God is no less sincere because I'm not crying all the time. The transformation of my faith didn't end there, though. As I followed down this path, I began to realize that Yancey's book had opened up a whole other can of worms. Or, to mix my metaphors, it opened a can of sacred cows.
Where in the Bible does it say we're supposed to be in "a relationship with God"? I stewed on this one for a couple years before sharing it with anyone. I feared that voicing this question would harm those with simpler, but no less sincere, faith and/or incur the wrath of the fundamentalist polemicists. After all, this idea of having a relationship with God is perhaps one of the few things that unites Protestants, overcoming the division between even mainliners and fundamentalists. It even transcends the generational gap. Regardless of whether a person is a 83-year old modernist who loves Billy Graham or 18-year old postmodernist who loves Brian McLaren, everyone seems to agree that the purpose--even the essence--of Christianity is the restoration of our relationship with God. But, again, I would ask: Where is this in the Bible? The first and only person I've seen pose this question in print is Rob Bell, but he was only using it as an example of things that people believe without questioning.
A while back I shared this question with a guy who's been something of a mentor to me. As the first to hear it, I half expected him to question my salvation. I thought, 'This is going to be where he thinks I'm off my rocker.' After thinking about it for a moment, his response was startled. Comforting, but also startling. He said, "You know, I'd not heard anyone ask that until just last year. Since then you're probably the seventh guy to say that to me." He went on to explain that all the others were guys in their 40s and had been saved since their teens or early 20s. Despite their various church backgrounds, all had basically be taught the same conception of what Christianity is. They'd all responded to the same sort of invitation about entering into a relationship with God. And 20+ years in, they'd all come to the same point of disillusionment. All were sincere Christians and none were doubting their faith, but for each of them their spiritual lives were nothing like they'd been taught it'd be like. Their experiences didn't align with their expectations, and they were disappointed. He shared that it was an albatross around each of their necks. They felt like they weren't as close to God as they ought to be. But more than anything, they felt like they were letting their families down because they weren't being the men of God that they were called to be. Despite their efforts to seek God's face all the more, their struggles only worsened. Finally they decided to get together and meet about it one morning a week. After a year of those meetings, they'd collectively come to believe that a Christian's spiritual life is usually far different than what any of them had been told by evangelists, pastors, Bible college professors, radio preachers, and Christian Living books. They believed that a "relationship with God" is less about these existential, mystical experiences and more about faithfulness, devotion, reverence, and submission. On hearing this I felt peace for the first time in years.
Do you remember when Mother Theresa's journal was published a few years back? It was shocking. She was revered by Christians of all traditions all around the world for her selfless work among the poorest of the poor in Calcutta, India. Everyone seemed to have had this belief that what sustained her through all those years was this deep sense of God's presence and an intimate relationship with Him. Instead what her journal revealed was decades of wretched loneliness. She had no tangible sense of God's presence and had often found herself frustrated, feeling like she was praying to the wall. I can relate. I wonder how many other Christians secretly experience this frustration?
When I've shared these sorts of thoughts with people recently, I've gotten every response you can imagine: relief, intrigue, confusion, shock, annoyance, anger, and even threats. Seems it's a novel concept to most people. The most common response, however, has probably been a defense of the idea. "Of course a relationship with God is biblical!" said one guy. "It doesn't have to be said explicitly 'cuz it's implicit all throughout Scripture." He pointed to passages like Jesus' addressing God the Father as "abba father," or "daddy" to us. He talked about God strolled through the garden with Adam and Eve, how Jesus had built relationships with His disciples, how He said that He'd send the Holy Spirit to comfort them, and even the nature and purpose of the indwelling Spirit. None of which I'd argue with. But still, if restoring our "relationship" with God is the, or at least one of the, central theme(s) of Scripture, isn't it at least a little odd that the Bible never comes right out and says it? When I read the Bible, I don't see it leaving a lot of the big stuff left unsaid. Furthermore, if God is completely beyond our five senses, then wouldn't any "relationship" we might have with Him be completely unlike our relationship with any other person? And if that's the case, is it even a "relationship" at all? Does the term even apply?
I've often heard it said that this idea is the thing that separates genuine Christianity from cold, dead orthodoxy--"It's not first and foremost about a set of beliefs, but an intimate relationship with our Creator, Savior, and Lord." Asked what that means in practice, most people I've asked start talking about God's presence, hearing His still, small voice, being able to tell Him anything, having a sense of His will, and so on. With the exception of the being able to tell Him anything (I often pray about things that I've never even told my wife), that sounds quite unlike any relationship I've ever had. When I'm talking to someone, there's no difficulty in telling that he/she is present. When someone says something to me, unless they're in a library or have laryngitis, I have no trouble hearing his/her voice. When someone has a desire, I generally have no trouble grasping it. They just tell me what it is. I could go on, but the point is made.
I'm thankful for those deeply emotional and profoundly spiritual experiences when they happen, but I often wonder if we haven't bought too much into this individualistic, "Jesus is my homeboy" American Christianity and lost the sense that it's primary supposed to be more about faithfulness, devotion, reverence, and submission, not existential experiences. Sometimes I think we've uncritically/unknowingly embraced the incarnation, thinking of Jesus as primarily a man, without remembering that God almighty condescended Himself in order to become one of us. Forgetting the power, glory, and even awesome fear shown toward God in the Old Testament.
At this point anyway, I wouldn't come right out and say, "We're not supposed to have a relationship with God. That's not what it's about." But I am willing to say that the term "relationship" is exceptionally inadequate. I'm coming to the belief that the relation between God and His people is quite unlike anything I've ever been taught in church. It's supposed to be much less buddy-buddy and much more submission to the will of our King, though both extremes obviously fall short of biblical teaching. God knows, loves, cares for, and wants to hear from each of us, but I think in setting ourselves up as co-equals we've terribly skewed our principle place as the jewel of God's creation, not gods ourselves. I keep trying to come up with an analogy that preserves our sense of God's power and nature as wholly other to which we ought to submit while also maintaining the intimacy that God wants with His people as shown in Eden. Nothing is coming to mind. Maybe the best way to look at is this:
He's the God of both the Old and New Testaments. Don't forget it.
More than anything, I've wanted to have a relationship with God such as my pastor invited me to have a full decade ago. During a prayer retreat I went on several years ago, I remember the leader telling us to go some place in the cabin or in the woods and wait there until we heard from the Lord. That afternoon people trickled back to the cabin with amazing stories of things God has spoken or revealed to them--words of peace and comfort, areas of pride and rebellion, etc. Some said that quietly waiting upon the still small voice of the Lord had made them the most aware of Spirit's indwelling presence that they'd ever been. They spoke about how they felt that it was an experience that would forever alter their spiritual lives.
If I may be brutally honest, my experience that day was one of frustration and despair leading to sin. I sat there praying for hour after hour waiting for God. After about five hours I told God that I couldn't sense His presence or hear His voice, and I asked why. Still nothing. After another hour I wept almost hysterically. 'Why God? Why can't I know you're here? Why can't I hear your voice? What's wrong? Is there sin in my heart? I'm trying, but am I not listening enough? Please, please reveal yourself to me. I trust you. I love you. I just want to know you're there." Nothing. I went back to the cabin already frustrated that I'd failed. As I heard these amazing stories from my friends, I felt more than embarrassed. I felt humiliated. So I lied. I made up some great story about how God had touched my heart and remember quite vividly someone saying, "See? That's the power of God. As I said, all you have to do is wait on Him." The events that day set off a chain of events that would transform my spiritual life.
Three years later I was living in Georgia attending a small Bible college. In the years since that day in the woods, I'd doubted God's very existence, the truthfulness of Christianity, and much else. I remember being so frustrated one day after a class that I told my wife, "I don't know if I love God." As you might imagine, she was alarmed and perhaps a little angry, but to her infinite credit she listened to my heart and tried to understand why I was thinking what I was. I told her, "How can you love a God that you can't see, touch, hear, smell, or taste? What the hell does it look like to love a God that is wholly beyond our senses? I keep having people tell me that I just need to hear God's voice and sense His presence. Yeah, tried that, and it ain't happening!" In Donald Miller's Blue Like Jazz, he writes about a pastor who began to cry when someone simply asked him what Jesus meant to him. He absolutely lost it. Miller says that he wants to love God that much. Love God to the degree that the very mention of his savior's name brings him to tears. Most of the book resonated with me deeply, but this portion just plain infuriated me. I desperately wanted to have that sort of love for God, but it just wasn't happening.
That spring I was venting on this whole issue on an online discussion forum. One guy said he empathized with my struggle and recommend I read Philip Yancey's The Jesus I Never Knew. I'd never read Yancey, but thought I'd give it a shot. I'm infinitely glad that I did. Yancey hit upon the exact sorts of questions that I was asking. He dealt with them honestly, certainly with his heart but not to the exclusion of his head. This doesn't do it justice, but Yancey helped me to re-frame my whole conception of what Christianity is and what my expectations are of God. I came to see that my "love" of God is rather unlike Don Miller's pastor's love of God. Neither is right or wrong, just different. My love of God has far less to do with being intimately connected to Him on an emotional level and far more to do with devotion to a worthy Lord, cherishing what He did in saving me, being thankful for His care and provision, and being willing to sacrifice my wishes and desires to serve what I think is His will. That is, I had to redefine all my expectations for what it means for me to love God. Occasionally I experience a profound sense of emotional connection with Him, but that truly is the exception rather than the rule. I came to see that despite what the pious church culture around me said, my love of God is no less sincere because I'm not crying all the time. The transformation of my faith didn't end there, though. As I followed down this path, I began to realize that Yancey's book had opened up a whole other can of worms. Or, to mix my metaphors, it opened a can of sacred cows.
Where in the Bible does it say we're supposed to be in "a relationship with God"? I stewed on this one for a couple years before sharing it with anyone. I feared that voicing this question would harm those with simpler, but no less sincere, faith and/or incur the wrath of the fundamentalist polemicists. After all, this idea of having a relationship with God is perhaps one of the few things that unites Protestants, overcoming the division between even mainliners and fundamentalists. It even transcends the generational gap. Regardless of whether a person is a 83-year old modernist who loves Billy Graham or 18-year old postmodernist who loves Brian McLaren, everyone seems to agree that the purpose--even the essence--of Christianity is the restoration of our relationship with God. But, again, I would ask: Where is this in the Bible? The first and only person I've seen pose this question in print is Rob Bell, but he was only using it as an example of things that people believe without questioning.
A while back I shared this question with a guy who's been something of a mentor to me. As the first to hear it, I half expected him to question my salvation. I thought, 'This is going to be where he thinks I'm off my rocker.' After thinking about it for a moment, his response was startled. Comforting, but also startling. He said, "You know, I'd not heard anyone ask that until just last year. Since then you're probably the seventh guy to say that to me." He went on to explain that all the others were guys in their 40s and had been saved since their teens or early 20s. Despite their various church backgrounds, all had basically be taught the same conception of what Christianity is. They'd all responded to the same sort of invitation about entering into a relationship with God. And 20+ years in, they'd all come to the same point of disillusionment. All were sincere Christians and none were doubting their faith, but for each of them their spiritual lives were nothing like they'd been taught it'd be like. Their experiences didn't align with their expectations, and they were disappointed. He shared that it was an albatross around each of their necks. They felt like they weren't as close to God as they ought to be. But more than anything, they felt like they were letting their families down because they weren't being the men of God that they were called to be. Despite their efforts to seek God's face all the more, their struggles only worsened. Finally they decided to get together and meet about it one morning a week. After a year of those meetings, they'd collectively come to believe that a Christian's spiritual life is usually far different than what any of them had been told by evangelists, pastors, Bible college professors, radio preachers, and Christian Living books. They believed that a "relationship with God" is less about these existential, mystical experiences and more about faithfulness, devotion, reverence, and submission. On hearing this I felt peace for the first time in years.
Do you remember when Mother Theresa's journal was published a few years back? It was shocking. She was revered by Christians of all traditions all around the world for her selfless work among the poorest of the poor in Calcutta, India. Everyone seemed to have had this belief that what sustained her through all those years was this deep sense of God's presence and an intimate relationship with Him. Instead what her journal revealed was decades of wretched loneliness. She had no tangible sense of God's presence and had often found herself frustrated, feeling like she was praying to the wall. I can relate. I wonder how many other Christians secretly experience this frustration?
When I've shared these sorts of thoughts with people recently, I've gotten every response you can imagine: relief, intrigue, confusion, shock, annoyance, anger, and even threats. Seems it's a novel concept to most people. The most common response, however, has probably been a defense of the idea. "Of course a relationship with God is biblical!" said one guy. "It doesn't have to be said explicitly 'cuz it's implicit all throughout Scripture." He pointed to passages like Jesus' addressing God the Father as "abba father," or "daddy" to us. He talked about God strolled through the garden with Adam and Eve, how Jesus had built relationships with His disciples, how He said that He'd send the Holy Spirit to comfort them, and even the nature and purpose of the indwelling Spirit. None of which I'd argue with. But still, if restoring our "relationship" with God is the, or at least one of the, central theme(s) of Scripture, isn't it at least a little odd that the Bible never comes right out and says it? When I read the Bible, I don't see it leaving a lot of the big stuff left unsaid. Furthermore, if God is completely beyond our five senses, then wouldn't any "relationship" we might have with Him be completely unlike our relationship with any other person? And if that's the case, is it even a "relationship" at all? Does the term even apply?
I've often heard it said that this idea is the thing that separates genuine Christianity from cold, dead orthodoxy--"It's not first and foremost about a set of beliefs, but an intimate relationship with our Creator, Savior, and Lord." Asked what that means in practice, most people I've asked start talking about God's presence, hearing His still, small voice, being able to tell Him anything, having a sense of His will, and so on. With the exception of the being able to tell Him anything (I often pray about things that I've never even told my wife), that sounds quite unlike any relationship I've ever had. When I'm talking to someone, there's no difficulty in telling that he/she is present. When someone says something to me, unless they're in a library or have laryngitis, I have no trouble hearing his/her voice. When someone has a desire, I generally have no trouble grasping it. They just tell me what it is. I could go on, but the point is made.
I'm thankful for those deeply emotional and profoundly spiritual experiences when they happen, but I often wonder if we haven't bought too much into this individualistic, "Jesus is my homeboy" American Christianity and lost the sense that it's primary supposed to be more about faithfulness, devotion, reverence, and submission, not existential experiences. Sometimes I think we've uncritically/unknowingly embraced the incarnation, thinking of Jesus as primarily a man, without remembering that God almighty condescended Himself in order to become one of us. Forgetting the power, glory, and even awesome fear shown toward God in the Old Testament.
At this point anyway, I wouldn't come right out and say, "We're not supposed to have a relationship with God. That's not what it's about." But I am willing to say that the term "relationship" is exceptionally inadequate. I'm coming to the belief that the relation between God and His people is quite unlike anything I've ever been taught in church. It's supposed to be much less buddy-buddy and much more submission to the will of our King, though both extremes obviously fall short of biblical teaching. God knows, loves, cares for, and wants to hear from each of us, but I think in setting ourselves up as co-equals we've terribly skewed our principle place as the jewel of God's creation, not gods ourselves. I keep trying to come up with an analogy that preserves our sense of God's power and nature as wholly other to which we ought to submit while also maintaining the intimacy that God wants with His people as shown in Eden. Nothing is coming to mind. Maybe the best way to look at is this:
He's the God of both the Old and New Testaments. Don't forget it.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
A Proposal for the Regulation of Status Updates
These are actual facebook status updates I've seen in the last week:
"As there has always been with technological advances, there are particular groups within the larger demographic who uncritically embrace the development while also those who resist. The former celebrates innovation and freedom, believing that it will make their life easier and more fulfilling. The latter lament the supposed cultural corruption wrought by change, apprehensive if not fearful of a changing way of life...
As both a blogger and a student of anthropology, much of my life is spent on the internet. It occurs to me that if there were not immense cultural value such technology wouldn't have become so widespread as quickly as it has... I wouldn't suggest that social networking sites are destroying community, for one cannot help but observe the creation of an interactive, global community. A community that would not otherwise have been possible... [O]ur conceptions of community are being adapted. Yet as a young person coming of age in this new community, I can't help but note the growing sense of individualism and loneliness.
When I read the Facebook status updates and Tweets of my online community all too regularly I see isolated people with a dearth of insightful things to say. The sheer fact that they're informing the world of their recent brushing and flossing doesn't speak well for their cognitive activity or their interpersonal engagement...
My mom taught me that if I don't have anything good to say, don't say anything at all. Participants in social networking sites are very much in the process of developing a social networking etiquette, but, to offer a sort of 21st century update to my mom's axiom, I hope we arrive at principally held beliefs that insist that people not post anything if they don't have anything meaningful to say. Subjectively, I'm disheartened that our trajectory appears quite the opposite."
Most likely this person isn't a Christian, so rather than a hearty "Amen!" I would offer the colloquial British praise, "Brilliant!" I agree that there needs to be some etiquette developed on this stuff, so I would offer a simple proposal toward that end:
Users of social networking sites such as facebook and twitter should be intentional about publicly sharing only those thoughts that are meaningful, insightful, gripping, provocative, jarring, encouraging, challenging, humorous, emotionally cathartic, genuinely informative, honest inquiry, requesting assistance, or advertising. (I'm open to other possibilities that I've neglected to mention.) Kind of like those socially inept people who were taunted into developing interpersonal skills during middle and high school, so those who persist in behavior contrary to the proposed guidelines should be chastised mercilessly until they conform with comments such as "Nobody cares", "If you don't have anything interesting to post, don't post anything at all", and "Is your life really that boring that you think others would care about... ?" As with all communities, those things that are socially appropriate to discuss/post about will be determined by the community. For example, while bizarre to others, it's okay for Bible college students to crack jokes about Penal Substitution with each other. I'm perfectly happy to read good posts from my friends, but these prosaic posts about one's soup needing to cool have got to stop.
C'mon, folks. It's time we demand status accountability. Who's with me?
P.S. Kudos to Reid Burke for his consistently awesome status updates. Amidst a sea of brutally mundane posts, his have remained a beacon of light and a source of hope for what such status updates/tweets can be.
- "yep"
- "just got back from the grocery store."
- "dam hangnail"
- "Big day tomorrow! Need to catch some ZZZs"
- "Thought about cleaning up the garage, but then I didn't."
- "Should I go get gas?"
- "Heard a song on the radio but dont know its name. Kinda wish I did butI'll get ovver it."
- "status updated"
- "Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm"
- "Need 2 stop procrastinating on fb"
- "I got a taillight that went out. Nope, didn't get pulled over for it. Just thought I'd share :)"
"As there has always been with technological advances, there are particular groups within the larger demographic who uncritically embrace the development while also those who resist. The former celebrates innovation and freedom, believing that it will make their life easier and more fulfilling. The latter lament the supposed cultural corruption wrought by change, apprehensive if not fearful of a changing way of life...
As both a blogger and a student of anthropology, much of my life is spent on the internet. It occurs to me that if there were not immense cultural value such technology wouldn't have become so widespread as quickly as it has... I wouldn't suggest that social networking sites are destroying community, for one cannot help but observe the creation of an interactive, global community. A community that would not otherwise have been possible... [O]ur conceptions of community are being adapted. Yet as a young person coming of age in this new community, I can't help but note the growing sense of individualism and loneliness.
When I read the Facebook status updates and Tweets of my online community all too regularly I see isolated people with a dearth of insightful things to say. The sheer fact that they're informing the world of their recent brushing and flossing doesn't speak well for their cognitive activity or their interpersonal engagement...
My mom taught me that if I don't have anything good to say, don't say anything at all. Participants in social networking sites are very much in the process of developing a social networking etiquette, but, to offer a sort of 21st century update to my mom's axiom, I hope we arrive at principally held beliefs that insist that people not post anything if they don't have anything meaningful to say. Subjectively, I'm disheartened that our trajectory appears quite the opposite."
Most likely this person isn't a Christian, so rather than a hearty "Amen!" I would offer the colloquial British praise, "Brilliant!" I agree that there needs to be some etiquette developed on this stuff, so I would offer a simple proposal toward that end:
Users of social networking sites such as facebook and twitter should be intentional about publicly sharing only those thoughts that are meaningful, insightful, gripping, provocative, jarring, encouraging, challenging, humorous, emotionally cathartic, genuinely informative, honest inquiry, requesting assistance, or advertising. (I'm open to other possibilities that I've neglected to mention.) Kind of like those socially inept people who were taunted into developing interpersonal skills during middle and high school, so those who persist in behavior contrary to the proposed guidelines should be chastised mercilessly until they conform with comments such as "Nobody cares", "If you don't have anything interesting to post, don't post anything at all", and "Is your life really that boring that you think others would care about... ?" As with all communities, those things that are socially appropriate to discuss/post about will be determined by the community. For example, while bizarre to others, it's okay for Bible college students to crack jokes about Penal Substitution with each other. I'm perfectly happy to read good posts from my friends, but these prosaic posts about one's soup needing to cool have got to stop.
C'mon, folks. It's time we demand status accountability. Who's with me?
P.S. Kudos to Reid Burke for his consistently awesome status updates. Amidst a sea of brutally mundane posts, his have remained a beacon of light and a source of hope for what such status updates/tweets can be.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
The Inverse Ratio Chiropractor Theory
Yesterday I experienced the worst pain in my life. I had a pinched nerve in the upper-middle part of my back. I've got a generally high tolerance for pain, but this had me writhing on the floor. I couldn't move my left arm, my right leg was about an inch longer than my left, and from what I hear there was a bulge and a spasming muscle visible through two layers of clothes. Simply excruciating. The cause? Application of deodorant to my left armpit. It'll get ya every time...
My wife desperately drove me to one chiropractor after another, trying to find someone who could do an emergency adjustment. Everyone was out for lunch and wouldn't be back in for another hour and a half or so. We ended up finding a friend who's popped my back in the past. He massaged the area and was able to pop it enough to make it bearable. Then he recommended his chiropractor. He told me, "He's one of the rougher types, so a lot of people don't like him." I, on the other hand, love a chiropractor who will use borderline excessive force, so we were on our way. My friend threw out a caveat, though. "You should know that he's nuts." Without getting into all the details, let's just say my visit fit the bill.
I got to thinking, Why are all chiropractors nuts? Having been to at least 10 chiropractors over the years, I can attest that I've never encountered any demographic quite like them. To various levels and degrees, they're anti-vaccination, anti-FDA, anti-medical establishment, anti-government, pro-NRA, pro-SUV, and pro-organic food. Many seem to think that spinal misalignment is the cause of all illness. A few participate in deliverance ministries. And most are staunch believers that the End Times are nearly upon us, and almost by definition also have conspiracy theories about the creation of the New World Order. Most of the guys I've seen actually are Christians, but that doesn't seem to deter the behavior I'm referring to. On the contrary, it seems to augment it. Quite strangely, it seems that the more whacko their beliefs the greater their skill as a chiropractor, which led to a new pet theory: the Inverse Ratio Chiropractor Theory. Basically, the odder their beliefs the greater the likelihood of their chiropractic skill. Putting the theory into practice, a good rule of thumb if you're new to a community and are looking for an excellent chiropractor is to visit their office prior to the appointment and look for literature strongly advocating any of the peculiar inclinations listed above. If you see politically incorrect political cartoons posted on the walls, magazines premised on declaring the greed of the villainous medical profession, a looped video talking about the necessity of ongoing chiropractic care for, say, menstrual cramps, or pamphlets on obscure political parties at the receptionist's desk, make an appointment! You know you're in good hands.
My wife desperately drove me to one chiropractor after another, trying to find someone who could do an emergency adjustment. Everyone was out for lunch and wouldn't be back in for another hour and a half or so. We ended up finding a friend who's popped my back in the past. He massaged the area and was able to pop it enough to make it bearable. Then he recommended his chiropractor. He told me, "He's one of the rougher types, so a lot of people don't like him." I, on the other hand, love a chiropractor who will use borderline excessive force, so we were on our way. My friend threw out a caveat, though. "You should know that he's nuts." Without getting into all the details, let's just say my visit fit the bill.
I got to thinking, Why are all chiropractors nuts? Having been to at least 10 chiropractors over the years, I can attest that I've never encountered any demographic quite like them. To various levels and degrees, they're anti-vaccination, anti-FDA, anti-medical establishment, anti-government, pro-NRA, pro-SUV, and pro-organic food. Many seem to think that spinal misalignment is the cause of all illness. A few participate in deliverance ministries. And most are staunch believers that the End Times are nearly upon us, and almost by definition also have conspiracy theories about the creation of the New World Order. Most of the guys I've seen actually are Christians, but that doesn't seem to deter the behavior I'm referring to. On the contrary, it seems to augment it. Quite strangely, it seems that the more whacko their beliefs the greater their skill as a chiropractor, which led to a new pet theory: the Inverse Ratio Chiropractor Theory. Basically, the odder their beliefs the greater the likelihood of their chiropractic skill. Putting the theory into practice, a good rule of thumb if you're new to a community and are looking for an excellent chiropractor is to visit their office prior to the appointment and look for literature strongly advocating any of the peculiar inclinations listed above. If you see politically incorrect political cartoons posted on the walls, magazines premised on declaring the greed of the villainous medical profession, a looped video talking about the necessity of ongoing chiropractic care for, say, menstrual cramps, or pamphlets on obscure political parties at the receptionist's desk, make an appointment! You know you're in good hands.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
On the Absurdity of "Reformed Theology" and "Calvinism" (Please note the quotation marks)
For those of you who are anticipating a theological treatise and are eagerly looking forward to rounds of doctrinal sparring, you will be disappointed. My comments here have little to do with the validity of the actual theological constructions and everything to do with the historically inaccurate nomenclature.
I find both the terms "Reformed Theology" and "Calvinism" to be absurd. I would offer three reasons for the former and one for the latter. First, so-called Reformed Theology is, in fact, merely one strand of the Reformational cord. The theological constructs of Geneva cannot be be said to represent those of Lutherans, Anabaptists, or Anglicans. Calling it Reformed Theology is a bit like using the word "apple" to describe all fruit. Second, while the terms literally means to be re-formed, this theology was actually quite novel in terms of Church history. What little precedent there was came from Augustine's theology, but eastern churches have always rejected most of his beliefs on adiaphora and western churches could at the most be described as semi-Augustinian; they sided with him enough to refute Pelagius, but they never wholly embraced Augustine's theology during his lifetime or afterward. Third, the term "reformed" contains this idea of perfection or completion, yet the Reformers themselves held to the principle of reformata et semper reformanda--reformed and always reforming. It's the tension between being and becoming, not merely being. Thus, I find the term "Reformed Theology" to be remarkably pretentious. As for "Calvinism," if the popular five-point theological system is be an "ism" of any kind it should be called "Bezaism." Theodore Beza, Calvin's successor in Geneva, attempted to codify Calvin's beliefs but the resulting theological construct differs remarkably from what Calvin actually taught in the Institutes of the Christian Religion. Yet most Calvinists don't know this. I doubt these terms will be changed after centuries of usage, but hopefully this post will help a few of the system's opponents and proponents alike to have a more historically accurate conception of it.
Gotta tell ya, it feels good to get that out of my system. It's been annoying me for years.
I find both the terms "Reformed Theology" and "Calvinism" to be absurd. I would offer three reasons for the former and one for the latter. First, so-called Reformed Theology is, in fact, merely one strand of the Reformational cord. The theological constructs of Geneva cannot be be said to represent those of Lutherans, Anabaptists, or Anglicans. Calling it Reformed Theology is a bit like using the word "apple" to describe all fruit. Second, while the terms literally means to be re-formed, this theology was actually quite novel in terms of Church history. What little precedent there was came from Augustine's theology, but eastern churches have always rejected most of his beliefs on adiaphora and western churches could at the most be described as semi-Augustinian; they sided with him enough to refute Pelagius, but they never wholly embraced Augustine's theology during his lifetime or afterward. Third, the term "reformed" contains this idea of perfection or completion, yet the Reformers themselves held to the principle of reformata et semper reformanda--reformed and always reforming. It's the tension between being and becoming, not merely being. Thus, I find the term "Reformed Theology" to be remarkably pretentious. As for "Calvinism," if the popular five-point theological system is be an "ism" of any kind it should be called "Bezaism." Theodore Beza, Calvin's successor in Geneva, attempted to codify Calvin's beliefs but the resulting theological construct differs remarkably from what Calvin actually taught in the Institutes of the Christian Religion. Yet most Calvinists don't know this. I doubt these terms will be changed after centuries of usage, but hopefully this post will help a few of the system's opponents and proponents alike to have a more historically accurate conception of it.
Gotta tell ya, it feels good to get that out of my system. It's been annoying me for years.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Inspired but non-canonical... Say what now?
Ever have one of those eureka moments where you get real excited, only to burst your own bubble a few seconds later by thinking, 'Seriously, it took me that long to think of that? Idiot'? This happens to me far too often. My most recent eureka-idiot moment pertains to the biblical canon.
How many times have I been taught the same old lesson about the canon? I distinctively remember that the first time was during an 8th grade Sunday School class. After that there have been Bible studies, sermons, lectures... I even wrote an entire paper on it. With a few nuances here and there, it was basically the same old criteria every time. For a book to make the canon, it had to meet four criteria:
Ummmm, what about inspiration?
As I've studied Church history and theology, I've come to realize that Protestantism's belief system is a bit like an onion. Having grown up and been educated within conservative Protestantism, I was taught specific beliefs that were said to have come directly from God through the Bible. Those beliefs were themselves premised upon the belief that the Bible is the inerrant Word of God. Beneath inerrancy was Protestantism's belief in Sola Scriptura, or the belief that Scripture alone is the sole, absolute authority for matters of Christians' beliefs and practices. Beneath that was an affirmation of the biblical canon. And at the core was the belief that all 66 books of the canon are the divinely-inspired Word of God. Thus, divine-inspiration was the linchpin that held Christianity together.
You see, then, why I'm baffled that I hadn't thought about inspiration. Wouldn't this have been the essential issue for being embraced as the Word of God? With this question racing around in my head, I hopped on my laptop and started googling. I anticipated finding that inspiration was, in fact, an essential criterion and I'd just repeatedly spaced out when pastors and professors were teaching about it. Three hours later, no such luck. What I did find was an intriguing theory by the late theologian Bruce Metzger that some books, such as The Shepherd of Hermes, may be divinely-inspired but non-canonical. Intriguing.
In case you have no idea what I'm talking about, The Shepherd of Hermes is a literary work written by an unknown author in the early second century. (Tradition says it was written by the brother of Pope Pius I.) It was originally written in Greek, but was soon after translated into Latin. Frankly, it's a little weird. It contains visions, commandments, and parables. It's also useful in that it demonstrates Christianity's continued development through its insights into christian ethics and church polity. Interesting read if nothing else. (If you've not read it, I recommend you it. Click here to do so.)
OK, so what's the basis for Metzger's theory?
First off, keep in mind that the current biblical canon (including the Apocrypha, those books that cause Protestants to have anxiety attacks) wasn't approved until until the Synod of Hippo in 393 CE. (Note: Previous synods had approved differing lists.) Even if one dates John's Revelation to the mid-90s CE, there's still about three centuries between the last composition and the New Testament's canonization. I don't mean to be Capt. Obvious, but a lot happened in that 300 year span.
During the second and third centuries, numerous, well-respected Apostolic Fathers such as Irenaeus, Tertullian, Clement of Alexandria, Cyprian of Carthage, Hippolytus, and Origen all considered The Shepherd of Hermes to be divinely-inspired Scripture. (Note: That list includes the guy who came up with the idea of orthodoxy and the one who coined the term Trinity. Not bad as far as credentials go.) As time went on, however, it began to be sifted out and was eventually determined to be non-canonical. In the early to mid-fourth century, Eusebius was writing about the canon and classified books as universally accepted, disputed, and spurious. The Shepherd fit the third category, but it continued to be popular among Christians, readily quoted by church leaders like Athanasius, and pretty much widely agreed to be edifying. By the time of Jerome it had lost popularity, and by the Augustine was around it was almost wholly ignored.
What Metzger tried to do was reconcile the differing views among the Church fathers: the early fathers considering The Shepherd inspired but later fathers declaring it non-canonical, but need these views be in conflict? Essentially, he was questioning the presupposition that inspired = canonical; that is, reassessing the conceptions of both inspiration and canonization. The basic idea is that the Holy Spirit inspired its writing, but then did not lead the did not lead the Church to include it within the biblical canon. While not a perfect analogy, his view is kind of like the idea of deuterocanonical books among Catholics and Orthodox.
Pardon me for a moment while I take an aside and point out a rather unsettling time line. Track with me on this one:
Frankly, I don't know what to believe. What I can definitively say is that I find it more than a little odd that an essential criterion for canonization wasn't agreement over a book's inspiration. Seriously, that's surprising. Also, as I've looked into figures such as Eusebius and Athanasius it seems that they weren't arguing that The Shepherd of Hermes wasn't inspired but that it was non-canonical. I find myself sympathetic to Metzger's position. Perhaps we should consider the possibility that inspiration and canonization aren't necessarily terms in which one is always accompanied by the other. I know that poses a direct challenge to conservative Protestant sensibilities, but maybe that's a good thing.
How many times have I been taught the same old lesson about the canon? I distinctively remember that the first time was during an 8th grade Sunday School class. After that there have been Bible studies, sermons, lectures... I even wrote an entire paper on it. With a few nuances here and there, it was basically the same old criteria every time. For a book to make the canon, it had to meet four criteria:
- Apostolic origin: Written by, attributed to, or based upon the teachings of one of the twelve apostles or by a close associate.
- Universal acceptance: Embraced as scripture by all major christian communities in the Mediterranean world at the end of the fourth century.
- Liturgical use: Read publicly along with the OT on Sunday mornings.
- Consistent message: No crazy crap teachings that conflict with other accepted christian writings.
Ummmm, what about inspiration?
As I've studied Church history and theology, I've come to realize that Protestantism's belief system is a bit like an onion. Having grown up and been educated within conservative Protestantism, I was taught specific beliefs that were said to have come directly from God through the Bible. Those beliefs were themselves premised upon the belief that the Bible is the inerrant Word of God. Beneath inerrancy was Protestantism's belief in Sola Scriptura, or the belief that Scripture alone is the sole, absolute authority for matters of Christians' beliefs and practices. Beneath that was an affirmation of the biblical canon. And at the core was the belief that all 66 books of the canon are the divinely-inspired Word of God. Thus, divine-inspiration was the linchpin that held Christianity together.
You see, then, why I'm baffled that I hadn't thought about inspiration. Wouldn't this have been the essential issue for being embraced as the Word of God? With this question racing around in my head, I hopped on my laptop and started googling. I anticipated finding that inspiration was, in fact, an essential criterion and I'd just repeatedly spaced out when pastors and professors were teaching about it. Three hours later, no such luck. What I did find was an intriguing theory by the late theologian Bruce Metzger that some books, such as The Shepherd of Hermes, may be divinely-inspired but non-canonical. Intriguing.
In case you have no idea what I'm talking about, The Shepherd of Hermes is a literary work written by an unknown author in the early second century. (Tradition says it was written by the brother of Pope Pius I.) It was originally written in Greek, but was soon after translated into Latin. Frankly, it's a little weird. It contains visions, commandments, and parables. It's also useful in that it demonstrates Christianity's continued development through its insights into christian ethics and church polity. Interesting read if nothing else. (If you've not read it, I recommend you it. Click here to do so.)
OK, so what's the basis for Metzger's theory?
First off, keep in mind that the current biblical canon (including the Apocrypha, those books that cause Protestants to have anxiety attacks) wasn't approved until until the Synod of Hippo in 393 CE. (Note: Previous synods had approved differing lists.) Even if one dates John's Revelation to the mid-90s CE, there's still about three centuries between the last composition and the New Testament's canonization. I don't mean to be Capt. Obvious, but a lot happened in that 300 year span.
During the second and third centuries, numerous, well-respected Apostolic Fathers such as Irenaeus, Tertullian, Clement of Alexandria, Cyprian of Carthage, Hippolytus, and Origen all considered The Shepherd of Hermes to be divinely-inspired Scripture. (Note: That list includes the guy who came up with the idea of orthodoxy and the one who coined the term Trinity. Not bad as far as credentials go.) As time went on, however, it began to be sifted out and was eventually determined to be non-canonical. In the early to mid-fourth century, Eusebius was writing about the canon and classified books as universally accepted, disputed, and spurious. The Shepherd fit the third category, but it continued to be popular among Christians, readily quoted by church leaders like Athanasius, and pretty much widely agreed to be edifying. By the time of Jerome it had lost popularity, and by the Augustine was around it was almost wholly ignored.
What Metzger tried to do was reconcile the differing views among the Church fathers: the early fathers considering The Shepherd inspired but later fathers declaring it non-canonical, but need these views be in conflict? Essentially, he was questioning the presupposition that inspired = canonical; that is, reassessing the conceptions of both inspiration and canonization. The basic idea is that the Holy Spirit inspired its writing, but then did not lead the did not lead the Church to include it within the biblical canon. While not a perfect analogy, his view is kind of like the idea of deuterocanonical books among Catholics and Orthodox.
Pardon me for a moment while I take an aside and point out a rather unsettling time line. Track with me on this one:
- Jesus trains 12 disciples to lay the Church's foundation after he departs, promising that the Holy Spirit will help them after he leaves.
- The Holy Spirit inspires Jesus' disciples and their own disciples to write documents, most of which were probably actually dictated.
- For three centuries the Spirit guides the Church as it depends upon the OT and apostolic tradition for its theological authority as they wrestle with which books ought to be in the canon.
- A couple synods get it wrong along the way, but the canon is finally agreed upon nearly 300 years after the fact.
- Then and only then do Christians read back in that, yes, all these books were in fact inspired all along, quite often citing 2 Timothy 3:16 even though that passage was written about the OT books.
- Well over a millennium later, the Protestant Reformers reject the authority of apostolic tradition, which was the Church's first source of authority while the kinks in the canon were being ironed out, insisting instead that Scripture alone is authoritative.
- 500 years later Protestants (in spirit if not all in name) are still embracing the sole, authoritative role of Scripture in lieu of apostolic tradition, yet the severe fragmentation and continual theological disputes begs the question of whether Scripture alone truly is, or ever can be, the Church's sole authority.
Frankly, I don't know what to believe. What I can definitively say is that I find it more than a little odd that an essential criterion for canonization wasn't agreement over a book's inspiration. Seriously, that's surprising. Also, as I've looked into figures such as Eusebius and Athanasius it seems that they weren't arguing that The Shepherd of Hermes wasn't inspired but that it was non-canonical. I find myself sympathetic to Metzger's position. Perhaps we should consider the possibility that inspiration and canonization aren't necessarily terms in which one is always accompanied by the other. I know that poses a direct challenge to conservative Protestant sensibilities, but maybe that's a good thing.
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