A Faith Statement

 Recently I was asked whether I believe in an afterlife. The apparent reason is that my preaching and writing focus pretty much on living a Christ-like life here and now. Still, the question is valid, and I will address it.

I will restrict my comments to what I find in Scripture, setting aside what others may have “found” (sic) in Scripture. In particular, I will set aside the eschatological model created by John Nelson Darby (an attorney; not a biblical scholar) in the mid-nineteenth century, and the spinoffs from his model. The spinoff versions[1] vary greatly; nevertheless, they all are dependent on Darby’s work and together constitute the default eschatology accepted, albeit uncritically (in many cases I would even say assumed), by the overwhelming majority of Christians today.

I find no evidence that Darby’s model, nor any part of it, was articulated prior to his creation of it less than two centuries ago. Nor do I find any earlier eschatology that takes unrelated texts from as varied sources as Ezekiel, Daniel, Matthew 24, Luke 17, I Thessalonians 4, et. al., and dumps them randomly into Revelation like a boy rolling his marbles across a hardwood floor. Revelation is complete and can stand on its own as is. It needs no help from Ezekiel or Paul or the rest.

That being said, there can be little doubt that the New Testament projects some manifestation of a transcendent, eternal existence characterized as utopian perfection (an anthropomorphic assumption) lived in the full, conscious awareness of God’s presence.

Two factors pretty much form the basis of my understanding of that existence as presented in Christian Scripture. First, the language is from Jewish messianic hopes that emerged in the post-exilic era (5^th and 6^th centuries BCE). Those hopes had a distinctive military and political quality of empire, with an ultimate hope for a world dominant kingdom. That didn’t happen under Jesus.

Christians do see Jesus as the fulfillment of Jewish messianic hopes, but in a way totally unexpected by Israel. Within today’s dominant Christian eschatology, Jesus’ role as Messiah was all about individual salvation through faith in him as the qualification for heaven after death. But there will be a “second coming” in which things will be different!

 In today’s default Christian eschatology there’s little focus on issues of justice and peace here and now because it is understood that nothing can be done until Christ returns to fulfill Israel’s original messianic expectation. For now, it’s virtually all about getting into heaven and being nice until Jesus returns.

The people of Israel, on the other hand, continue the original hope, even as a secular nation of Israel exists separate and distinct from that hope.

Christians have joined in that some-day hope of a world-dominant kingdom headed by a returning Jesus, but into that hope they have inserted ancient apocalyptic imagery that projects a cosmic, metaphysical quality that inspires post-apocalyptic movies and video games. I find nothing in the Christian Scriptures to validate such a scenario except metaphorically.

It is the abundance of metaphor that is the second factor that informs my understanding of biblical eschatology. The metaphors are rich and powerful, so long as they remain metaphors. Once they are squeezed into some conjectural literalism, they take on a fantasy quality. John Dominic Crossan’s quote comes to mind: “My point, once again, is not that those ancient people told literal stories and we are now smart enough to take them symbolically, but that they told them symbolically and we are now dumb enough to take them literally.”

The metaphors are necessary because what they communicate is a reality that transcends not only time and space, but also the human capacity to comprehend. In simple terms, God’s promise of "heaven" (again, a metaphor that has taken on anthropomorphic literal qualities) will exceed anything we can imagine, even when our imagination is based on metaphoric streets of gold and walls of diamond.

The metaphors are so rich and powerful that I have no illusion I can comprehend or even imagine their fulfillment. But I trust God for that unknowable eternity.

Having trusted in the faithfulness of God’s promise, and having accepted Jesus as the Way, the Truth, and the Life referenced in that promise, I leave it in God’s hands. Now I am free to follow Jesus’ Way, Truth, and Life here and now: “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it to me” (Matthew 25:40). The current obsession among some Christians to figure out all the details is a distraction from our calling thus to follow.

Beyond what I can control here and now, whatever God has in mind will come to pass, it will surpass anything I can anticipate, and none of my pondering (or yours) will influence when or how it will happen.

Let’s, while we wait, be about imitating Christ in our personal and community lives.

Together in the Walk,

Jim

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[1] Including, but not limited to: Hal Lindsey’s Late, Great Planet Earth (I have met and interacted with Lindsey, and I admire and respect him as a Christian. I just disagree with his eschatology), the Left Behind series of novels by Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins. There are other expression of today’s dominant Christian eschatology.

The Gospel in a Teacup: A Theological Perspective

     I think it was Martin Luther who said John 3:16 is “The Gospel in Miniature”. It’s also been called “The Gospel in a Nutshell”. While I affirm that characterization, such a condensation is like coming in at the middle of a movie. The Gospel is not an isolated truth. It is expressed in the culmination of centuries of an evolving relationship between humanity and humanity’s Creator. That evolving process must be delineated, or it will be assumed. And you know what “they say” happens when we assume.

The alternative, however, is clumsy and cumbersome. If we pause to lay out our assumptions and reassemble the context of every discussion, most discussions will lose momentum and coast to a stop before any significant conclusion is reached.

Without that cumbersome setup, however, the outcome of any significant conversation is predictable; indeed, we live that outcome most days of our lives: we end up with Democrats and Republicans and Libertarians and Tea Partiers—and Baptists and Catholics and Presbyterians and Quakers and Methodists and . . .

Gratefully, we still have options. (1) We can choose to respect and honor each other in our differences, and even to harvest an occasional pearl of wisdom and faith from our brothers and sisters and cousins with whom we differ. (2) We can assume our assessment of truth is absolute and deny any credibility on the part of any who dare disagree. From there, we can (2a) ignore or shun those who differ; (2b) contend with those who differ and try to persuade them to our perspective; (2c) try to destroy those who differ. Sadly, 2c is rapidly becoming the modus operandi of many persons and groups whose identity is grounded rigidly in any specific ideology.

For all these reasons I will need a container somewhat larger than a nutshell if I am to offer any summary perspective on the Gospel. There are Scriptural hooks upon which I hang my summary, and I will gladly share them upon request.

* * * * *

Humanity is created in the image of its Creator. This imago dei (divine image) includes freedom of choice. In granting free choice, our Creator freely, voluntarily and intentionally became vulnerable. Our Creator completely understood and accepted the risk that humans could choose ways inconsistent with the desire and purpose that motivated creation in the first place.

That desire and purpose was a fulfilling, loving relationship between Creator and creature. As the poet caricatured, “God said, ‘I’m lonely. I’ll make me a man.’”[1]

Our Creator set everything up; providing every necessity to sustain meaningful, purposeful life and relationship in an idyllic setting of pleasure and comfort. The Creator also established boundaries which, if honored, would insure the continuation of that pleasure and comfort and meaning. Within those boundaries was the revealed path toward full and abundant life and relationship with the Creator.

But the boundaries were permeable. Humanity had freedom of choice, without which no relationship is possible.

The boundary was a tree. Whether the tree was literal or metaphoric is irrelevant; indeed, it morphs into virtually unlimited images. For a toddler, it may be the burner on a stove and the related warning, “Hot!” The tree was called “the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.” Key word is “knowledge.” Perhaps the tree was a personification of the question, “Why?”

I don’t know if physics can have any correlation with theology (Astronomer, Carl Sagan, at least found a spiritual kind of awe in his work). A basic observation in physics is “for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction”. In human life and relationships natural consequences accompany every enacted choice. Most often those natural consequences are predictable: “Touch the burner and you’ll get burned.” “Hot!”

Predictable! But, how many toddlers heed adult advice regarding the “Hot!” burner?

We want to “know”. Instead of accepting the Creator’s loving provision and boundaries, we shift our focus to the persistent question, “What if I get it wrong?” Instead of accepting life as gift, we try to prove our worthiness: self-justification trumps grateful acceptance. Every time.

So here we humans are: sewing fig leaves together to hide our nakedness (which for some reason we assume is evil), hiding in the bushes and fabricating strategies calculated to escape responsibility and accountability for our choices. The “blame game” doesn’t work any better now than then; nevertheless, it remains the best humanity has been able to come up with.

And here is our Creator, “OK, you’ve chosen a different path than I laid out for full and abundant living. Let’s go to ‘Plan B.’ Let’s get you away from that tree; and since you want to feel useful, take some of my creative spirit and till the soil to produce your own food.”

When we humans choose a different path, our Creator is the master of improvisation, and provides everything necessary to redirect our path back toward the full and abundant life our Creator continues to offer and eternally desires for us.

Essentially, that’s the “Gospel.” That’s the “Good News.” We humans make choices that are not consistent with the Creator’s way of full, abundant living. Our different idea never works as we anticipate. But, the Creator is always with us, improvising a detour back to the Creator’s more productive path to fulfilling, loving relationship with the Creator and with each other.

The gospel has been played out again and again in virtually every generation, in virtually every individual life. The Bible is a faithful witness to that divine human dance: an accumulation of testimony and counter-testimony through generations of the Creator’s people as they struggle with their freedom of choice, living out the natural, predictable consequences, but always with the gracious offer of choosing the Creator’s improvised detour back to abundant life.

That gospel was ultimately lived out and demonstrated in the life of Jesus of Nazareth. There are multiple theories (called “atonement theories) explaining how the life of Jesus manifested the Creator’s improvised detour, and how we humans can become reconnected (reconciled) with the revealed path toward fulfilling, loving relationship with the Creator and with each other.

But virtually all atonement theories are extensions of the original human need to “know” the “right” way. The goal of virtually every atonement theory is to codify what is “right”, thereby guaranteeing (perhaps even obligating) the Creator’s acceptance and justification of our life.

The historic result has been to shatter the body of believers and to set them against one another.

The Gospel—the Good News—is that the Creator’s improvised detour is not of our devising; nor does it require our assent or understanding. Like every manifestation of the Creator’s love, the detour is provided as gift, personified in the life of a man who said, “Follow me.” In essence, the intention and effort to heed that call and to follow Jesus is, itself, an expression of faith and, finally, the enactment of the “right” choice.

Thanks be to God, Creator of all that is, Redeemer of all that is broken, and Sustainer of all that is holy!

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[1] James Weldon Johnson, (1964) [1927], God’s trombones: seven negro sermons in verse (hardback), Douglas, Aaron Ill; Falls, CB lettering, New York: Viking .

Guns Don't Kill

 “Guns don’t kill; people kill” is the mantra of the population for whom the “right to keep and bear arms” takes precedence over virtually all human life, which is really ironic, since the overlap with the “right-to-life” population would include most of both groups. The second amendment trumps right to life.

In my relatively small field of vision, nobody disagrees with that mantra.

“Thoughts and prayers” is the throw-away dismissal of the cult of the Second Amendment.

In my relatively small field of vision, nobody agrees that that’s enough.

In my view there are two factors that render the guns-don’t-kill mantra irrelevant and impotent. First, there is no effort, nor is there any apparent intention, to do anything to identify the people who do kill and restrict their access to guns.

Guns don’t kill; however, the love of guns, and the parallel unwillingness to mitigate the unregulated and virtually total access to guns by essentially anybody with the funds to do so is totally irresponsible and uncaring; furthermore, it is undeniably the greatest single contributor to the senseless mass slaughter of so many innocent and unsuspecting victims and to the grief of their families.

The second factor is the selective ignoring of the initial qualifying phrase of the second amendment so that the second half, viz., “the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed” is the sole focus of interpretation. The first half is totally ignored, even though numerous respected legal minds have pointed out its qualifying impact on the amendment. Hence, “A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State…” is not considered an important part of the amendment.

By Definition in 18^th century syntax (1791, when the second amendment was established) a militia consisted of live-at-home civilians who went about their private and family affairs, and were not billeted in an established military compound or assigned duties of a military nature; nor were they issued uniforms or firearms or other military equipment. Training was minimal at best. They were called up in emergencies, at which times they provided their own firearms.

The necessity of a “well-regulated militia” has long been supplanted by the establishment of a full-time standing military consisting of Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine Corps, and Coast Guard. Supplemental units (Reserves and/or National Guard) are subject to being called up and activated. Again, however, these supplemental units, when activated, are billeted in a military compound and are issued all necessary equipment, including firearms.

As defined and understood in 1791, the United States has no militia nor any need of one; therefore, it can be argued that the second amendment is archaic and has no applicable base in the twenty-first century.

All that being said, I have no desire to prohibit the possession of firearms by people who are mentally and emotionally stable and are not prone to substance abuse or irresponsible or impulsive behavior. Hunting, collecting, and competitive shooting seem, to me, the only valid and reasonable use of firearms by civilians.

Home security is a popular justification for firearms; however, multiple statistics document that one is more likely to be killed by natural disaster than by a home intruder or personal attack; indeed, persons who keep firearms in their home are more likely to die by gunfire than those who do not. In fact, the lesser-known, private tragedies that occur in homes accounts for substantially more deaths than do mass shootings.[1] The “security of a free state” that made necessary the keeping and bearing of arms in 1791 referred to a militia responding to a call to arms and engaging in fixed battles against an opposing threat to national security.

Arming school personnel has proven virtually useless in preventing school shootings, and even has been counterproductive in some cases.[2]

Finally, I am drawn to one word in the initial qualifying statement of the second amendment: “A well-regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State…” My attention is drawn to the word, “necessary.” To what extent are guns “necessary?” While it may seem an irrelevant question, especially to gun enthusiasts, it does seem relevant to the interpretation of the amendment.

Nevertheless, while I consider the second amendment as it is written to be basically irrelevant to twenty-first century application, it’s here to stay. There’s simply no way it will ever be rescinded or even amended.[3]

Until the proponents of gun ownership (and that would include me; although I don’t own a gun and don’t want one in my home) shift focus from the guns that don’t kill to the people who do kill (for the benefit of those who are being killed), blood will continue to run in our streets and in our school hallways.

That’s the way it looks through the flawed glass that is my world view.

Together in the Walk

Jim

 

 

 

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[1] One of may documentations of my comment: Owning Guns Puts People in Your Home at Greater Risk of Death | Time

[2] Again, one of many documentations of my comment: Guns in Schools | School Safety Resource Center (colorado.gov)

[3] There are two ways to rescind a constitutional amendment requires a two-thirds vote of both houses of congress (which ain’t gonna’ happen!), and ratification by three-fourths of the states. That means 13 states could defeat the motion to rescind. I can name twenty states that would vote against rescission. The second way to rescind an amendment is convene a constitutional convention, which would require two-thirds of the states to call for one. The amendment is iron-clad safe.

The Need to Be Right (or for Others to Be Wrong)

  Can we talk?

Is it just me, or does it seem that, in general, Christianity has evolved into a matter of who’s right and who’s wrong? Even among the theological elitists, there is almost a smugness in finding something "wrong" in someone else's witness. 

Maybe it’s always been that way. The New Testament Gospels, written in the last half of the first century partly responded to heresy. The epistles, written a generation or so earlier, even though they were primarily personal letters addressing practical questions, also addressed foundations of doctrine and confronted “false teachings.”

Peter and Paul, the primary influencers of the first generation of the church—Peter in Jerusalem among Jewish converts and Paul throughout Turkey, Greece and into Rome, working among Greco/Roman converts—carried on a bitter disagreement until it was resolved at the Jerusalem Council (cf. Acts 15). What we learn through their dispute and its resolution is that Christianity is adaptable; it touches people where they are with no prerequisite hoops to jump through in preparation to receive our “right” doctrine.

The infamous Inquisitions and Crusades of the Middle Ages, and even the Protestant Reformation itself, all were intended to punish heresy and infidelity and to extend “correct” doctrine.

So, maybe the greatest heritage of Christianity from the beginning is conflict over who gets it right and who gets it wrong.

More primal is the question of “ultimate reality” and my/our relationship with it: Who gets in and who gets thrown out. Calvinism, in particular, focused more on what is considered “wrong” than on what is considered “right.” The emphasis was on who gets in and who doesn’t, and Calvin made it pretty darn difficult to “get it.”

Bottom line, it all goes back to the Garden and the “fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.” Why would “the man” (adam in Hebrew) want to “know” good and evil? He was in paradise with everything provided, including a mutually gratifying mate.

But there was the tempter: “You’ll be like God, knowing good and evil.”

Hmmmm. "If I 'know,' I’ll be in control (like God). I can do good and avoid evil and thus, by my own initiative, can control my own destiny." But what happened instead was the introduction of doubt: “What if I get it wrong?”

From that moment (one understanding of original sin?), the history of humanity has been a desperate sense of alienation from self and from ultimate reality, and a related search for assurance that I’m getting it right. Faith says, “Just trust God’s word that you are loved and accepted.” But the opposite of Faith is not doubt. It’s knowledge. And it is knowledge that produces doubt, because with knowing comes unknowing--an awareness of the limits of our knowledge; thus, “What if I get it wrong?”

So, my hypothesis is that the right/wrong dichotomy that drives the divisiveness in humanity (including the church) is a manifestation of original sin: the need to know and the rejection of trust.

And one human myth says the way to be assured that “I’m right” is to label those who disagree with me as “wrong.”

What we learn through Luke 9:49-50[1], Mark 9:38-40[2], and Philippians 1:15-18[3] is that even those who teach a different doctrine are affirmed in their witness by both Jesus and Paul[4]; therefore, can be affirmed by us.

What if we simply live as if we truly believe what we say we believe, viz., that “God did not send the son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved.” (John 3:17)? Did God fail in God’s purpose? Do we really believe that “through him” (Jesus) we are made at one (atoned) with God and with each other; indeed, with ourselves?

Was God only partially successful in God’s intention that “the world through him might be saved?” Could God not save some because God had set up rules that have to be followed—hoops through which we have to jump—as prerequisites to realizing success? Wouldn’t that put the burden on us, rather than on the grace of God? Or is grace selective? Does grace exclude? Is grace insufficient to cover all our faults and errors?

How would we relate to another person who disagrees with us if we experienced no need to prove him/her wrong? How would we relate if we had no need to prove ourselves right? How would we relate if we trusted that our relationship with God and our eternal destinies (and the other person’s relationship with God and eternal destiny) are functions of God’s grace and not of our being right?

At another level, when you judge whether another person’s faith is wrong, does that exercise bring you closer to God? Do you experience God’s presence in the act of assigning right/wrong absolutes on others—or yourself?

I suspect you’re somewhat like me: you’re more likely to feel a divine presence when you live and relate as if you truly believe what you say you believe, and exercise that belief, not through comparing doctrine or theology, but through an imitation of Jesus, who did not come to condemn the world…

That’s the way it looks through the Flawed Glass that is my world view.

Together in the Walk,

Jim

 

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[1] “John answered, ‘Master, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him because he does not follow with us.’ ⁵⁰But Jesus said to him, ‘Do not stop him, for whoever is not against you is for you.’” (NRSVUE)

[2] “John said to him, ‘Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him because he was not following us.’ ³⁹But Jesus said, ‘Do not stop him, for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me. ⁴⁰Whoever is not against us is for us.’” (NRSVUE)

[3]  “Some proclaim Christ from envy and rivalry but others from goodwill. ¹⁶These proclaim Christ out of love, knowing that I have been put here for the defense of the gospel; ¹⁷the others proclaim Christ out of selfish ambition, not sincerely but intending to increase my suffering in my imprisonment. ¹⁸What does it matter? Just this, that Christ is proclaimed in every way, whether out of false motives or true, and in that I rejoice.” (NRSVUE)

[4] A particularly cogent observation, since one recent right/wrong discussion regards the influence of Paul on current understandings of Jesus. Some say current Christianity is more a reflection of Paul than of Jesus, and that Paul misleads the faith (read: “is wrong”). I’m only just discovering that argument, and am not yet informed enough to weigh in.