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!

---

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

Come, Holy Spirit!

This may not be the best time for me to write. My heart is heavy—grieving. I’m not angry; although, anger surrounds us and increasingly becomes the norm among some parts of our American population. I’m sure I’ll be angry at some point. Anger is a normal part of grief.

I find myself on the verge—and sometimes into the abyss—of tears more and more frequently. I recall that dreadful news clip of the fiery crash of the Hindenburg, and the sobbing voice of the reporter, “Oh! The humanity! The humanity!”

How calloused have we become when we so rarely are moved to tears at the sight of human suffering? What hideous kind of demon possesses one human to kneel on the neck of another human—a human who is face-down on the ground, handcuffed, with two other humans kneeling on his back—a human who is crying, “I can’t breathe! Please!”? And what kind of inhuman creature looks on, apparently more concerned about the camera that is recording it all than about the human who is gasping for his dying breath?

“Kneeling on a man’s neck is an extreme and dangerous step, well out of bounds for ordinary police procedures. The kneeling officer appears to have a long track record of complaints.”[1] I’ve seen three videos, each from a different perspective. In none of them did it appear that Floyd was resisting or uncooperative.

I know: there is a report that George Floyd had preconditions “including coronary artery disease and hypertensive heart disease”; and the preliminary autopsy showed, “no physical findings that support a diagnosis of traumatic asphyxia or strangulation.” The report said death likely was caused by the "combined effect of Floyd being restrained by the police, his underlying health conditions, and any potential intoxicants in his system.”[2]

Does such an analysis diminish the inhumanity of three humans sworn “to serve and protect?” As a medical layman I have to ask, “Would such unnecessary use of force exacerbate the preexisting factors, thereby possibly—even probably—contributing to Floyd’s death?”

But, I linger too long on one specific instance, when my grief is over the increasing commonness of justifying inhuman behavior on the basis of ideological absolutism. The controversy over where to stand in relation to George Floyd’s death appears to line up consistently with every other controversy in America: conservatives line up against liberals.

There seems little possibility that there ever will be an issue in which both liberals and conservatives agree. And there seems little possibility ever again that those disagreements will be pursued with respect and integrity. I see very little indication that anyone on either side wants to resolve any of the issues that divide them. Most just want to win the fight.

And so, I grieve. And the tears come more frequently.

We are watching something cancerous grow faster and faster each cay. It is, in my estimation, the satanic spawn of absolutized individualism run amok. Don’t misunderstand. I serve a master whose sacrificial love for individuals is unsurpassed in human history. But, Ayn Rand notwithstanding, the master I serve also called his followers to love one another sacrificially, to serve one another in humility, even to the point of washing one another’s feet, and to love one’s neighbor as oneself. And he defined one’s neighbor in his Parable of the Good Samaritan—a parable, incidentally, about reaching across lines of ethnicity to serve anyone who is in need.

The individual is important, and the individual’s importance is embellished in service to other individuals. Our individual importance reaches its highest potential when we “lose ourselves”. All four gospels report Jesus saying, “Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. (Matthew 10:39 NRSV). I like the way the Message Paraphrase puts it: “If your first concern is to look after yourself, you’ll never find yourself. But if you forget about yourself and look to me, you’ll find both yourself and me.”

I write as a Christian Pastor to Christians; however, Christians are as divided and as hostile as the rest of the culture (which is a primary reason the church has been in decline for a half-century), and I struggle to find hope that peace and reconciliation can come from Christianity so divided. Therefore, my appeal is to all who are of a similar mindset, regardless of your spiritual base. I believe respect, integrity and compassion have no ideological or credal boundaries, and that people of all spiritualities can unite in the effort to be agents of healing and reconciliation.

Today is Pentecost. Christians celebrate it as the birthday of the church and recite the biblical story of the Holy Spirit of God descending upon a broken, frightened little band of Jesus’ disciples. The Spirit filled them, and they turned the world upside down. I suspect that our nation will not be healed by human effort apart from that same Spirit.

So, come Holy Spirit. Come as wind and breathe into us a passion for the humility of Jesus, who washed his disciples’ feet.

Come Holy Spirit. Come as fire and burn away all the divisive arrogance that solidifies our human understandings of your purpose.

Come Holy Spirit. Come as a dove and bring us peace.

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

Together in the Walk,

Jim

---

[1] https://www.nationalreview.com/2020/05/george-floyd-death-minneapolis-riots-justice-requires-order/. I point out that the “National Review” is a conservative source. The inherent danger of such restraint was reported in several additional sources.

[2] https://www.insider.com/george-floyd-non-responsive-before-officer-took-knee-off-neck-2020-5

Life as Consequence

[Note: these Lenten blogs may seem redundant to my readers (both of you). Remember that these blogs journal a personal spiritual journey. I revisit previous material, sometimes to refresh, sometimes to check out, “Did I really get that right?” etc. Each re-visitation takes me deeper into understanding. Hopefully, my reexaminations are not distracting for my readers.]

The Millennial Generations [Generations “X” (born 1965-1981) and “Y” (born 1982-2000)] are turned off religiously by rules, doctrine, institutional church polity and judgmentalism. Come to think of it, so am I.

Millennials want a simple, honest spirituality based upon following Jesus. They want a faith with integrity—one that is lived, more than preached. Come to think of it, so do I.

But for me the idea was still mostly cognitive (head stuff) until my nephew (a “Millennial”) began developing the idea of spending a year trying to experience what it means to follow Jesus—truly. Here’s a link to his "Jesus Project": My Jesus Project

I don’t believe in fate—that life is scripted and everything is planned and “meant to be.” I believe things happen because we make choices: some good; some bad. Life is the complex network of consequences resulting from human choices.

And I don’t believe in luck. I believe "Luck is where opportunity and preparedness meet.” (source unknown)

But I also believe that God is present in all of this, calling humanity to follow a particular “Way.” The clearest articulation of that divine invitation is Jesus of Nazareth.

God has a plan, and invites us to follow that plan. When we accept God’s invitation, life makes sense, at least more often than when we choose our own way (and each of us at some time thinks, “I have a better idea”). When we choose our own way a complex network of consequences confronts us with confusion, distrust, fear and occasional violence. Human culture is the mix of consequences of diverse human choices.

But, again, while I don’t believe in fate, sometimes life happens in unexplained ways: some good, some bad. Long ago I gave up the need to explain everything in life; and, “Why?” is a useless word in most cases of the unexplained.

So, recently my attention was tweaked while looking for a book to download. I’m following my nephew’s “Jesus Project”, and even outlining a series of sermons on following Jesus. So, my eye was drawn irresistibly to part of a book title that read, …And Why We All Need to Learn to Read the Bible Like Jesus Did. (my underlining)

It seemed like a “God Moment,” so I downloaded it, and within a few pages I was being “Led by the Spirit” into the wilderness of my Lenten journey.

Derek Flood, the author, takes on the Old Testament contradictions that have troubled people of faith for centuries. For most of my adult life I've understood them as the residue of a progressive human understanding of God, the earlier understandings reflecting a more violent, vengeful, warrior God and the later understandings moving toward Jesus’ articulation of God as merciful, redeeming Father.

Flood doesn't try to make the contradictions go away. Drawing from Walter Brueggemann, he submits that the contradictions are an intentional and essential part of Scripture.They represent an ongoing debate as people of faith try to comprehend the nature of God. One side of the debate reflects a territorial, vengeful warrior divinity who demands violence to the point of genocide.

The other side, quite possibly emerging from the faith of Melchizedek (Gen 14:17-18; Ps 110:4; Hebrews 5-7), posits a God who enters into covenant with humanity: relating and sustaining, holding humanity accountable to the covenant, but always offering grace and redemption when human faithfulness wavers.

The Scriptures offer these contradictory images, says Brueggemann, as testimony/counter-testimony, as in a courtroom debate. The dispute was ongoing in the adversarial relationship between Jesus and the Pharisees, and continues today in the polarization between conservatives and liberals of the faith.

The gospels seem unavoidably obvious as to which side of the debate Jesus took. And yet, the debate continues to divide the community of faith that gathers in his name. In most cases it’s a matter of emphasis: grace vs. law, faith vs. works. Virtually all Christians talk about “salvation by grace, through faith;” but, some say that repentance must precede grace, while others say that grace is the power that enables repentance. [You say tomato, I say to-mah-to… and how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?]

The debate, itself, has become the contradiction and distraction at the heart of the sixty-year decline in the North American church. The “spiritually yearning, institutionally disillusioned public”[1] is growing, and its discontent is finding voice in those who cry, “The grace/law-faith/works debate has distracted the church long enough! Is your faith in Jesus or in the correctness of your doctrine?”

In many ways we've confused faith with the content of belief. But faith is a verb. Faith is the living out of belief. Belief, no matter how fervently held, puts one on the same level as the demons, who also believe (James 2:19). Belief is “talking the talk.” Faith is “walking the walk.” And a whole generation, joined by a few of us older types, is confronting a divided, bickering Christianity, saying, “Shut up and walk!”

Imagine the consequences if we really did that.

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

Together in the Walk,

Jim

---

[1] Thomas G. Bandy, Christian Chaos (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1999). This population is mentioned and described in this and several other of Bandy's books, including, Coaching Change, Kicking Habits: Welcome Relief for Addicted Churches, and others.

Confusing Choices

For me, spiritual growth is not so much a process of reaffirming what I already believe and making it stronger (although that often happens) as it is venturing beyond my comfort zone and walking with the God who is “always making all things new” (Rev 21:5).

By definition, growth is change, and there are community dimensions, as well as individual dimensions, to spiritual growth. The Bible is a record of individuals and of a people who grew in their relationship with their God, each generation passing on to the next generation the cumulative testimony of that relationship. We are beneficiaries of their testimony, and are afforded the opportunity—indeed, the responsibility—of expanding and enriching that relationship and passing our testimony on to subsequent generations.

The one constant throughout that testimony is change. Abram, a Habiru (?) from Chaldea had a life-changing (and history-forming) encounter with God at Shechem, and changed from a nomadic life of questionable character to a settled agrarian life, quite possibly participating in an established community of faith led by the mysterious priestly figure of Melchizedek of Salem (Genesis 14:17-18).

His change was of such depth that his name was changed from Abram (Father of Height, or Father of Praise) to Abraham (Father of a Multitude). And the change continued when he intended to offer his son, Isaac as a sacrifice, and grew to understand that God did not want human sacrifice (although there is evidence that some pockets of Israel continued to practice it into the sixth century BCE), and that God would provide whatever was needed.

We follow the descendants of Abraham as their prophets (especially Amos, Isaiah and Jeremiah) grow into the understanding that God does not want sacrifice at all, but considers ethical behavior toward fellow humans (especially the poor) to be a proper expression of worship (although the general population did not understand that, and in general the Christian community today still wrestles with questions of “the right way” to worship and whether to serve the poor at all.)

Jesus took the prophetic teachings to their highest point, saying that no matter what form or worship one expresses, if it does not motivate ethical behavior within the community, and especially in regard to the poor, it is meaningless. Again, the community of faith in general still has not assimilated that teaching.

Change is always resisted; and the strongest rationale for resistance is that the faith must be defended. Such rationale assumes “the faith” is static—a one-and-done thing that does not grow. But the question soon must be faced: are we really defending “the faith,” or are we protecting our own position relative to the status quo? A faith community that can rationalize genocide in the name of God (as in Deut 20:16) can rationalize anything.

Previously we have suggested that Jesus rejects the status of earlier testimony regarding the divine/human relationship, especially when the earlier testimony advocated violence and retribution. Consider the example of Elijah calling down fire from heaven to prove he is a “man of God” by consuming 50 soldiers and their captain (2 Kings 1:10). When Jesus is rejected by the people of a Samaritan village, James and John, perhaps hoping to follow Elijah’s example, ask Jesus if they should call down fire from heaven to destroy them. Jesus not only rejects the Elijah narrative, he sternly rebukes his disciples for even suggesting it (Luke 9:55-56). Where Elijah claimed the action proved his status as a “man of God,” Jesus makes the opposite claim: the true man of God would not obliterate life to save, heal and restore it (later versions of the Lukan passage, as well as Luke 19:10, John 3:17, et. al.)

Walter Brueggemann makes the point that the Old Testament is a record of disputing testimony (see the previous blog), and Jesus calls us to enter the dispute. “In fact, because of its multiple conflicting narratives we simply must choose, we must take sides in the debate, we are forced to embrace some narratives while rejecting others.

“The key difference between Jesus and the Pharisees … is in which narratives they chose to embrace. Similarly, the question for us is not whether or not we will choose, but rather which narratives we choose to embrace, and how will we choose them?”[1]

The more cutting question in my mind not “how,” but “why” we choose the narratives that inform our faith and guide our spiritual, emotional, mental, physical, relational and even our political lives. Why would any Christian choose to base his or her faith and behavior upon a text of Scripture that advances violence or retribution when Jesus clearly and repeatedly rejects violence and retribution— unconditionally?

This blog is a journal of my own spiritual journey, so I ask of myself, am I motivated by a need to protect “The Bible” (or at least my understanding of it), or by a desire to follow Jesus into an unknown wilderness and thus risk having to change? (Ironically, to follow Jesus requires trusting in the Scriptural witness about him.) Is that growth?

I wish I could see more clearly through the flawed glass that is my world view.

Together in the Walk,

Jim

---

[1] Derek Flood, Disarming Scriptures: Cherry-Picking Liberals, Violence-Loving Conservatives, and Why We All Need to Learn to Read the Scriptures Like Jesus Did (San Francisco: Metanoia Books, 2014), Kindle edition, Location 668 (emphases his).

An Invitation to Balance

I am not a Muslim. Nor am I a Jew, a Hindu, Buddhist, Methodist, Catholic or Baptist (although I honor and cherish my Baptist background); nor am I an advocate for any of the above. I recognize that each has made positive contributions and had negative impact on human history, and I respect the right of anyone to adhere to any of them.

This writing will not argue the relative merits or weaknesses of any of the above. While I am more than willing to share my own faith perspectives with any who want to hear, I have no desire—indeed, I have no right—to inflict my perspectives on anyone who does not wish to listen.[1]

I advocate open sharing between all the above, in order to generate greater mutual understanding and appreciation, because there is much common ground among all us—common ground upon which to build a more peaceful, cooperative and enriched humanity.

But I face a wall. I've lived on the other side of the wall, so I think I understand and empathize with those who are there, and I have no wish to insist that they conform to my perspective before we proceed.

Here’s the wall: there are those who, because of their utterly sincere faith and commitment do insist that all humanity accept their confession of faith before we proceed. Nor does their faith and commitment encourage them to collaborate with those who are not under their roof.

I understand that. As I say, I’ve held the same passion as they; a passionate belief that they hold the exclusive, ultimate truth of God—which is the only path to God and to eternal salvation—and that they are responsible for proclaiming that truth until all of humanity has accepted it and has made the same affirmations they have made.

I honor that sense of commitment, nor would I ask them to cease and desist in their efforts (although I would wish them to honor the rights of those who feel violated by some of their strategies. Indeed, I find some of their strategies counterproductive to the Gospel. That’s another debate I’m willing to pursue, but in a different venue.)

Jim Wallis[2] recalls a public forum in which he debated a close friend and colleague, Southern Baptist seminary president, Dr. Albert Mohler. The topic was, “Is social justice an essential part of the gospel and the mission of the church?”[3]

Wallis argued yes, justice is integral to the gospel. Dr. Mohler said no, arguing that social justice was important but that “the gospel” was the atonement brought about in Christ that saves us from our sins and secures our souls for heaven. Wallis reports:

“It was a very civil and respectful conversation because Al and I know each other and because both of us wanted to demonstrate a kind of discourse different from what now prevails in our culture and politics. But we did disagree, and our disagreement is at the heart of very different visions today for the future of the church” (emphasis mine).

First of all, I find it refreshing and encouraging when disagreeing Christians debate with civility and respect, and remain close friends.

In this writing, let’s affirm Dr. Mohler’s stance that biblical imperatives for justice are important, but only an implication of the gospel. In practice, I have rarely seen evangelicals acknowledge social justice as important at all.

In fairness, I confess that, except for a few congregations and isolated judicatory examples, my own denomination is seriously lacking in effective evangelistic theory and practice. Actually, many of our constituents reject evangelism as valid (although, I have the sense that by evangelism they mean those counterproductive strategies to which I refer earlier).

So, here’s my question: can we overlap? Is it possible for evangelical and mainline Christians to work together on both evangelism and social justice without anyone compromising a priority?

I understand that we don’t even agree on terminology (e.g., I and most mainline Protestants don’t buy “substitutionary” atonement.) 

But, bottom line, whether atonement/justification/salvation is substitutionary or exemplary or sacramental or reconciliatory or universal, the overwhelming majority of Christians will agree that Jesus is the medium through which God extended (or at least demonstrated) that salvation, and that such extension/demonstration was an expression of pure grace.

Never mind that we won’t even agree totally on what grace is (e.g., virtually all will say it is “unmerited favor;” that it can’t be earned. But some will place prerequisites upon the reception of grace, while others will say it is given gratuitously.)

Never mind that we will never agree on all of the faith. Can we at least start to work together, just so the world can witness what a united Body of Christ looks like?

Gandhi is reported to have said, “I love your Jesus. It’s Christians that give me problems.” 

A sizeable portion of the generation called “Millennials” would agree, and are leaving the church en mass. Thomas G, Bandy calls them the fastest growing spiritual population in North America: the "spiritually yearning, institutionally disillusioned public."

Can we begin to remove that roadblock to the Gospel?

That’s how I see it through the flawed glass that is my world view.

Together in the Walk,

Jim

---

[1] I do not limit this discussion to the groups named above; indeed, should I try to be all-inclusive, it would be an exercise in futility. Suffice it to say that the above constitutes a representative sampling of the human diversity that I believe enriches humanity.

[2] Wallis is a self-proclaimed evangelical; although, his social activism has resulted in his being pushed, at best, to the periphery of evangelical circles. Indeed, many evangelicals reject him as a valid Christian voice.

[3] Wallis, Jim (2013-08-15). Who Jesus Is and Why It Matters (Ebook Shorts) (Kindle Locations 192-213). Baker Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.