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.

 

Lifting Up Christ

A common foundation for doctrinal absolutism is the dictum, “God said it; I believe it; and that settles it.” Too often, the reality is that God didn’t say it. Some fourth-grade Sunday School teacher or some preacher with serious control issues said it.

See, here’s the thing: too many of us Christians don’t trust God to be God and to do the things God does. Too many of us don’t really believe in Grace as unmerited favor. We think, in our arrogance, that Grace is dependent upon the inerrancy of our proclamation and the absolute necessity of our agenda. And so, we bang away at inflicting our tunnel-vision obsessions about how things “ought” to be, instead of lifting up Jesus.

Jesus said (my paraphrase) “If I am lifted up, I will draw all people to me;”[1] but, we don’t really believe that, so we bang away at abortion and homosexuality and correct doctrine and social justice, and we debate each other over issues of individual responsibility versus social responsibility. And we—not God—demand conformity to our understanding of eternal mysteries. Moreover, much of our babbling is informed more by political ideology and social prejudices than by the biblical witness!

In the process, our efforts have done more harm than good, and the result is a shattered Body of Christ. Today’s most visible and verbal manifestations of Church are driving more people away from Christ than they attract.

Jesus said, “If I am lifted up, I will draw all people to me.” What therefore is suggested by the fact that more people are fleeing the church than are uniting in a common extension of Jesus’ life and ministry? Do I need to spell it out?

In Luke 10:5-9, Jesus sent 70 disciples on their first mission, giving them specific instructions. While some would argue that it’s a different version of the same event, all three Synoptic Gospel report the sending out of the 12, with similar instructions.[2]

In his parting instructions in Matthew 28 and in Acts 1, Jesus commissioned his disciples to “Go … and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, ²⁰and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.” (Matthew 28:19-20 NRSV) And “…you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” Luke 1:8 (NRSV)

My point is this: in every case the instructions were to go [without compensation beyond room and board; but that’s another issue altogether], to offer peace, to cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons, to proclaim the good news of the kingdom, and to “make disciples” and “be my witnesses.”

The sum of Jesus’ instructions included serving and ministering to the sick and marginalized people (“the least of these”[3]) and proclaiming “good news” related to the kingdom of heaven. There is nothing in his instructions about judging or condemning. Indeed, he was notorious for hobnobbing with whores and Publicans, and said those people were more fit than the religious elite for the kingdom of God. It was about “lifting up,” rather than about “putting down.” That kind of gospel attracted followers and created disciples!

When Jesus’ ministry did involve criticism or condemnation it virtually always was aimed at those whose priorities elevated power and wealth over compassion and spirituality, who mistreated the poor, the widows, the lepers and the dispossessed, and who used religious authority (and/or a fusion of religious and political power) to benefit themselves and keep dissidents in their place.

Jesus described the kingdom and his own role in it as sacrificial service. He summed up his first sermon by saying (my paraphrase again), “Seek first the kingdom of God and God’s righteousness, and all your other concerns will find their proper place in your lives.” (Matthew 6:33)

But too many of us don’t believe that. The “spiritually yearning but institutionally disillusioned public”[4] avoids the church because they see us struggling to exert our political/religious agenda, using whatever ends-justify-the-means strategy necessary to accomplish the task. That’s what they see; and in too many cases their vision is accurate. Sadly, like most everyone else, they stereotype all expressions of organized Christianity on the basis of those impressions. Thus the reality of a fragmented church trying to minister in a fragmented world.

The most verbal proclaimers of Christianity don’t truly believe that if we simply point to Jesus, lift him up and seek first the kingdom, the kingdom will come, “on earth as it is in heaven.” And the harder they work at lifting up their agendas of condemnation and coercion, and as long as they insist on conformity to their ideologies and agendas as prerequisites to grace and inclusion in God’s kingdom, the longer the kingdom’s coming will be delayed.

That’s the way I see it through the “Flawed Glass” that is my world view.

Together in the Walk,

Jim

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[1] I understand the context in which Jesus said this and acknowledge that his intention was much broader than my application here; however, I believe my understanding is not contrary to the overall teachings and ministry of Jesus. I am open to discussion on the matter.

[2] Matthew 10:7-11; Mark 6:8-13; Luke 9:2-6.

[3] Matthew 25:40, 45

[4] A term coined and developed by Thomas G. Bandy in Christian Chaos, Kicking Habits, Moving off the Map, Growing Spiritual Redwoods, et. al.

Original Sin?

It has bothered me for years, and I have spoken and written about it many times; so, for those who know me at all, this may seem redundant. Hopefully, there will be a new angle today: some new insight you or I (or, even better, we) may understand for the first time.

I’ve been reading John Kennedy’s Profiles in Courage, in which the late president quotes from John Quincy Adams’ diary:

“I have already had occasion to experience, which I had before the fullest reason to expect, the dangers of adhering to my own principles. The country is so totally given up to the spirit of party that not to follow blindfolded the one or the other is an expiable offence. … Between both, I see the impossibility of pursuing the dictates of my own conscience without sacrificing every prospect, not merely of advancement, but even of retaining that character and reputation I have enjoyed. Yet my choice is made, and, if I cannot hope to give satisfaction to my country, I am at least determined to have the approbation of my own reflections.”[1]

John Quincy felt he was uniquely and solely qualified and duly compelled by God alone to enact and promote specific policies and principles. His adamancy (many called it blatant stubbornness) did not help him win friends and influence people. As Kennedy put it, “He was, after all, ‘an Adams … cold, tactless and rigidly conscientious.’”[2]

And yet, what most severely alienated him from even his own Federalist Party was that he prioritized the good of the country over the platform of his, or any other, party. After serving as sixth President of the United States, he was elected to serve in the legislature of his home state of Massachusetts. When first asked to serve in that capacity, he agreed, but declared that he would not actively seek or campaign for the office, and, if elected, he would serve on the basis of his own sense of what was right, “completely independent of my party or the ones who elect me.” Adams remains one of few American statesmen who served from a non-partisan position.

It’s been around since Cain and Able, and has manifested itself at the social level at least since Abraham’s son, Ishmael, viz., a hateful, antagonistic division, defined by diverse ideology or competing self-interest. We humans simply cannot tolerate any divergence from our own individual and/or group ideology or goals. It makes virtually no difference how large a group may be, or how the group is constituted and designed. It can be a couple or a family, a sports team, a civic or fraternal organization, a religious community, town, state, tribe or nation; but, it is most visible in the political partisanism that has raged in virtually every culture since humanity manifested a social nature.

If there is an original sin that has cursed humanity, it’s not the eating of an apple. It’s our failure to accept each other on the same basis God accepts us, viz., grace. Indeed, we don’t even accept the grace God extends to us (which may well explain our human tendencies toward adversarialism).

In theological terms, we speak of “realized grace” as a category distinct from grace, itself. Though grace is extended to all, without merit, we humans have great difficulty realizing and accepting “something for nothing” (which is precisely what grace is!) In the experience of unworthiness regarding offered grace, we humans attempt to justify ourselves by comparing ourselves with others: “I’m not as bad as she!” (a practice Jesus compared to taking the speck out of a brother’s eye while ignoring the log in one’s own eye).

Yet, when we put conditions on grace, we thereby totally erase any vestige of its qualities. The moment it is made conditional in any way, it ceases to be grace, and we all are condemned, “for all have sinned” (Romans 3:23). Thus, in our condition of “unrealized grace,” our struggle for justification takes on the aforementioned adversarial nature.

It is significant that Jesus’ parable of the unforgiving servant (Matthew 18:23-35) immediately follows his response to Peter’s question, “Lord, if (a brother) sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.”[3]

Perhaps the first step in overcoming our partisan divisions is to surrender our obsession with self-justification, and to open ourselves to the possibility of grace. German-American pastor, teacher, and theologian, Paul Tillich, put it this way in one of his most frequently read sermons:

“There is too often a graceless acceptance of Christian doctrines and a graceless battle against the structures of evil in our personalities. Such a graceless relation to God may lead us by necessity either to arrogance or to despair. 

It would be better to refuse God and the Christ and the Bible than to accept them without grace. For if we accept without grace, we do so in the state of separation, and can only succeed in deepening the separation. [Italics mine.]

We cannot transform our lives, unless we allow them to be transformed by that stroke of grace. It happens; or it does not happen. And certainly, it does not happen if we try to force it upon ourselves, just as it shall not happen so long as we think, in our self-complacency, that we have no need of it.

Grace strikes us when we are in great pain and restlessness. It strikes us when we walk through the dark valley of a meaningless and empty life. It strikes us when we feel that our separation is deeper than usual, because we have violated another life, a life which we loved, or from which we were estranged.

It strikes us when our disgust for our own being, our indifference, our weakness, our hostility, and our lack of direction and composure have become intolerable to us. It strikes us when, year after year, the longed-for perfection of life does not appear, when the old compulsions reign within us as they have for decades, when despair destroys all joy and courage.

Sometimes at that moment a wave of light breaks into our darkness, and it is as though a voice were saying: "You are accepted. You are accepted, accepted by that which is greater than you, and the name of which you do not know. Do not ask for the name now; perhaps you will find it later. Do not try to do anything now; perhaps later you will do much. Do not seek for anything; do not perform anything; do not intend anything. Simply accept the fact that you are accepted!"

If that happens to us, we experience grace. After such an experience we may not be better than before, and we may not believe more than before. But everything is transformed. In that moment, grace conquers sin, and reconciliation bridges the gulf of estrangement. And nothing is demanded of this experience, no religious or moral or intellectual presupposition, nothing but acceptance. 

In the light of this grace we perceive the power of grace in our relation to others and to ourselves. We experience the grace of being able to look frankly into the eyes of another, the miraculous grace of reunion of life with life. We experience the grace of understanding each other's words. We understand not merely the literal meaning of the words, but also that which lies behind them, even when they are harsh or angry. For even then there is a longing to break through the walls of separation.

We experience the grace of being able to accept the life of another, even if it be hostile and harmful to us, for, through grace, we know that it belongs to the same Ground to which we belong, and by which we have been accepted. We experience the grace which is able to overcome the tragic separation of the sexes, of the generations, of the nations, of the races, and even the utter strangeness between man and nature. Sometimes grace appears in all these separations to reunite us with those to whom we belong. For life belong to life. [Italics mine. This is the key to my thoughts today.]

And in the light of this grace we perceive the power of grace in our relation to ourselves. We experience moments in which we accept ourselves, because we feel that we have been accepted by that which is greater than we. If only more such moments were given to us! For it is such moments that make us love our life, that make us accept ourselves, not in our goodness and self- complacency, but in our certainty of the eternal meaning of our life. We cannot force ourselves to accept ourselves. We cannot compel anyone to accept himself. But sometimes it happens that we receive the power to say "yes" to ourselves, that peace enters into us and makes us whole, that self-hate and self-contempt disappear, and that our self is reunited with itself. Then we can say that grace has come upon us.[4]

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 F. Kennedy, Profiles in Courage (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1956) page 38-39 (italics mine).

[2] Ibid, page 39.

[3] The saying is rendered, “seventy times seven times” in some translations. In either case, the number seven signified completion or perfection, and to pair it with itself—or to multiply it times itself—was to make it infinite. The intention here is that one’s forgiveness should be without limits or conditions.

[4] Paul Tillich, “You are Accepted”, Chapter 19 in The Shaking of the. Foundations (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1948).

Lent Again

It’s Lent again. Day six. Lent is a forty-day season in which some churches focus their worship on preparing for Easter.

 The forty days represents Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness immediately following his baptism by John. There in the wilderness he struggled with his sense of identity and method in his life of obedience to the call of God. He was tempted to answer God’s call in several ways, but resisted those ineffective and counterproductive temptations, choosing instead the path of obedience.

Thus, for the Christian who observes Lent, it is a season of prayerful self-examination, repentance and recommitment to God’s call and claim upon his or her life.

In the oldest traditions of Lent, the Christian gives up something during the season: desserts or some other favorite food or drink, television, the Internet, etc. For the last three years I’ve chosen, rather than giving something up, to take some additional act of discipline: some topic of study or reading or writing. Last year I chose to read the gospels and write a daily blog on what it meant to follow Jesus. My intention was to take ten examples from each of the four Gospels, but by the end of Lent I was still in Matthew; in fact, by the end of the year I still hadn’t finished with Matthew’s Gospel (although I have to admit my writing slowed down significantly after Lent was ended.)

This year my wife and I are leading a study of Tim Cameron’s book, The Forty-Day Word Fast: A Spiritual Journey to Eliminate Toxic Words from Your Life. Cameron approaches his thesis through six categories of what he calls “toxic words”: judgments, criticism, sarcasm, negativity, complaining and gossip. In retrospect, I realized that in our first session we spent a lot of time describing how others (including absent spouses) were bad about using those toxic words. I suspect it will be a struggle for each of us to own up to our own impulse to use those words.

Cameron urges his readers to choose, instead, words that encourage and heal and restore. It’s the same song I’ve been singing through these blogs and on social media for some time; so I was drawn to the book.

I’ve not completed reading the book, yet; but, already I find myself wanting to say, “Yeah, but…” It’s true: Jesus used words to heal and restore and reconcile; and yet, he also confronted hypocritical religious leaders, corrupt politicians and apathetic people of faith. He used sharp words, and even physical force.

If I truly desire to follow Jesus I also will confront hypocrisy, corruption, injustice and cruelty—all those things called “sin” in the Scriptures. So, where is the line, and when do I cross it from Christ-like confrontation to destructive, counterproductive words that are antithetical to the love of God as manifest in Christ?

Today on social media I saw a video that may provide the solution to my struggle. The video demonstrated how a school stopped issuing detentions and other forms of punishment, turning instead to teaching students how to meditate—to find a calm center in their lives. As a result, the school’s environment changed completely. Here's a link: [https://www.facebook.com/DavidAvocadoWolfe/videos/10154276021811512/]

 

I call that a manifestation of Grace. Grace is not permissiveness (although sometimes it resembles permissiveness), and it’s more than forgiveness (although it includes forgiveness). Grace makes punishment irrelevant, because grace is transforming.

In permissiveness, something is overlooked. In grace, something is overcome.

Nor does grace always come wrapped in religious liturgies and tied with a holy bow. God is not confined to our understandings or expressions of faith. Grace transcends all our doctrines and ministries.

What if, as I eliminate toxic words from my life, I replace them, not just with sweet-sounding, uplifting words (although there’s absolutely no reason to avoid those kinds of words), but more importantly, with words that will build up—words that will make a difference.

What if I work to identify words that will confront and challenge, not with judgment, criticism, sarcasm, negativity, complaining and gossip, but rather with words that demonstrate and accomplish grace?

As I pray for God’s strength to eliminate those toxic words, may God’s grace be extended to me, that my words may edify and point to “a more excellent way.”

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

Together in the Walk,

Jim

My 2016 Lenten Journey--Day 29

March 9, 2016 ~ Day 29

My 2016 Lenten Journey: Exploring the Gospels to discover what following Jesus and becoming more like him would look like? ‘And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself” (John 12:32 NRSV).

Matthew 9:9-13 ~ Jesus calls Matthew—a tax collector, a Publican, a Jew who worked for the hated Romans, collecting taxes. The Roman government levied an amount; but the Publicans could charge whatever they wished, and could keep everything over the levy. Needless to say, the Publicans were hated. But they also were rich.

With whom would you compare Publicans in our 21^st century North American culture? The list is potentially long! Not all corporate entities are unscrupulous; however, some of the greatest harm comes at the hands of those corporate leaders whose ethics are scandalous. People are financially ruined for life by their crooked schemes. Families are homeless because of crooked home loan practices. Students are strapped for life-long debt because of the high cost of education. Cancer patients can’t afford medication, and political parties legislate in favor of those who benefit at the expense of the powerless.

That’s who Jesus called. And not just once. Remember Zacchaeus?

But something happens when people follow Jesus. They change. Grace is like that. Grace isn’t what comes after we repent and become good people. Grace is the power that enables that change!

I say I want to follow Jesus. To whom am I extending grace? Am I offering grace only to those I consider worthy? Hopefully, I will follow in the steps of the one who closed this passage with these words: “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. ¹³ But go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice’ (Hosea 6:6) For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”

 

Whoever has seen me has seen the Father (John 14:9 NRSV)

‘And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself” (John 12:32 NRSV).

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

 

Together in the Walk,

Jim

Let's You and Him Fight

Between me and any other human there are infinitely more similarities than differences.

That’s a bold statement, especially in a culture that has become obsessed with eliminating differences—in a culture that is persuaded that differences and disagreements are bad and assumes that conformity is good (as long as I am the standard to which everyone must conform)—in a culture that does not recognize or accept the enrichment that emerges out of diversity—in a culture in which defenders of differing ideologies demonize each other.

Nevertheless, I maintain that we agree much more than we disagree—about almost everything.

We all agree that justice is better than injustice.

We all agree that good is better than evil.

We all agree that right is better than wrong.

But we don’t always agree on the definitions of justice, good and right.

Christians generally agree on the reality of God, and agree that God is the Creator of the Universe, the Redeemer of all that is broken in creation, and the Sustainer of all that is eternal. If we humans could leave it there and simply stand in awe before that reality and respond in adoration and praise and in commitment to live in harmony with the redemptive, sustaining work of God in creation, life would be as God intended life to be.

Moreover, Christians generally agree that Jesus of Nazareth completely manifested the redemptive work of God.

But (and you can pick almost any other point in Christian history as a starting point), within the first generation of Christianity somebody said, “This is specifically how God accomplished redemption through Jesus, and you must agree with my assessment or you’re wrong.” And immediately there was established the dichotomy of orthodoxy vs. heresy.

The need to identify heresy is an act of insecurity, and manifests a need to be in control of our eternal destiny. It's the fruit of the tree of which, when we eat it, we will know the difference between good and evil (Genesis 3:1-5). When we know what we have to do, then we won't have to trust some mysterious creator deity. If we obey the rules, that deity will be obligated to favor us in our eternal destiny.

Orthodoxy replaced the pure response of awe and adoration and praise and shifted the focus from the awesomeness of God to human works; and no matter how high we fly the grace flag, the message we send with our lives is "you've gotta' jump through my hoops or you're out". The focus shifted from relating to God to being right and demonizing those who don't affirm my perception of right. And we've been fighting ever since.

“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth…” (Genesis 1:1). That should have been enough. But somewhere along the way somebody decided to limit the possible ways God could have accomplished that task, and orthodoxy and heresy were created: “There’s only one way God could have done it, and you agree with me or you’re out.”

So to this day we square off and fight over “creationism” vs “intelligent design” vs “evolution”, and God gets shoved into a corner and essentially forgotten in the preoccupation with being “right.”

And in the process of eliminating disagreements, the larger arena of our agreements, upon which we could work together collaboratively to fulfill our divine calling to build a more just, good and “right” world (“…on earth as it is in heaven…”), gets lost in the shuffle. And God is neither adored nor praised—nor impressed.

"And I will show you a still more excellent way.  If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal" (I Corinthians 12:31-13:1).

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

Together in the Walk,

Jim

Trust is the Opposite of Certainty

We have seen that Jesus interpreted Scripture in the rabbinic spirit of faithful questioning motivated by love. We have noted that Jesus’ interpretation of Scripture was in direct contrast to that of the Pharisees and other religious leaders of his time, who read the Scriptures in a spirit of unquestioning obedience and were motivated by an obsession with correct doctrine. The Pharisees were concerned about who was “right” and who was “wrong,” and were determined to enforce their “right” understanding, even if such an effort required violence.

We have said that over the centuries the Church has tended not to follow the pattern of Jesus, but rather to follow the pattern of the Pharisees, striving to maintain orthodoxy and labeling those who disagree as heretics. The result has been a long history of various manifestations of the church enforcing their authority through violence or the threat of violence—all in God’s name.

The struggle to know what is “right” has replaced Grace as the foundation of faith. In far too many cases our trust is more in the correctness of our doctrine than in the Grace of God. Such an application of religious faith establishes an “us vs. them” mentality, which always leans toward an exclusionary witness and far too often is forcefully inflicted.

While the exclusionary witness establishes categories for judging who is acceptable and who is not, Jesus’ witness was to go out among the outcasts and the fringe people—to eat with them, to touch them and through loving inclusion to restore their lives to wholeness. Too often our approach has been to demand that those on the outside become “like us” before they can gain admission and acceptance. Our doctrine becomes "the way, the truth and the life."

We all read Scripture selectively, and justification can indeed be found for both approaches. They stand in direct contradiction within the Holy writ, and we choose one way or the other:

1.       The way the Pharisees chose: unquestioning obedience to what they had determined to be the “right” doctrine (Law), and enforcing that doctrine as the prerequisite of faithfulness—excluding (and sometimes punishing with violence or threat of violence) all who do not conform (including Jesus).

2.      The way Jesus chose: faithful questioning the violence in Scripture and bearing witness to unconditional love (Grace), including all humanity in a divine embrace of reconciliation and restoration. All humanity. And "All" means "All."

Our celebrated First Amendment rights which grant freedom of speech and religion actually came about in direct response to the church’s legacy of persecution and rampant bloodshed committed in the sincere (but sincerely wrong) effort to maintain purity of doctrine. As a result of those Constitutional rights, there are no more burnings at the stake today.

So, what is the greater wrong: not getting the formulation of the Trinity quite right, or slaughtering those who do get it wrong? What is the greater sin: questioning a doctrine or working to destroy people’s careers and livelihoods because they question it?

Equally important as what we profess is how we profess it and how we live what we profess. When we act in any way to harm others in the name of Scripture or faith or morality we demonstrate that we are neither scriptural, moral nor faithful. Jesus said the whole law and the prophetic writings were predicated upon love of God, love of neighbor and love of self (Matthew 22:36-40). And Paul wrote, “Love does no harm to a neighbor. Therefore love is the fulfillment of the law” (Romans 13:10) When we do not act in love, nothing we do is right, and nothing is faithful, not even according to the law.

The simple formula of the New Testament witness is “Grace Trumps Law.” It’s simple; but it’s not easy. It requires that we “let go” of our efforts to justify ourselves through adherence to “right” doctrine, and that we instead “take hold” of the Grace God offers and surrender to the power of that Grace to mold us into the likeness of Jesus. That whole process of “letting go” and “taking hold” is called “Trust.” Trust is the opposite of certainty, and certainty is a first cousin of control.

And we are a culture of control addicts. Maybe we need a 12-Step program to facilitate recovery. “Hello. My name is Jim; and I’m a controlaholic.”

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

Together in the Walk,

Jim

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

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[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.

Summary of My Lenten Pilgrimage to Date

Lent. Wandering the wasteland of apparent contradictions in Hebrew and Christian Scripture. Giving up unproductive—even counterproductive—ways of reading Scripture. Taking up the challenge of reading Scripture as Jesus did.

The unproductive ways:[1]

1. Reading to defend Scripture (as if it needed my defense!); accepting every word at face value and reading from a prospect of unquestioning obedience, with relative disregard for the people and life situations to which the text was originally addressed and the life situations within which the current reading takes place. This has brought about the necessity of rationalizing (denying) any apparent contradiction in the name of defending the Bible. 
2. Again, accepting every word at face value, but rejecting the whole on the basis of the unresolved contradictions.
3. “Cherry-Picking.” Selecting the texts that support my presuppositions and avoiding the rest.

 Jesus’ way:

1.       Reading from the prospect of faithful questioning based upon an understanding of God’s nature as Love.

2.      “The Priority of Jesus was not on defending a text or a ritual, it was on defending people—in particular defending the victims of religious violence and abuse.”[3]

The Hebrew Scriptures make no apologies for their seeming contradictions. Indeed, the conflicts are a central feature—an organizing theme—of the collection of diverse writings that comprise what we call the Old Testament.

Walter Bruegemann compares it to a courtroom with disputing testimony and counter-testimony representing diametrically opposed understandings of God’s nature. Which is it: (1) Is God a warrior/despot, jealous of his conquests and harsh in judgment upon those who stray from his pronouncements and laws, or (2) is God a creator, redeemer and sustainer whose concern is the wellbeing of the people who choose to live in relationship with him?

The courtroom reverberates with the debate[4]. The book of Job is the perfect paradigm, with Job taking the second argument above, and his friends taking the first.

Many of the Psalms and later prophetic writings side with Job; in fact, if we are really alert to the content of the prophetic writings, we cannot avoid the realization that among the most frequently listed sins of Israel is the neglect of widows and of the poor.

These debates are based upon the ancient wisdom that the good are rewarded and the evil are punished. Job, the Psalms and the prophets don’t argue against this moral paradigm; indeed, they support it, even to the point of advocating violent retribution against evil. Their contribution is in their recognition of unjust enforcement of the paradigm; that is, sometimes evil people prosper and good people suffer. Still, these Scriptural voices become the earliest advocates for justice on behalf of victims. Previously, suffering was seen as evidence that the sufferer had sinned or committed evil and thus deserved to suffer (such assumptions persist even today within some circles, e.g., the poor are lazy and should get a job. The truth is that not everybody is able to work. Period.) It is these cries of the victim that Jesus takes up in his reading of Scripture.

Jesus entered fully into the debate, clearly and articulately choosing sides. In doing so, he set the standard for any who choose to follow him. If we are to read Scripture as Jesus did, we will begin with the understanding that God’s basic nature is Love, and that the Scriptures are a witness, leading us to accept that Love, both as a gift (grace) to be received and as a gift to be given and shared.

Jesus’ new twist that brought him into direct opposition and confrontation with the Pharisees, was his abandonment of the traditional wisdom that victims suffer because of some sin or evil in their lives, and thus deserve to suffer. Jesus acknowledges the reality of “innocent” victims, and challenges the injustice of their suffering.

Of course there are lazy “welfare bums” and “welfare queens.” Of course some people have learned to manipulate the system and leech off it! I have never heard anyone deny that. Given that starting place and the dialectic of Scripture, we have two choices, and if we are to follow Jesus we will take sides: (1) we can assure that absolutely no abuse of public assistance is tolerated, even if it means cutting off funds and thereby abandoning the many (demonstrably the overwhelming majority) who are simply unable to work or obtain resources on their own, or (2) we can respond to the cries of the victim and make sure that no innocent victim suffers unjustly, even if in the process some of the undeserving find ways of manipulating the system and unjustly benefiting.

I think I know which choice Jesus would make. I think you do, too.

I hadn't anticipated that this summation of my Lenten pilgrimage would lead where it led; nevertheless, that’s the way I see it through the flawed glass that is my world view.

Together in the Walk,

Jim

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[1] Derek Flood, Disarming Scripture: Cherry-Picking Liberals, Violence-Loving Conservatives and We All Need to Learn to Read Scripture as Jesus Did (San Francisco: Metanoia Books, 2014), Kindle edition, Location 227 ff.

[2] Ibid., Location 225.

[3] Ibid., Location 424.

[4] I would add the additional metaphor of a bitterly partisan legislature, with each side intent upon inflicting and enforcing its own values upon the whole. And at the infamous bottom line, each side believes sincerely that its own set of values is the best—indeed the only valid—model for life.