Showing posts with label Martin Luther. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Martin Luther. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 10, 2023

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 .

Monday, September 23, 2019

Transformation--My Testimony


I grew up in the Southern Baptist Church during the 1940s and 50s. I cherish and honor that heritage, even though I have moved a considerable distance from it, theologically, politically (sic), and biblically. My passion for the faith and for the teachings of Jesus came from that background. I literally do not remember a time in my life that I didn’t believe and accept that “Jesus loves me, this I know; for the Bible tells me so.”
Undeniably, my dependence upon the Bible as the standard of measure (canon is the official word for that) for matters of faith and Christian living came also from that legacy.
Ironically, it also was the study of the Bible that began my shift away from my native church. I have an inquisitive mind. It’s in my DNA; but it proved a liability in my early years in the Southern Baptist Church. From my earliest memories I had questioned specific applications of Scripture; but those questions were discouraged. I was even told, “There are just some things we’re not supposed to know.”
I didn’t accept that then; and I don’t accept it today. During my last year in high school and through my undergraduate years, I frequently said, “I’m not fully a Southern Baptist; but, I’m closer to them than anybody else.” The truth was that I really didn’t know much about what anybody else believed.
It has been said, “There are no atheists in foxholes.” Well, I’ve never been close to being an atheist; nevertheless, when I was sent to Vietnam by the Unites States Marine Corp, my dependence upon my faith was at perhaps it’s highest level.
I took it upon myself to “be in the Word” as much as possible, and since I was assigned to headquarters company, headquarters battalion, 3rd Marine Division, I had time and some level of security in which to do so. I decided to begin with Paul’s epistle to the Romans: you know, where Martin Luther found such discrepancies between what he had been taught and what the Bible says.
Well, I was letting the Bible speak to me because that’s what my preachers and Sunday School teachers had told me to do; but very early I began to note that what I thought was in the Bible, really wasn’t there. I even found some things that actually were counter to what I had been taught. The more I read the Bible, the less I could reconcile everything I had learned with what I found in the Bible.
At first it was a troubling experience—even frightening. After all, I was supposed to believe what I was taught, wasn’t I—not to question God or the Bible? What I came to realize was that the real message I was taught was to not question what I was being taught about God or the Bible. There is a difference.
But, in the Epistle of Romans I discovered that my relationship with God is not dependent upon believing right doctrine. It is dependent upon my accepting Jesus’ teaching that God already loves me and wants to make my life full and complete, regardless of—sometimes in spite of—what I believe at any given moment. Faith, then, is not a set of beliefs or doctrines, but is the willingness to live as if I truly believe what I say I believe.
Indeed, those moments of anxiety began to be transformed into a sense of comfort as I began to realize I had been trusting correct doctrine instead of trusting God as the basis of my relationship with God. Out of a fear of hell I had been driven to cling to doctrine—to put my faith in it rather than in the God revealed in Jesus. That realization is both freeing and motivating. In recalling that transformative time in my life, I am reminded of John Gillespie McGee’s poem, “High Flight:”
 Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air . . .
Up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or ever eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
It was in reading the Bible that I slipped the surly bonds of my faith culture. And, time after time, it has been in reading the Bible that I have discovered new understandings of God’s unlimited, unmerited grace in contrast to the restrictive, legalistic, and exclusionary doctrines that are born out of human fear and lack of trust in that same grace.
That’s the way it looks through the Flawed Glass that is my world view.
Together in the Walk,
Jim