stones into bread

Well known within the church are Jesus' three temptations in the wilderness just prior to the start of his ministry (Matthew 4:1-11). They are devilish challenges to what type of Messiah Jesus will choose to be. Using the decisions of his faithfulness, these temptations make God the central issue . . . and whether divine authority will become secondary.

"If you are the Son of God" does not imply doubt on the part of Satan, but places the conversation in the context of challenge, simultaneously mocking and questioning Jesus in the messianic role. The first issue is to turn stones into bread in order for Jesus' to satisfy his own hunger from fasting. Jesus' response is to quote from Deuteronomy 8:3, "Man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the LORD." This clearly places the spiritual need above the physical, and sets God's will above human desires.

An interesting note to this comes from Pope Benedict XVI who writes, "The aid offered by the West to developing countries has been purely technically and materially based, and not only has left God out of the picture, but has driven men away from God" (Jesus of Nazareth, 33). This is particularly interesting given Jesus' later example of God's love, "Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone?" (Matthew 7:9).

I will not voice a blanket decry the efforts of the West (particularly the somewhat popular anti-American-involvement) that brings much needed political, physical and social need and recovery to many in the world that desire to have it. However, I will agree that the loss of true holistic (most notably spiritual) assistance is missing from much of the aid given to the world. Is this what is happening through our churches as well? Have our missions organizations and outreaches become content with throwing money and supply at various problems rather than investing in lasting and significant change?

Perhaps one way to evaluate this would be to examine local missional movements - how we are doing in transforming our local communities through the work of the church. Of course, the difficult first step here is to get congregations to recognize their missional activity as a way of life for all believers, not just something that happens in other cultures. (And to this is the tendency for individuals to act as 'model missionaries' while on short-term trips, but who then fail to make any significant impact on their homefronts. This is because is it easier to be Christ among people who don't really know you.)

If we are not taking an opportunity to spread the gospel and build the kingdom, are we sharing with the world the Bread of Life that Jesus self-identified as? Pope Benedict XVI continues with this as well, "The idea was that we could turn stones into bread; instead, our 'aid' has only given stones in place of bread. The issue is the primacy of God" (Ibid., emphasis mine).

So it would appear that we can give people the methods to live, but simultaneously we strip our message of any reason why people would want to live. Our churches can be architecturally appealing, they can enhance property and neighborhood values, they can open up their playgrounds as parks, and even have a pastor who is well-known and liked. But all of this community-connection fails without an active missional movement which seeks to transform lives, families and communities.

I am not advocating a return to church-community-relations that is defined by the church's Bible-beating of its community's sins. Neither am I interested in that relationship becoming so heavenly minded that it is of no earthly good. That is the point exactly. There needs to be a proper balance of the two, so that the active mission of the church is not stripped in the name of good barbecues but is found embedded in such activities for the true Bread of Life to come and feed those who are hungering most.

review: tom wright for everyone

Stephen Kuhrt. Tom Wright for Everyone. London: SPCK, 2011. 9780281063932.

Tom Wright (known also as The Bishop) is undoubtedly one of the most influential theological voices in the world today. One of the distinguishing marks of his scholarship is that he is able to engage it both in the realm of higher academia as well as accessible lay theology. His writing accomplishes this quite naturally, thus providing a rather large base for those who are intrigued by his perspective.

Although the impact of Wright's theology is widespread and has changed the perspective of many, the stark reality of the typical evangelical church is that we don't know what to do with such seismic shifts in our theology. That is to say, we like what we have heard Wright say but we, by and large, don't know what is next. Maybe the book will emerge, After You Believe Tom Wright, or perhaps this is the first step in making that journey.

Stephen Kuhrt is Vicar of Christ Church, New Malden, UK. He writes this particular volume as an introduction and overview of how his congregation has implemented Tom Wright's theology into practice as a community. As a primer, it is a good 'first steps' to connecting theology to practice around Wright's perspective.

The first three chapters of the book serve as an introduction to Tom Wright and his theology. Chapter One introduces the reader to his career and emergence as an internationally renowned scholar. Chapter Two begins to connect a wide range of readership to Wright's theology, mostly by surveying the current landscape of evangelicalism and the "Theological questions awaiting an answer . . ." Kuhrt includes here the questions surrounding resurrection (and its implications), the atonement, the mission of the church, etc. This chapter serves as a bridge from the state of the church to the theology of Wright. Then, Chapter Three provides the reader with an overview of Tom Wright's theology. Perhaps for those yet familiar with The Bishop's writings this will serve as an invaluable introduction to the sometimes-daunting work of understanding Wright's theology.

The next three chapters begin to place Wright's theology into the practice of the local church, rounded out with examples of the ministry happening through Christ Church, New Malden. Chapter Four is "Tom Wright's Theology in a Pastoral Context," and focuses mostly on the impact of the resurrection within the work of the clergy. The central idea here is the aspect of funerals which often give the most challenging opportunity to setting resurrection theology in its proper perspective.

Chapter Five then moves to a missional context in which Kuhrt follows up on Wright's theology of a new heavens and a new earth becoming a present reality, not simply an end-times salvation destination. To move this into the local parish requires structural change as well, ultimately resulting in a fuller practice. "The preaching of 'new heavens, new earth' as the Christian hope, and going on to explain its practical implications for Christian mission, has resulted in a more holistic approach to mission, achieving a far greater degree of both confidence and clarity" (75). Kuhrt explains that such an approach will require a much greater degree of humility within the church (81) if it is to be about the business of God's kingdom-building.

Chapter Six speaks of the 'Church Life' theology that emerges from Wright's perspective. Kuhrt explains, "Like many evangelical churches, Christ Church has had a tendency throughout its history to be a 'gathered' congregation, with its major emphasis on teaching 'the faithful' (83). This perspective begins to shift when the kingdom is seen as presently inclusive rather than a removed future. Readings of Paul's literature in particular have challenged this congregation with such issues as the inclusion of outsiders, the edification of the community, the development of Christian character, the use of gifts and talents, the full ministry of women, and others. Many of the conclusions rest upon, "But the principle of constantly seeking to be reformed by Scripture has remained our conviction, and the church as a whole has been pushed on in this agenda and received immense blessings as a result" (101).

The final chapter then works as a conclusion and challenge for churches to continue to find ways in which Tom Wright's theology can be pragmatically implemented in local ministry. One of the questions Kuhrt leaves with the reader is, ". . . what fresh insights from the Bible have really changed our evangelical tradition in the last ten years?" (103). Tom Wright has proven himself to be a significant voice within both academia and the church. His scholarship cannot be ignored and the practical implications of his perspective will clearly enhance the mission of the church.

Let me finish by saying that neither this book or this blog are interested in making the mission fo the church about Tom Wright. Kuhrt's work does not read that way; he keeps a clear focus on the Scripture and Spirit in the kingdom-building life of the church. Why does the world need a volume like this? Because Tom Wright is an extensively present significant voice in the life of the church which needs to be heard, understood and considered in our praxis.

climbing sycamores

Luke 19 contains the famous story of Zacchaeus, who was evidently a wee-little-man. (Or so I have been told.) In fact, this passage might have become infamous in that it potentially contains theology that might possibly terrify those who have so diligently preserved it in Sunday school song. There is a question that begins to unravel what we thought we knew about Zacchaeus himself, and which begins to encroach on other areas of evangelism that we would prefer just stay as they are. Rather than being a passage that summons seekers to kneel at the altar with deacon Bob and say the sinner's prayer, here is a challenge to our modern evangelicalism.

The question: Does Zacchaeus repent?

Yes! No? Yes. No. Yes? No! What are we digging at? In the passage itself there is no indication that Zacchaeus meets the 'standards' of 'typical' conversion, which is more than simple historical gloss. If the scene were written with the purpose of showing a commitment to Jesus, and it is, then it would be rather odd to omit the actual conversion. Unless it is not omitted.

One detail this is often remembered about the Zacchaeus story is that he chose to give half of his possessions to the poor, along with four times the amount that he has cheated. What we have assumed is that this is the outcome of his conversion experience. What Luke is trying to show us is that this is the conversion experience. Throughout the Gospel there is a connection between those whose faith is serious and their willingness to give away their resources.

I once heard Craig Blomberg ask of this passage, "Does Zacchaeus repent? Or does Zacchaeus enter the kingdom?" The emphasis shifts away from the reception of personal religious experience to the stewardship and giving of one's self for the gospel. So the reasons why we learned this song as children don't quite hold up the same way, for we placed it in an evangelical context of inward salvation. Jesus is not willing to be confined to such a context, for his heart is so greatly driven to seek and save those who are lost that he will go wherever is necessary to bring the kingdom in all its fullness.

All of this happens with the circulating criticisms of those who can only judge the external. This is the way gospel comes into the world, with all of the whispers and grumblings designed to intimidate and embarrass. None of this external concerns Jesus when he is engaged with matters of the heart. That other stuff will have to wait until later.

Are we interested in building churches or working for the kingdom? How do we respond and welcome those who are on the fringes of the Christian faith? Is our salvation secure enough to allow God to work in ways that we previously could not imagine? Are we willing to allow the Spirit to go beyond ourselves and allow salvation to come to those in ways that are not 'evangelical' (or even 'Christian'), but which make children of Abraham?

Endnote: In a world where our most vigorous discussion swirls around trying to determine who God is going to let into heaven - and when and where and how - is it not sadly interesting that when we see a clear example of salvation (from the agent of salvation) we aren't certain how it fits into our worldview? But then again, as Rich said, We are not as strong as we think we are . . .

this echo

Thomas Merton writes:

"Contemplation is also the response to a call: a call from Him Who has no voice, and yet Who speaks in everything that is, and Who, most of all, speaks in the depths of our own being: for we ourselves are words of His. But we are words that are meant to respond to Him, to answer to Him, to echo Him, and even in some way to contain Him and signify Him. Contemplation is this echo."

It is no secret that our lives are generally ruled by the tyranny of activity. This has long infiltrated the church, where programs and events have replaced personal development and discipleship. Part of the missional movement (and emerging movements) within evangelicalism is an awakening to the need for a deeper spiritual experience among believers. We need to recover the spiritual dimension of our lives and reach for the depths of divine mystery.

I have discovered that we all, at some point in our lives, become empty. This is one of the inevitable points of the human journey. The circumstances of life will drain us of everything - our strength, our will, our peace - and we must make the choice to move forward or drift away. Christ has also offered us an emptying, though it is often overlooked by our present church culture. He has summoned us to a path which begins with a kenosis, the most difficult thing in the world.

In order to reach out and grasp the Creator we must open our hands and let go of whatever it is we hold tightly. This is counterintuitive to the human condition, and to a culture which has (effectively) convinced us that the way forward is gaining, not losing. Even when we have lost it seems that we are told to gather together - why so many people and governments believe the accumulation of stuff erases the effects of debt.

I have now been summoned to this path in a way which I never before conceived. The promise that has been given is that it will be difficult and painful, that there will be much required of me that many others will not be willing to accomplish . . . or follow. It is not a journey of personal pride or accomplishment. In fact, it is the opposite - it is a kenosis. And this echo will be the renewed creating voice of God speaking once again to reconciliation and renewal. What is clear is that when we are part of the kingdom it is not our life that makes a difference in the world, it is Christ now living in us. To that end, it is not our voice that is heard but an echo of the voice of God now speaking to his own . . . even when his own does not receive him.

And thus our lives are echoes back to him and reverberations to others.

"We ourselves become His echo and His answer. It is as if in creating us God asked a question, and in awakening us to contemplation He answered the question, so that the contemplative is at the same time, question and answer."

both quotes Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation, 3.

the great divorce 3

5.

"You went there because you are an apostate."

This comes from an exchange that the narrator witnesses between another of the ghostly people (such as himself) and a solid person. The prancing around of two solidly lions before him in the grass was a bit disconcerting, so he moved on and stumbled across this dialogue. Again, the two in conversation knew each other well on earth and now continue some of their debating in the afterlife.

There is a rather large amount of denial on the part of the ghost about the current state of existence, demonstrated by his condescending statements regarding a literal Heaven or Hell. When pushed on this initially, he explains that his life is quest to find the Kingdom . . . though it appears to be carried out in a rather backwards view of things. He does not see grey town as a place within twilight, but rather with the continual hope of morning - Heaven, for those with eyes to see it. That is the description he gives to it from within. How is it seen from the solid place?

"We call it Hell."

At this the ghost is taken back by the "profane" nature of such a description. Here, Lewis' narrative - through the ensuing discussion - begins to highlight the failure of relativistic-postmodernism to adequately handle truth. Suggestions of moral right and wrong so often are charged as being profane, insensitive and rude. This, as is demonstrated in the current dialogue, is little more than a means of deflection so that the individual can work from their own ethical standards.

The ghost states, "Buy my dear boy, I believe already. We may not be perfectly agreed, but you have completely misjudged me if you do not realise that my religion is a very real and very precious thing to me." Interestingly, this seems to be acceptable enough for the solid person, who then invites the ghost to make the journey further in so that his confession might have action. The ghost agrees, so long as he can find 1) a wider sphere of influence, 2) a scope for his talents, and 3) an atmosphere of inquiry.

Here is where the religion breaks apart, for it is one that originates from within the individual and seeks nothing more than to edify the individual from within. He is told that none of these things exist for him, because 1) you are not needed there at all, 2) there is only forgiveness for having perverted your God-given talents, and 3) this is the land of answers, not questions. It is a summons to a life defined outside of ourselves rather than the self-centered religiousity of the postmodern mind.

In an attempt to persuade the ghost to accept this reality and embrace the journey to its fulfillment, the solid person offers, "We know nothing of religion here: we think only of Christ."

This reminds the ghost that he is scheduled to give a paper to a "theological society" back in grey town, and that he should not leave for the solid land. He is interested in many inquiries, and has come to the place where he believes he is doing good by assisting the other grey town inhabitants in their quests. All said and done, he has appreciated the discussion that has taken place, and walks away stimulated and thinking to his own intellectual inquiry, "What a different Christianity we might have had if only the Founder had reached his full stature!"

This is a great example of the misunderstandings of our current philosophies - either serious or popular-level - have done to the message of faith. The proper response to theological study and inquiry is belief, though this road is often much more complex than that simple rendering. Lewis was right to make the point that much of our theological debating is concerned with only the debate and not discovering the truth of what we seek . . . or, at least not accepting the truth when we find it.

Novel theologies abound when we think that everything should be questioned and deconstructed. But novel theologies are often shallow and cheap on the one hand, disruptive and damaging on the other. For when we trade opportunities to explore and edify truth so that we might sound clever enough to write many books and give many speeches, we pervert the work of the kingdom that has been entrusted to its followers.

Yes, this same conclusion is included in the discussion of Chapter 5, when the solid person challenges the ghost on his earthly life of constant inquiry, "What risk? What was at all likely to come of it except what actually came - popularity, sales for your books, invitations, and finally a bishopric?"

thirty-three

Most people haven't realized that Jeremiah is the longest book in the Bible. Mostly we think it is Psalms, because there are 150 of them. One of the difficult realities for the modern reader is that we hear how long Jeremiah is, and it simply adds to our dread of actually having to read it. Let's be honest about it, this is a difficult book by a prophet who was forced to deliver an unpopular and difficult message. He was in the minority and was thus persecuted for the things he said, because he had to speak to God's people in a difficult time of unbelief and disobedience.

There are moments in Jeremiah where the light breaks in and we can see that God still delivers a promise filled with hope of a coming restoration for his people and his creation. "While Jeremiah was still confined in the courtyard of the guard . . ." a promise of restoration was given to him - light shining into the darkness, a spiritual gift for the prophet and the kingdom (Jeremiah 33).

The passage recognizes the failure of God's people, but still beckons them to return to him. "Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know" (33:3). Death and destruction are still to come into the experience of this people, for the times are dark and the situation is dire. "Nevertheless . . ." says YHWH, God of Israel, ". . . I will bring health and healing to it; I will heal my people and will let them enjoy abundant peace and security. I will bring Judah and Israel back from captivity and will rebuild them as they were before . . ."

I can't imagine Jeremiah being excited to be held in captivity, nor do I think it is appropriate to envision him with a hyper-spirituality which leaves him without a dark cloud for his present reality. But the hope of renewal and restoration which comes from God himself - the Creator of the heavens and earth - holds the power to cut through the despair and shine a bright light into the present darkness.

As I reflect on my own thirty-three I see that the powerful message of Jeremiah still rings through. Brueggemann referred to the phenomenon as "texts that linger, words that explode." This explodes into my reality today. For there is a constant bombardment of hopelessness, despair and loss that continues to pour into my life. There is no shortage of discouragement and heartache. And I remain in the place of my life where perhaps it feels as though I too am still confined in the courtyard of the guard.

But this is not how the one who created us and loves us most speaks to us. He never tells us it's not worth it, or that it doesn't matter anyway. He never has spoken into my heart to tell me I'd be better off quitting, giving up, or dead. The enemy speaks to us that way, while YHWH, God of Israel, issues a cosmic-shaking "Nevertheless! . . ."

What he told Jeremiah he whispers into my heart on this day of thirty-three, "You say about this place, 'It is a desolate waste, without people or animals.' Yet in the towns of Judah and in the streets of Jerusalem that are deserted, inhabited by neither people nor animals, there will be heard once more the sounds of joy and gladness, the voices of bride and bridegroom, and the voices of those who bring thank offerings to the house of YHWH, saying, 'Give thanks to YHWH Almighty, for YHWH is good; his love endures forever.' For I will restore the fortunes of the land as they were before" (33:10-11).

There follows for Jeremiah a messianic promise - the fulfillment of the promise of restoration that is to come. I live on the opposite side of the messianic reality and experience so much of the faith he only envisaged. But the need to discover the fulfillment of genuine hope and live-giving love is for us both. The enemy and the world seek to define us by the courtyards in which we are presently confined, working desperately to keep us from the freedom-giving words of the promise of hope and restoration.

Thirty-three. What once sounded a bit old now is quite young. Life never seems to go the you imagined it . . . forget about planning it. But somewhere for all of us the common story comes around and we discover we are a part of it just the same. And today mine is the words of Jeremiah . . . and the promise of God.

review: the pastor

Eugene H. Peterson, The Pastor: A Memoir (New York: HarperOne, 2011).

"I had only the vaguest of ideas of why I was there and certainly nothing that I would recognize as a pastoral vocation. I didn't know it at the time, but what I absorbed in my subconscious, which eventually surfaced years later, was a developing conviction that the most effective strategy for change, for revolution - at least on the large scale that the kingdom of God involves - comes form a minority working from the margins" (16).

This description, early on in the book, speaks to Eugene Peterson's life experience while a young man in a New York seminary. As far as pastors go, this isn't quite the vocational focus and drive that describes many of those in-training. But that captures the ethos of Peterson's journey, as he discovered - step by step - that his vocation was pastor.

Memoirs are interesting so far as they convey a rather intriguing life by someone of note, or they contain the wise reflections of someone whose life is similar to your own. Eugene Peterson has indeed lived an interesting life worth reading about (he begins his story as a child and speaks to his lifelong development and spiritual journey from there), but also he has a particular insight given to the pastoral calling that comes from years worth of work, adaptation, seeking-counsel, and facing head-on the challenges of church leadership. As a pastor who is also learning to grapple with all of these layers of life and leadership, I commend this read to all church leaders, both clergy and laity, for godly guidance.

One of the defining (and desired) marks of Peterson's perspective of the pastoral vocation is that it seeks to strike the appropriate balance of in-and-not-of that the Christian life demands. He does not get lost in overly spiritualized cliches of religious dogmatism, keeping such a holy view of pastoring that it has no tangible earthy significance. But neither does he present church leadership as something that is to absorb culture so as to lose its own otherness, instead holding to the demands of Christ that followers be distinct from the world. One particular passage illustrates this:

"I am quite sure now that the way I as a pastor came to understand congregation had its beginnings in the 'congregational' atmosphere of our butcher shop. Congregation is composed of people, who, upon entering a church, leave behind what people on the street name or call them. A church can never be reduced to a place where goods and services are exchanged. It must never be a place wehre a person is labeled. It can never be a place where gossip is perpetuated. Before anything else, it is a place wehre a person is named and greeted, whether implicitly or explicitly, in Jesus's name. A place where dignity is conferred. I first learned that under my father's priesthood in his butcher shop" (40).

In the end, he found that the most important work was in the mess of ministry. This helped define his "long obedience in the same direction" which gave context to his vocation. Perhaps it is out-of-line to say something like this about a person's own memoirs, but if one reads through only for the purpose of being able to read Chapter 35 in its proper context then you will discover an incredible set of lessons on what it means to live with the pastoral calling. That chapter alone is worth the purchase and reading of the entire work.

A great summary of what the book seeks to convey comes from a student of Peterson's, Irene:

"I don't want to be so impatient with the mess that I am not around to see the miracle being formed. I don't want to conceive of my life as pastor so functionally that the mystery gets squeezed out of both me and the congregation" (285).

a more profound essenism

It has become commonplace within the world of biblical studies to equate Qumran with the Essene movement as a whole. While there are some deep connections between the two, the oversimplification with which they have been treated is misleading our understanding of the diversity of Second Temple Judaism. We have not adequately understood Essenism as it existed in ancient Judaism.

One of the best books to help uncover this, and point us in a better direction, is Gabriel Boccaccini's Beyond the Essene Hypothesis (Eerdmans, 1998). And because a consensus for Second Temple Judaism is still being sought, the need to reexamine the data is high. This examination is especially needed by those in the world of biblical studies who have had little exposure to the wider Second Temple literature. Yes, it is a daunting scope of writing, but it is the fuller context of the world of the Jesus movement - we need context to understand history.

So, what's the deal with Essenism?

First, Josephus tells us that they were not confined to one particular city but rather had a presence throughout Israel (Jewish War 2.124). And while we may consider the sectarian community at Qumran a part of the Essene movement, we must confess that it is a matter of historical record that they were much more than the desert-dwellers. There are some competing theories to the nature of the division between Qumran and the larger Essene tradition, but for now we will leave it as a subdivision of the same overall movement.

Boccaccini's text demonstrates a plausible history based upon the available texts that shows an Enochic tradition which later develops into Essenism, which then includes a break of the Qumran community. But Essenism continues on even with Qumran to the side.

Second, scholars increasingly express the popularity of the texts associated with the Enochic-Essene tradition, especially the five-fold work of 1 Enoch. Many of these texts are present in the wider expressions of Essenism - even though some may be seen as sectarian and kept within Qumran. With such a widely popular group of writings that were not confined to a desert community but present throughout all Israel, we should not think for a moment that Jesus and his early followers were not influenced by them. The questions for us are How and How Far.

Boccaccini's work helps give a sense of these texts and leads to some interesting thoughts about the emerging Jesus movement. And he just might be on to something here. Though I don't include it in specific quite yet, some of the teachings in the Enochic-Essene tradition are surprisingly similar to things we find in the early church and gospel.

There is a lot of attention given to the Hellenistic influences upon the early church. Much of this is good research and insightful study. But we must also consider the context of Second Temple Judaism, which helped define life for ancient Israel and continued for about forty of the first years of the church. Hence, we must be more diligent in reading the Second Temple Jewish literature, remaining open-minded enough to shift our understanding of how what we read in the Gospels are influenced by such a context.

more culture than christian

I think the ongoing (perhaps eternal) struggle with evangelicalism is that it is trying desperately to find itself somewhere between culture and christian. We self-define this endeavor in the context of in-but-not-of, though the discussion seldom reaches serious scriptural examination. When individuals cannot adequately locate themselves on the spectrum of Christlike behavior in a fallen world, then a community of individuals isn't going to look any better. Hence, we have churches that are more culture than christian while the kingdom goes drifting by.

It is somewhat like the parable of the two sons who were called to work in the vineyard (Matthew 21:28-32). The church is full of people who initially responded appropriately to the summons to go and work on behalf of the master, but in the end did not. Of course we have all seen this and know it to be true, but our focus should turn to that transition - the moment when acceptance turned into rejection. For some, it is simply a lack of genuine commitment. For others it was a certain 'yes' that drifted away at some other point.

This drifting away can be pulled apart and examined in many different ways, but one epidemic that is sweeping through our congregations - via the hearts and minds and souls of individual believers - is a stronger affiliation with culture than with Christ. It is a failure to become disciples of Jesus rather than churchgoers or christians (by socio-identification). Being a disciple demands spiritual growth and the transformation of one's identification. Christians-in-name-only do not reflect this because they still operate from a cultural ethic rather than a Jesus ethic.

Hence, we have churches filled with people who hold grudges rather than show forgiveness. We have self-proclaiming believers who handle conflict by separation rather than embrace. Too many churchgoers seek to hold the community of faith hostage by threatening to remove their presence . . . and cash. And, as I have witnessed from close-up, entire churches which operate on this principle do not flinch over the opportunity to act illegally in order to prop themselves up over and against another church and its programs.

Which part of our faith is any longer being lived out in fear and trembling?

Those who conform to this world forsake the grace of God insomuch as they live as though their salvation is certain and that they are not like other people. Those who are more culture than christian have no need to look toward heaven and cry, "God have mercy on me, a sinner." And though their hypocritical lives - mouths speaking of mercy and hearts burning of vengeance - might gather around the 'winners' of the world into large groups, they also allow the genuine life of faith to slip through their fingers like sand . . . and miss the kingdom of God.

Christ came to initiate a radical transformation within the hearts and lives of the people of God. The notion of radical transformation means the complete surrendering of who we are to the image of Christ for the sake of others. To follow Jesus demands that we first must follow Paul, who became a slave (one without rights or self-governance) to the Messiah and his new life springing into the world. Without this we simply replicate our own fallenness and multiply the damning of our selves.

But if we could catch for one eternal moment the fire he came to light . . .

the great divorce 2

4.

"I do not look at myself."

This statement is made by Len, spoken to his earthly friend 'the Big Ghost' in Chapter Four. It should be read as an echo of 1 Corinthians 4:3, for it speaks to embracing grace and laying down pride. By all human standards of right and wrong - virtue and vice - we are incapable of goodness and must therefore discover another standard.

This is what the Big Ghost finds quite difficult, of course, in that he continues to push on for his own so-called rights (based upon his own self-righteous views of morality). He is implored by Len to "stop thinking about it" and embrace this new reality. What is the stumbling block? Len is a murderer, and the Big Ghost knows that he has taken Jack's life. What the Big Ghost is unwilling to accept is that both Len and Jack are waiting for him to join them in the new real world.

Truth and morality come under fire here, for when the context is explained to the Big Ghost - in that he was not in fact a decent man, along with the failed morality of all humanity - the Big Ghost refuses to let go of pride and instead fights for his own sense of ethic. Interestingly, Len further confesses, "Murdering old Jack wasn't the worst that I did. That was the work of a moment and I was half mad when I did it. But I murdered you in my heart, deliberately, for years. I used to lie awake at nights thinking what I'd do to you if ever I got the chance . . ."

Matthew 5:21-22 should come to our minds here, even though a great number of Christians who have brought no deliberate physical harm on another person are guilty of the same kind of murder that Len refers to in his confession. So often we think that what is physical is real, diminishing the spiritual realities which surround us. Perhaps this is why we overemphasize the physical sufferings of Christ and do not adequately understand why he so desired for this cup to be taken from him. The context of this story is a spiritual existence so real that the fallen physical world cannot intrude on it, until it embraces it.

In the end Len confirms to the Big Ghost, "There are no private affairs." Just like the lamp on a stand (Luke 8:17) judgment comes publicly and swiftly. Further, Lewis builds on the tradition (largely lost in Western Christianity) that the work of the church and kingdom is a community affair, and our faith is worked out together.

Having spoken his piece to the Big Ghost, Len joyfully invites him to travel along to the mountains - a happy invite to the world which now awaits. But the Big Ghost still cannot let go of himself and his pride. He is still unable to see the spiritual reality masked behind the fallen physical world in which he lives. And that will be one of the greatest challenges to each character - and to the reader/thinker/theologian - to remove the veil of this reality for the sake of embracing a higher truth.

too safe

Freedom entails risk. This is the starting point of a good amount of theology, for it sets the context of the divine-human relationship. The human heart yearns to be free, and will embrace any risk to attain it.

Interestingly, I recently read an article about a scientific study regarding playgrounds. The research presented seems to indicate a rather fascinating phenomenon: playgrounds that are too safe may stunt emotional development in the individual. "Children need to encounter risks and overcome fears on the playground," according to Norwegian psychologist Ellen Sandseter. The article goes on to cite six categories of risky play: "exploring heights, experiencing high speed, handling dangerous tools, being near dangerous elements (like water or fire), rough-and-tumble play (like wrestling), and wandering alone away from adult supervision."

Children learn to navigate risks at a progressive rate - climbing higher and higher over time - as proper development of life. And the more we learn about life, the more we learn about life. Examining creation reveals the Creator. Here we learn that the proper development of a free creature means encountering (and overcoming) risk. So why is one of our most sought-after desires in life to be safe?

Remember what Mr. Beaver taught us about Aslan: "Safe? . . . don't you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."

Here's what psychologists are saying about the undeveloped experiences with risk in children: "Paradoxically, we posit that our fear of children being harmed by mostly harmless injuries may result in more fearful children and increased levels of psychopathology." In a very real sense, our fear of short-term physical cuts and bruises damages much more than that by making long-term damage of psychological, emotional and spiritual selfs. The context in which the human was placed - to serve, to learn, to grow, to govern - is a world of risk and danger. Some of this is too much - physical and otherwise - and so we must be safeguarded from certain hazards. But the rest is known as life, and we continually search to be free and to discover that life more abundant that we have tasted and follow as a promise.

Thus we are filled with a sense wonder for what is out there. We want to explore, to discover purpose, to fulfill destiny. This is not because we have been conditioned by any particular configuration of playgrounds, but more so that we have been created with that drive in our core. This desire will ultimately play out differently for each of us, but stems from the same spark of creativity which the Giver has placed within the human heart. And it explains why mom used to say, "You'll never know unless you try."