is it the difference or the opinion?

On the topic of how one follower of Christ relates to another: How do we see ourselves?  I had one of those conversations this week where the issue of theological differences came to the forefront of discussion.  How could two believers, within the whole split of Calvin-Arminius (of course), work together for the work of the kingdom of God?  Specifically, how could two differing systematic theologies work together in an educational environment - teaching the young-minds-full-of-mush students the basics of the faith?

I wonder when we look at each other, as committed believers of Christ who are tenacious for truth and led by the Spirit, if we see the differences or the opinions.  Here is the distinction between the two, as I see it.

The Opinion.
Pretty much everything that we think, say or do in approaching the written Word of God or in trying to live the ethics of the kingdom.  In other words, these are the presuppositions that we drag to the text - our own systematization of theological thought.  Since no two humans are identical beings, there will always be opinions that are unique.  This is not to claim moral relativism, for those with differing opinions (we like to say 'interpretations' when we speak ecclesiastically) can have their distinctions while still holding to absolute truth and biblical revelation.  We witness such whenever we (in a broad sense of the word) talk about predestination and the first chapter of Ephesians, for example.  We can claim that God's choice to bring salvation is an act of grace, but how it is accomplished, well . . .

The Difference.
Allow me preface this by saying that I believe theological inquiry, discussion and debate is not only beneficial, but that it is necessary in allowing iron to sharpen iron and keep our theology relevant and sharp.  What I have witnessed for the majority of my life, however, is that we are quick to define each other in the systematic labels we have in front of us.  Thus, those who are Reformed are seldom given a chance to be in one accord with the Open Theists.  And (though the very rigid determinists might still claim a disagreement here) I have come to believe that this is a choice in how we act as Christians!  If you are into free will and all that, then you will go along with this; if you are more of the predetermined folk then perhaps you can find whatever road necessary to see that when Jesus taught his followers to be identifiable by their love for one another, this type of self-division was not what he had in mind.

Again, do we see the difference or the opinion in one another?  Those who see the opinion will find great joy in the shared story of the gospel they have with another believer, and will realize that all of our failures to see eye-to-eye with the truth of ourselves and the truth of God is a reality of a cracked humanity.  The good news is that such brokenness is being over come in the kingdom which is moving into the world through this community of faith.  The caveat is that we must make sure that we do not attempt to bring the truth of God's kingdom by using self-centered actions of the fallenness.  This has been too often the case.

When I was a young theologian I fell in love with philosophy and systematic theology.  I relished the debates and the queries and the cat-and-mouse of knowing more than those who were around you.  Systematic theology too often provides a place for smugness and arrogance, and there is no room for those in the kingdom of God.  Instead of outdoing one another through seminary training, what would have come if we edified each other as believers and fellow workers in ministry?  (I myself began this discovery after a year of seminary, and found it quite difficult to get such an atmosphere created as I went along . . . sadly.)  Now I firmly believe that no system of theology has the complete picture of God - neither Reformed, Orthodox, Calvinist, Arminian, Druid, Jedi or Open Theism.  God is more than that, and we have a mystery at the center of our faith - that we can know him most intimately at the same moment we feel we have no idea what we are dealing with.  He confounds us and our wisdom.

So I am done seeing the differences, and will regard all brothers and sisters in the faith as those to whom I am called to sharpen, support and equip for good works in the Father's kingdom.  There is no room for division, I have seen the rotten fruit of those vines.  I commit myself to fostering an environment of Christ's love and acceptance - even of the philosophically ignorant and systematically stupid, for I too am one of them when faced with his holiness.  Saying this, I confess that I already anticipate situations where this will not be possible because of others who will not allow it.  Yes, Jesus prepared us to be ready to shake the dust off and move on . . . and get to work once again.

carded and discarded

I'm getting tired of trying to process the notion that God wants to use us. It's as though we are envisioning our lives as something that are valuable only to the point that we have accomplished some piece of God's will, and then we are discarded so that the next part of God's will can happen. So, I think that it simultaneously gives us too high a view of our own significance, and too low a view of the amount of love God has for each of us.

Rich Mullins once said, ". . . and eventually we'll all be dead, and it will probably matter very little any of us actually lived - except to God who made us."

The notion that we 'do ministry' is a way of segmenting our lives so that we can be a disciple at certain points, but not completely. If our entire existence matters mostly (at some point only) to God, then we must pause to ask what he wants from us. And if he made us who we are, then the way to bring him pleasure and glory, as well as discover the fulfillment of all of the passion he has put within us, is to become who we truly are.

It appears that much of church is defined with one of two extremes on this. We either make the experience of discipleship so 'non-threatening' that it matters very little if we follow Jesus or not, or else we make it so that discipleship is framed as a complete break with any personal distinction of the individual at all. There seems to be a life more abundant that is found between these two poles, where passion and purpose are discovered around the uniqueness of the person.

N. T. Wright said of the transformation of character, "This revolutionary vision of virtue thus enables us to shift attention quite drastically away from the idea that Christian behavior in the world is basically about 'good works' in the sense of good moral living, keeping the rules, and so on, and toward the idea that Christian behavior is basically about 'good works' in the sense of doing things which bring God's wisdom and glory to birth in our world. (After You Believe, 71, emphasis in original).

Now that I have set up that context, let me say that I do in fact think that God does use our lives to bring about his purposes and advance his kingdom in the world. My point here is simply that we become too focused on that narrow understanding of things, assuming that we are not spiritually successful aside from some specific accomplishments in our lives. But I happen to believe that God loves us more than our dos and don'ts - much more than we love ourselves. And he is looking for a people who will live as he made them, on the higher plane of his kingdom.

I think that is why he set eternity in the human heart (Ecc. 3:11), bestows his Spirit so that we might see visions and dream dreams (Joel 2:28), and shows us himself that we might be filled with laughter (Ps. 126:2).

I think that Scot McKnight has it here as well, "Forget 'church' and forget 'Sunday morning service' and forget 'Christians' and forget church history's major mistakes, and for right now just connect these terms: Jesus and dream and your One.Life" (One.Life, 22, emphasis in original).

Thus, it is about being who we are in the place that we are . . . all to the glory of God and the renewal of heaven and earth. And then to follow the desires of our hearts, he begins to strip away our phony image of ourselves and gives us a life more abundant. ". . . and if God wants you to go to Egypt, he will provide eleven jealous brothers and they will sell you into slavery" (Rich).

glory and the character of god

Often you hear about how someone's wrestling thoughts about God as posted on a blog landed them in serious trouble. This might end up being one of those posts. Yet, nevertheless, I am going to continue typing and see where this thing goes.

It began at a discussion on Roger Olson's blog regarding comments made by John Piper. We're only talking about John Piper because he decided to act judgmentally against Rob Bell, who has different (and popular) views on salvation than does Piper. And sometimes going against John Piper - and/or the Reformed tradition - is heresy enough.

There is a statement made in a YouTube video by Piper which makes the claim that God allows Satan to live and evil to occur because his glory can shine more brightly in the presence of darkness than in its absence. I have seen this theological logic before and I think it is wrong. As a first year seminary student I remember hearing someone say that God ordained the Fall so that we might understand better his character and glory, through grace and mercy and salvation. I wondered why God would need a fallen state to reveal to us what a perfect moral state could not . . . I wondered why God needed evil . . . I wondered why God needed.

So, logically this breaks down. But what about the moral character of God that is on the table here. It appears to me that we are creating more of an schizo Dei than approaching the imago Dei when we try to rationalize evil as part of divine necessity. Does God actually need evil to reveal his glory? I don't think so.

Further, if God did in fact need present darkness in order to more brightly shine his light, would he so callously be responsible for human suffering for the sake of his own ego?

Look, we talk about and peddle the love of God and then we say that God has us suffer because he needs to be glorified more. These appear to be contrary sentiments on a moral scale, for it seems to say that God needs to hurt us in order to show how much he loves us. If this is true then perhaps we are institutionalizing some of the godliest people in our culture.

Theologically, this is a question of determinism. Morally, this is a question of looking at a God that I can love.

John Sanders once wrote, "This is borne out in the biblical materials. God, because he cares, is repeatedly hurt, angered and saddened by sinful human actions" (The God Who Risks, 172, emphasis mine). There are many responses to the reasons for God to reveal, glorify and establish himself above all others. But do those sentiments hold up when it comes at the cost of his own creation? . . . a creation that Scripture repeatedly says he cares so much about?

There are many pages in the Bible that become problematic because of these wires getting crossed in our concept of God. Think about the genocide that happened during Israel's conquest, for example. Is that God's glory at the expense of lives and families? I don't know if I can find an answer which I am willing to accept just yet.

As I anticipate some responses to this line of thought, let me say that the discussion here is not revolving around human sinfulness and consequence. We are talking about God's character (at least John Piper was initially speaking of it). This is about God's supposed willingness to allow suffering and death so that he might be glorified more . . . because he needs a fallen state to reveal himself whereas an un-fallen state would not do.

Is God willing to run over humanity for the sake of his own glory?

Before we jump into a misguided-quotation-driven rehearsal of 'his ways are not our ways' let us remember that we are speaking about holiness and goodness. Ultimately, can we trust this God in what he says?

If God is using suffering to bring about his glory, then are we stuck in a theistic caste system? Wouldn't any attempt to heal potentially interrupt the work of God? Let's look at this:

1. God ordains a sickness in a person.

2. God desires for the person to be healed.

3. God will obtain greater glory through the healing.

4. Can God obtain even greater glory if the sickness becomes more severe?

5. Are we potentially undoing God's glory if we heal prematurely?

6. Did Jesus lessen the glory of God by healing?

7. Is God more glorified in raising Lazarus than in healing a woman with hemorrhage?

8. Does God grant healing out of his love for us or from his desire for self-glory?

I don't think that this definition of glory allows it to be compatible with love, as some immediately think. Some will say that the revelation of God's glory is synonymous with his love for us, since he knows that is what we need more than anything. This, again, sounds like rationalizing.

Perhaps it is time that we come to grips with the notion that this God loves us and will go through death for us, even though the world still rages around us. We are caught up in this fire when we see that divine intensity is greater still. But our concept of God must do honor to him rather than be borne out of our own character. There it is true that his ways are not our ways - for his ways are passionate and perfect love. I am not ready to accept a God who is as much a glory-seeker as we are when his center is an intense fiery love which goes beyond our comprehension.

God, deception, and young earthies

My life had a glancing pass of a statement of young-earth creationism yesterday, and I was reminded of some of the issues I have with the entire movement to push the Bible's message into the packaging of certain fundamentalists.

My concern is specifically for the Omphalos hypothesis, or the notion that the earth is young but that God created it to appear old - a position designed to reconcile geological data with the young-earth hermeneutic. (This, then, deteriorates into discussions about whether or not Adam and Eve had navels. *sigh*)

I have two nagging questions regarding the Omphalos hypothesis, and they both the same: Why?

Firstly, why is God interested in making the earth appear older than it really is? What purpose would he possibly have to deceive the people of earth into thinking that things are really much older than they actually are? This is quite peculiar behavior for one whose main purpose is to establish a relationship with his creation, specifically humanity, when we all know that strong ties do not start with half-truths or non-truths.

Secondly, why is it acceptable for God to deliberately deceive his own creation? This should not need elaboration, for it stands to reason that a trustworthy deity would necessarily act trustworthy at all times. Furthermore, I do believe that all of our theology - the parts that are actually built upon holy Scripture - tell us that God does not / can not deceive as part of his character of holiness.

Interestingly enough, this is simply one case (out of what would certainly be a long list) of our desire to win arguments that we are willing to sacrifice truth - even God's own stated character - to get there. So we should have a definite problem with those who would assert God's wisdom in deception by making the earth appear older than it actually is.

For a lie's a lie, no matter how small.

distance and freedom

"True human life is possible only if the vision of God is of such a nature that disbelief remains possible. The concern is not to keep people ignorant, but to preserve them."

(T. Fretheim, The Suffering of God, 92)

At the base of Sinai there are instructions not to allow the people to see God, or else they will die. Typically we assume that this is because the divine presence (holiness) is too intense for humanity to gaze upon, and thus would be our destruction. Old Testament scholar, Terence Fretheim, thinks that a more careful reading of the text demonstrates otherwise. And I think that he is more right than wrong here.

“The intensity associated with certain theophanies does not happen because God stands in some fundamental disjunction with the world, requiring much ‘sound and fury’ to occur in God’s wake. Some of the most ‘face to face’ comings of God are very quiet, it should be remembered, even childlike. There is a certain ‘nexus’ here that cannot be denied. Although God and world are categorically different, they are not as irreconcilable as repelling magnets or oil in water" (Ibid.).

Simultaneously we suppose that God cannot reveal himself to us and pray that God would be ever-present in our lives. We ask for the glory of God to be made known to us, but our mouths often testify to the 'fact' that God's glory is too great for us to handle. Yet one more unmatched theological rendering in modern evangelicalism, where our words about God and our words to God are not consistent.

Fretheim's assertion here is that God's distancing from humanity is for the purpose of preserving the whole of Creation as he made it - that it should have the relational freedom to act on its own, even to the point of denying the very existence (or the inherent glory of) its Creator. In a sense Christian thought has already run ahead to this point and arrived there. We confess, along with Paul and the early church, that the moment of parousia and the triumphant return of Christ will be the moment when every knee will bow and every tongue will confess (cf. Philippians 2:5-11). Thus, there will be no *choice* in accepting the sovereignty of God or his agent.

So, if God desires freedom in the world before the moment of Christ's second coming, is it possible for him to show his glory before that point? Not if the system of his creation - and the plan of his creation-activity - is to be preserved.

This also means that the presence of God hasn't been as far off as we've allowed our own minds to convince. It takes work to make a relationship flourish, and God will no more give us every blessing without the commitment of our own hearts engaged with him. Any time humans are given blessing too quickly and too easily it typically ends in some sort of disaster. Hence, we are free and we are given the opportunity to grow because of the distance of God's glory, and the nearness of his Spirit.

Pentecost seems to fit into all of this quite nicely, for it is now that our Creator is revealed in a more profound way . . . to bridge the gap for those who are willing to travel the road.

emptiness or divine quiet?

The past week has been given over to fasting and prayer. We as a church have collectively started our Lent season this way in the hopes of seeing a spiritual breakthrough and renewal among our congregation. Personally, I do not enjoy fasting, and that's fine to admit - it is the voice of God that I am seeking, not the absence of food.

Because we are in a church which is riddled with much spiritual warfare and internal conflict, we knew that this was going to be a significant undertaking. And, indeed, in the weeks of planning and preparation we saw a number of things that could only be described as attacks from the enemy. Certainly this would be an intense time of fasting and prayer.

My personal experience with the fast is something that I never quite anticipated. My initial reaction to the fast was that I felt empty. I know, right? You're supposed to feel empty . . . that's the deal with a fast. But I am talking about something deeper than the physical. In essence, I felt nothing. And this nothingness has become quite hard to explain.

At first, it was as though I had lost all desire, drive, interest, motivation . . . it was nothing. A person can handle this for a day or two, but then things start to become unnerving. Was I not doing it right? Was God not happy with me for some reason? Am I not able to enter into spiritual warfare on this level? What is happening?

What initially left me confused has now perhaps come to a fuller revelation. Sometimes we wait to hear God, but we want him to speak on our terms. This, of course, he does not typically do - for his ways are not our ways. There I was, sitting in the cave of the mountain waiting for God to come in a fire, earthquake, mighty wind . . . something. But he came and spoke most profoundly in such a deafening silence that my soul could barely endure.

Without noise, distraction, or the roaring conflicts of spiritual warfare filling my heart, my home, my family, or even at the church, there stood the Almighty. And his voice had once again spoken to the raging storms of creation, "Peace; be still." When all is said and done there can be no greater gift for me right now that the stillness of the divine presence. Of course, he knew that long before my shallowness could understand it.

Hence, I am left with a threefold understanding of his nature: 1) Every gift from him is a good and perfect gift; 2) We will never, ever be prepared to be approached by him; 3) Wherever we are, he will come and take us where we need to be.

abba

"This Holy 'abba' is a God who can be trusted the way children trust their father, who loves Israel as a father loves his children, who can be talked to the way children talk to their father, and wants Israel to respect him and obey him in the same way a father deserves respect and obedience." (Scot McKnight, A New Vision for Israel, 65).

Beyond the boundaries of anthropomorphic description lies the true essence of God the Father. The nature of anthropomorphisms has constantly been a struggle within theology. On one extreme there is the thought that since God's ways are not our ways (Isaiah 55:8-9) we cannot accurately describe him with human terminology, and on the other extreme is the thought that since all language about God is anthropomorphic then our theology is simply a mask for conducting anthropology.

Yes, the Bible teaches the incomprehensibility of God - God cannot be known unless he chooses to reveal himself. But (and I believe this comes from Barth), the mystery of understanding God does not come from the limits of language but from the metaphysical distinction between Creator and creation. In other words, it is not the fault of human reason and communication that keeps us from understanding God, it is the very essence of who he is in comparison to the very essence of who we are.

Abraham Heschel once wrote, "God's unconditional concern for justice is not an anthropomorphism. Rather, man's concern for justice is a theomorphism . . . Prophecy is essentially a proclamation that God's ways are not man's ways" (The Prophets, 2:51-52).

Thus, understanding the Almighty as Father pushes the limits of human reason, not because our language doesn't properly hold to the notion of 'abba' but because his ways are not our ways. Jesus also pointed to this when he compared the goodness of God the Father with human fathers (Matthew 7:9-11). All of the reasons why we do not understand or accept the blessings of fatherhood with our God is found in the distinction that our ways are different than his ways.

Of course, this does not negate the reality of his loving, fathering presence. The Bible is filled with accounts of God's enduring love for his people, a point which Jesus often reiterates with his own message. It is a covenantal love with his people, and it is an intimate love which whispers into the heart of everyone who hungers and thirsts for his presence. The prophetic message of Scripture is not a condemnation of our failure as it is a reality of our ways moving to destruction while his ways are moving toward life - a life to which he beckons us come.

wonder and connection

"What if the healing of the cancer patient and attracting the attention of a child with a passing butterfly are of equal importance in moving people toward a relationship with God?"

This question is found within Matt Litton's well-written book, The Mockingbird Parables (Tyndale, 2010, p. 32). There is a profundity embedded in such a query, for it reminds us why wonder exists, and demonstrates the workings of God as nothing short of miraculous regardless of when and where they are found. Too often we forget about such things.

But what if we were to stop, for a moment, and recognize the wonder that encompasses us in this world? Right now it is snowing outside of my window. There was a time when I marveled at the event, which somewhere turned into the cause of grumbling about the inconvenience it brings to my life. Rather than being fascinated by the way in which God chose to make the world he created for his own enjoyment, I am distracted by self.

Without wonder we cannot find God.

The delight within a laughing child from the liveliness of a butterfly in the air is a moment of connection to the Creator. For it is the Maker who also chose to delight in the liveliness of that flying insect, now becoming a shared moment of joy with the innocent response of the young. Have we yet to realize that when we have grown old enough to overlook the wonders of the world we have also lost a sense of his presence?

Along with the passing butterfly, Litton's comment speaks of the healing of cancer. It is human nature to place the latter event into a more powerful and profound category than the former, but neither is the case for God - though one may be a more serious and reflective event - for he is equally able to accomplish any task that he wills. Yes, our world is complex and troublesome, but that should not lead us to believe that anything is too impossible for the Almighty.

So, what is the purpose of God interacting in our world. Whether found in butterflies or healing, God comes to us with one singular purpose: to reveal himself and connect with our hearts. He does this through the story of our life, sometimes while we are captured with the sheer brilliance of the world, other times when we are struggling to make it through the challenges which surround us.

But, nevertheless, he is there . . . waiting to catch our attention.

the impossibility of moral evolution

Recently I was challenged on the notion of morality and ethics, specifically that morality was a product of the evolutionary process, devoid of any divine guidance or interaction. It is a statement made by an atheist, who must now defend whether or not there is truth and (more pointedly) ethics.

His exact words were: "The fact that people naturally develop morals happens by means of natural selection."

First, I believe that the fundamental burden of proof rests on those who make the assertion that morals can develop and evolve without the existence of god. This is because the most basic understanding of morality logically assumes a single standard (or rule) of thought in order to exist. In other words, it is the assumption that a moral standard is according to something, and the charge that ethics develop without a single standard is difficult to imagine.

Second, there is the existence of a common authority, to which atheists cannot appeal, since the absence of a deity leaves the individual as autonomous and sovereign. And billions of autonomous and sovereigns do not make a common authority without the presence of a standard thought. C. S. Lewis wrote, "Ninety-nine per cent of the things you believe are believed on authority" (Mere Christianity). The question which the atheistic mind does not answer is which authority one is to believe.

Third, if such a statement were true then we would find that it applies to all morality. But it doesn't. Even though the history of civilization has always seen the rise and fall of various moral systems, and even our recent cultural history has seen trends of moral consciousness and apathy, there have always been consistent thoughts regarding life and death. That there is a certain wrongness to taking another's life is always scrutinized. Sacrifices to gods are given justification for the act, and infant exposure must be explained away (just like in modern abortion arguments). But taking life is a moment in time - perhaps the pivotal moment - where morality appears and we must confront the reality of the source and meaning of life.

Although others have made more complete attempts at this argument (and have undoubtedly articulated it with greater clarity), I wanted to post a brief response to some of the immediate thoughts that I had to the aforementioned statement. The notion that morals are a product of natural selection is absurd, for it would mean that someone was behind the selecting . . . and those who deny the existence of a god cannot rightly appeal to a universal conscience without a massive problem. But that is the basis for which I gave my response to this misguided gentleman, albeit in a much shorter statement.

what season is it in heaven?

There are many different expression which try to get at the experience of heaven. Some people talk about how it will be a neverending worship service. Indeed, our grandparents were fond of talking about how we would sing the great hymns of the faith into eternity. I have often wondered, would God really do that to himself?

Superficially, such sentiment could be taken or left. More seriously, didn't God create humans to be human? In other words, are all of our gifts and talents forgotten at the gate of heaven where we are forced into the choir? I don't think so.

There is more to humanity than the singular purpose of singing praise to God. We are summoned to be God's representatives on earth, to be caretakers of his creation, and to be in fellowship with him. Redemption and restoration cannot mean that lose our distinctiveness and purpose as humans, for that would not be undoing the effects of sin but letting sin run us out of God's plan and forcing him to come up with some lesser alternative.

The same ought to be said of creation as a whole. Far too many Christians today believe that God is simply going to dispose of this earth (and heaven) for the new earth (and new heaven) that is to come. Simply stated, this is replacement theology. It is assuming that the earth has become so corrupted that it no longer rests within the Creator's ability to restore it and rescue it from evil. He has no choice but to blow it up and start again with something else. Again, this is not undoing the effects of sin, but conceding to it and moving on to something else.

And this is not God.

The Bishop has written two incredible books on this topic (The Resurrection of the Son of God and Surprised by Hope). In both of these he stresses quite strongly and rightly that the ultimate Christian hope is not 'life after death' but rather 'life after life after death' and that God's ultimate plan is found in the renewal of heaven and earth. This is the only way to makes sense of so many of the biblical texts, but leaves us baffled under the weight of generations who have simply assumed otherwise.

What is our expectation for the hope of this world? It is quite like asking what season it will be in heaven? Or perhaps we should be asking what season it will be in the new world?

As complex as the world is . . . and it really is an enormous complexity which our best minds and computers cannot fathom . . . are we to assume that it is always summer in the new creation? Will it always be springtime, because of its 'newness' and 'freshness'? Will it be autumn? Will it ever be winter? Or will it be the world that God has always intended it to be, and will cycle the way that God designed it to cycle?

What of those who enjoy winter? Will the new world be a place that allows the Winter Olympian to be as completely at home as the pipeline surfer? Is the new existence something that requires us to be uniform and alike? Or is it a world which is just as wonderfully diverse and exciting as creation has always been, now found to be more so because of the unbridled experience of God's love?

Our answers tell us what we think of heaven and new creation. And what we think of ourselves. And what we think of God.

me and my fickle faith

A week full.

A week full of surprises and excitement.

And fear.

How do days like these find me? Why am I taken off guard by them? My theology is bigger than my faith allows me to hold. For, I could give you long speeches about the greatness of God and I could give you a bold declaration of the goodness of God. Yet when he comes I cannot seem to figure out what to do with him.

My confession is thus: Often I find myself wanting and desire something more than what he has given me, even when I am content with what I have. I always play mind games with what could be and what should be, asserting my own wisdom over that of the divine. For I know that when he comes, I will be ready to move; when he calls me I will be the first to go.

And then he comes, and I am not ready to move. He calls and I am hesitant.

I suppose it is easier to be certain of the things we cannot see than it is to encounter that which is more real than we can imagine. It's as if God is content to show just enough of himself to shake our foundations before retreating back from us that we might not be undone by his glory. This is why Moses had to hide behind a rock, and this is why he must use the shadows of my own caves to stand back just a bit.

It is my own inability to surrender to him that keeps me from his holiness. He knows this, and is patient enough for me to come to him as I am. But until I am ready to let go of myself can I experience him without being destroyed? Only by his grace. But for now it will be the struggle between the depth of divine love and the shallow waters of my commitment. And he will still call me to his presence . . . shaking me forward and shaking me free.

imago

"Jesus is the image of the invisible God. He is incomprehensible to our Western minds - as he was to Eastern ones. He came from beyond where no human mind has visited. When we try to squeeze him into our systems of thought, he vanishes - he slips through our grasp and then reappears and (in so many words) says, 'No man takes my life from me. No man forces his will on me. I am not yours to handle and cheapen. You are mine to love and make holy.' In him the fullness of the Godhead dwells. In him all things are held together. In him we see what love is - that it originates in God and is energized by him. And so, we thank God for all we see. For beauty and for the miracle of sight, for music and the wonder of hearing, for warmth and the sense of touch. But we thank him more for Christ, without whom we would be deaf, insensitive and blind."

~Rich Mullins, "Invisible Things" in Release magazine, Nov/Dec 1994.

the 13th at 31

Occasionally one needs reminding that there are more important things than what we readily see in this world. While there are so many reasons to be filled with worry and fear when we scan the headlines or listen to our televisions, there are many more reasons to be filled with hope when our eyes our opened to the Spirit which surrounds us. Not the simplistic hope of the modern mind which seeks no more than its own self-gratification, but the hope which recognizes the direction and director of the world.

Reflecting on Psalm 13, I am struck with the two natures which collide in one piece of poetry. It begins with lament, for the situation of this psalmist is difficult to take - so much so that it is as though God has left his side. And without having God's presence, there is no remaining hope. Days are filled with sorrow, and the enemies' rise pushes the believer to the brink of disaster.

And too often my life has been focused on sentiments such as the first half of this psalm, seeing all of the wrongs and not admitting in my heart that there are reasons to hope in the future which God has prepared. I don't want this to be a futuristic pie-in-the-sky approach to the world, which does not recognize legitimate hurt and pain and evil in the world. But neither am I willing to let such realism define my life.

Now that I have moved from the eternal optimism of youth, through the disillusionment of real-life, I now seek for a faith which can accept hurt and pain but which is elevated to a higher existence by the power of God's Spirit. Getting caught up in frivolous debate, theologies based upon rantings, and ministries seeking personal aggrandizement will no longer work. For, like the psalmist of the thirteenth, the sorrow of this world will not have the last word over my trust in his unfailing love.

new perspective and openness: strange bedfellows?

Today I received my copy of Tom Wright's response to John Piper's critique on the Pauline view of justification. This is the very highly anticipated next-step in the ongoing debate of the topic, and proves to provide another (albeit more pointed) summary of Wright's exegesis and overall theology. Admittedly, since IVP is taking its time to release the US copy of this I took it upon myself to order the UK version (SPCK) so that I could get on with it. And I plan on reviewing it in more detail as the week goes on.

But for now I must offer a rather simple observation that I've made regarding the nature of Piper's criticism of Wright. [N.B., I happen to believe that Wright has it more correct than not, and that there are serious flaws in Piper's thinking and hermeneutic, both here and elsewhere.] In the introductory chapters the reader is brought up to speed regarding the nature of the debate, why it matters, and what is and is not being said by Wright. The book itself is a direct reply to Piper, though other critiques of the 'new perspective' find their way into the discussion. One of the issues which bothers Wright a great deal is Piper's insistence that we appeal to the writings of the Reformers, to which Wright believes happens at the expense of reading Scripture in its original context. Indeed, Piper seems to be willing to ignore first-century Jewish thought altogether for the sake of systematic development! Yet, Wright says it well: "The greatest honour we can pay the Reformers is not to treat them as infallible - they would be horrified at that - but to do as they did" (6).

It was at this point of the book that something struck me as particularly interesting: there are significant similarities between the 'neo-Reformed' (if that is an adequate term to describe this crowd, I stole it from Scot McKnight on the back of the book) in their critique of the new perspective as there is on their attacks of Open Theism. Seriously. Having known two of the more prominent Openness figures over the past ten years, I have seen firsthand how such 'critiques' can get out-of-hand and vicious, rather than constructive and kingdom-building. And the same moves which have been present in this debate, by the same opponents, using the same publishers, are being recycled here to protect their own take on tradition over anything else.

Taking the response to Sanders' The God Who Risks as an example . . . In this book, John Sanders seeks to give a biblical theology (which is a category often unrecognized or misunderstood by the 'neo-Reformers'), by placing texts in their original contexts which help to construct a faithful doctrine of God. There are some places where he is right; other places where he is wrong. But he does a solid job of navigating through the material, especially since he's been echoed by well recognized biblical scholars who are trying to accomplish the same thing (T. Fretheim, J. Goldingay). But some of the earliest (and ongoing) criticisms of him directly is that he is flying in the face of the Reformation tradition which has already told us what the doctrine of God is supposed to be.

Those of you who are keeping up with Piper-Wright should recognize this. For Piper and Ware are two of the most outspoken voices for the notion that the Reformation tradition is the trump card against Open Theism, instead of working within the realm of the biblical text. The result is the familiar ". . . debate, the 'arm-wrestling', the 'text-trading', the endless footnotes, the massive scholastic tradition of mutual references, refutations, restatements, and so on" (Wright, 66). Perhaps I'm confused, but what has happened to sola Scriptura?

When this is all boiled down, it should provide a significant blow to the academic credibility of this crowd - especially with the recycling of the rehashed arguments. I do not doubt for a moment that their hearts are sincere (though many of this camp have said otherwise about their opponents). But my grandmother's heart is sincere and she has no business offering a scholarly critique of Open Theism or NPP either. If we broaden our view and see what is happening here, we might just be at a turning point in the way we conduct our rhetoric - at least, in terms of those whom we will take seriously and those we won't.

open theism: answering the critics

My friend, John Sanders, pointed me to this collection of videos which were taken at Azusa Pacific University in April 2008.  The conference was on "Open Theology and Science" and this series of responses to the critics of openness was toward the conclusion.  I've included John's initial remarks, but the whole series can be found here.

perspectives on the doctrine of god

Bruce A. Ware, ed. Perspectives on the Doctrine of God: Four Views. Nashville: B&H Academic, 2008.

It's time for another round on the doctrine of God, this time given in a broad spectrum of belief running the gamut of major positions.  In this volume four authors are given opportunity to present their case for a specific understanding of God - Classical Calvinist, Modified Calvinist, Classical Free Will Theist, Openness.  And similar to every other multiple views book I have ever heard of, each author takes their turn in response to the others.

Let the theology fly!

Paul Helm: Classical Calvinist Doctrine of God

Although I do not fall into the Calvinist camp, I do try and recognize when this perspective makes a good point or a solid contribution to constructing theology and understanding the biblical text.  I went to a Calvinist seminary and know of a good number of areas in which this perspective is conveyed well.  This essay is not one of them.  Helm writes with a superiority which excludes any other viewpoint than classical calvinism as being invalid.  He deems his perspective "the tradition" and clearly does not display a humility that his understanding might ever be wrong.  He relies heavily upon Augustine, Anselm, and Aquinas - choosing these three and claiming that their writings are superior than anyone else throughout church history (he never defends why).  His chapter is supposed to be a presentation of his viewpoint, but he chooses to stop at the halfway point and spend the remainder of his essay attacking the other three positions in the book (a completely odd review of Classical Arminianism is included here), even though he will have the opportunity to respond to them in turn.  Kudos to Roger Olson who also takes him to task on some of these matters.

Bruce A. Ware: A Modified Calvinist Doctrine of God

Admittedly, I have a difficult time reading Ware because of his keynote presentation at the ETS in 2001 where he made sweeping and unfounded claims against the openness position in adding to the over-the-top furor which was spinning around the gathering.  But I will say that this particular essay was a good presentation of the modified calvinist perspective, and it reads as though he actually enjoys theology as an academic exercise, as opposed to the terrible writing of the first chapter.  One of his better sections includes: "The God of the Bible loves and seeks us out with such eagerness and persistence when he himself stands in no need whatever of the objects of his love" (85).  Although I disagree with the context, such a statement puts the position in a favorable light instead of the more defensive positions.  Ware relies heavily on 'relational mutability' and works hard to keep compatibilsim viable as an option.

Roger E. Olson: The Classical Free Will Model of God

The author here comes as a solid church historian and theologian, who has earned much respect in his years of the academy for fairness, honesty and integrity.  He writes well in his presentation of the free will model, reminding the reader: "It is a complicated gift; it is a mixed blessing" (149).  Perhaps the strongest aspect of this chapter is that Olson structures his presentation around the various misunderstandings and misperceptions of Arminianism in general.  One of the more significant lines is his assertion: "For free will theists, God's glory is not might but goodness" (155).  There is, I believe, too much thrown at free will theists about not attributing sovereignty and glory to God - which is simply untrue.  One of the issues which has been lurking in the shadows throughout the book but which comes to the forefront here is that of exhaustive divine foreknowledge.  As a classical free will position, this essay affirms a basic simple foreknowledge.

John Sanders: Divine Providence and the Openness of God

Perhaps the foremost current theologian advancing the openness model is John Sanders.  This is also why he takes much of the heat from the opponents of openness.  I know of many people on both sides of the issue who concede that much of what the openness position claims has been misunderstood, mis-presented, demonized and unfairly attacked.  (And to be fair, they have been rightly questioned and pushed as well.)  But what Sanders does in this essay is present the openness model fairly, honesty and simply.  Many readers will find this chapter alone worth the price of the book because of the way it is written and the manner in which Sanders works through the text.  At the heart of this perspective is this: "God is solely responsible for creating a world with the conditions in which the failure to love was a possibility" (211, emphasis in original).  Thus, there is no guarantee of what will come in the future, although there is assurance in the plan of God moving forward to its completion.  On the issue of exhaustive divine foreknowledge, Sanders does present an omniscient God who knows all that can be known (hence, if the future is not determined it is unknowable - not a fault with God, but a logical conclusion).

Overall, this is a good book - a solid purchase for those who want to see the discussion of the doctrine of God from a bird's eye view or for those who are looking for some introduction to these issues.  It is stated within the book that there will be more growth and fruitful dialogue from within each camp (Calvin / Free Will) than there will be across those lines.  This is true, but sad to be the case.  The dialogue will have to change significantly before this ever happens (and perspectives such as Helm's will certainly diminish our ability to move forward).  One of the biggest problems with the book is that the authors are simply not concerned with understanding the biblical texts from within the mindset or worldview of the biblical context.  As a biblical studies person, I find it quite difficult to reconcile many of these concepts with the perspective of, say, Second Temple Judaism without it coming across as an imposition on Scripture.

Sanders comes closest to achieving this here, and I know that his fuller treatment (The God Who Risks) is intended to be a biblical theology first and a philosophical/historical/systematic theology second.  But this is illustrative of the divide which has plagued the academy on this - the division of biblical studies and systematic theology.  I am grateful for a movement to join them back together and hope that it comes quickly.

My favorite (hands-down) quote is: "In several places Sanders borrowed language of the tradition to which he is not entitled. . ." (Paul Helm, 32).  Really!?!  I had failed to realize that Paul was now the pope of theological linguistics (and what happened to sola Scripture here?).

My second favorite quote is John Sander's suggestion to write a book entitled: God's Lesser Love: The Diminished God of Theological Determinism (181) because that's just awesome!

failing to plan is. . .

Presupposition might not be a wonderful thing, but self-recognition of presupposition certainly is.  By this I mean that scholars who write with a self-awareness of their own approach to the text but set it within its proper perspective (not just the false-humility under the pretense of complete objectivity) seem to have a more well-rounded exegesis.  It is fine to presuppose and to come with some conclusions already made, but to complete a study (especially research) these need to be open for reconsideration.  My present grievance is when conclusions are drawn too early in the process of biblical interpretation.

I'm presently working through a thesis for my own doctoral research: Guy D. Nave, The Role and Function of Repentance in Luke-Acts (Atlanta: SBL, 2002).  Admittedly, I don't know much about Nave, so there might be aspects here that are more apparent to others.  I am in the beginning stages of reading through his study, his proposed methodology and such, when I came across some presupposition that seems oddly out of place.

The author states:

Finally, not only is everything that has been accomplished among the author and his reader in accordance with God's divine plan, but God's plan has predestined these events to take place.  In Luke-Acts the plan of God was predetermined by God, and the plan itself has predetermined the events which have taken place (p. 17).

This point is presented quite early in regards to the thesis and seems to shut the door on some other legitimate interpretation before such passages are investigated.  Such an assertion is clearly made to *predetermine* the author's conclusion at the outset of his thesis.  And it is done unnecessarily at this point of Nave's work, when he has made some wonderful comments regarding the nature of narrative and authorial intent.  The fact that there is a plan does not necessitate a comprehensive design of every action - hence, God's exact plan cannot be that things do not work according to his exact plan.  Rather, the notion of a plan among free creatures captures the sentiment much better (as does other, more thoughtful deterministic views).

In the interest of full disclosure, my presupposition is that of a free-will theist.  However, I do not necessarily agree/disagree with an author on this basis; I have found that many scholars from the Reformed camp have made wonderful contributions to the discussion, when they have done so properly.