ordinary

I am tired of hearing this false gospel that is currently being propagated, that to be a real Christian I must do some extraordinary thing for Christ. That real Christianity cannot be realized on a rural farm is rubbish. If it cannot be lived there, it cannot be lived anywhere. We take up the Great Commission because of our insecurity, guilt, and discontentment. But Christianity is not a call to be extraordinary, but to see the extraordinary in the ordinary. So that water is no longer just water. Bread no longer just bread. Christianity is not a call to be somebody, but to be nobody. It is in being ordinary, becoming nobody, that we become real Christians. That we become like God. We love the people in our lives. Everything else, everything, is vainglory. Now it is extraordinary to love and pray for our enemies - but it is done in quietness. There is no stirring of any public pool here. No hubbub. No hurrahs. What is extraordinary in Christianity is that closets achieve more than councils, and that a cup of cold water is a conversion. We achieve more letting go of greatness than grasping at it.

Quiet and Humble

If you haven't heard, Anne Rice has left Christianity ... but not Christ, she says. I'm a little upset about her announcement. Not so much because of her decision, but because of the reasons she gives for her decision. She has been wounded by us. (Lord, have mercy.) But I am rooting for her, and for others like her. I am rooting for people like Christopher Hitchens who is suffering with esophageal cancer. I feel kinship with them; I have an affection for them. I see Christ in them.

Anne Rice's story is important not because she's a bestselling novelist. Her story is important because it's been told before, and it's been told by Christ. But we clap our hands over our ears and heap our disregard onto a wounded sister's shoulders. Anne Rice left the Church because you and I fail to love our neighbor. It's that simple. You and I make the faith about issues and politics and a world of things other than Christ. She left because you and I fail to be quiet and humble. When someone doesn't share our views - whether it's about sexuality, abortion, politics, or liturgy - we bristle and spit, "You aren't Catholic if you ..." or "You cannot follow Christ and ..." This is not love, but judgment. There is a place for those who are spiritual to come along and exhort, encourage, and correct. But it is not my place. It is not yours.

Nothing animates the pious like issues: not God, not Church, not loving the poor and marginalized - nothing. A fight invigorates us. But all our "righteousness" will never change the desires of someone who is homosexual. We cannot raise one hand to protect the unborn and choke our brown neighbor with the other. We will never convince anyone of the love of Christ with our anger and judgment. We are called to be martyrs for Christ. To die. And by our love to be the sacrament of God to our world.

If anyone will kill the Church, the pious will.

God is love. He is full of mercy. We must love others because God loves them. (If we are in communion with God, then we will love whom he loves.) We must be quiet and, like a child, humble. We must pray always. As for Anne Rice, let me close with a quote I recently read: "We believe ... that Christ is present in any seeker after truth. Simone Weil has said that though a person may run as fast as he can away from Christ, if it is toward what he considers true, he runs in fact straight into the arms of Christ" (from For the Life of the World, by Alexander Schmemann).

Don't Know Much Theology

Why is it that you believe what you believe? Is your belief merely an intellectual exercise - a kind of Pascal's Wager? Faith and theology, are felt, lived and prayed things. There is, sometimes, simply an intrinsic, unprovable rightness of a thing, like a sunset or the ocean. Like love. Like the Sistine Chapel or "Ave Maria." Like Dostoevsky and Milton and Hopkins. I hear "Christus Vincit" and I am undone.
     A kiss says more than a contract ever could.
     Do you know what I mean? Faith and theology are not things that can simply be explained, outlined, and bulleted. I can't hold them in my hand. And that's their beauty. These things about which we construct this or that particularity of our theologies is Mystery. Certainly, we must love the Lord our God with all our mind. But we must also understand the limitations thereof.
     And I can be particularly thick. So please do not ask me for proofs. I cannot give you proofs, unless you will accept a rose. Or a poem.

" 'God, have mercy upon all of them, have all these unhappy and turbulent souls in Thy keeping, and set them in the right path. All ways are Thine. Save them according to Thy wisdom. Thou art love. Thou wilt send joy to all!' Alyosha murmured, crossing himself, and falling into peaceful sleep" (Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov, final sentences of Chapter 11, Book 1).

In All Things, Sex

It's late - I'm tired and have a headache - but I wanted to throw together a few thoughts on the issue of sexuality tonight. I apologize for the sloppiness of the post/my thinking. Also, there are issues here that are of a rather sensitive and possibly offensive nature.

The ongoing sexual obsession of our society is disturbing. We see sex everywhere. And it has become who we are and how we think - so that a first grader who kisses a girl is suspended from school for sexual harassment. We do not understand innocence.

"With the loyal you show yourself loyal;
with the blameless you show yourself blameless;
with the pure you show yourself pure;
and with the crooked you show yourself perverse."

And Christians are no exception. We see this evidencing itself in our beliefs about sexuality. And our beliefs, or lack of beliefs, about sex are shaped by the silence of many of our churches on such issues as pornography and abortion, and an even greater silence concerning contraception and masturbation.

Our obsession is evidenced in our marital unfaithfulness and our pastoral sexual abuse.

Our obsession is evidenced in our immodesty and in our coarse humor - the very patterns of our thoughts relentlessly turn toward sex. And we begin to be unable to think of our thinking as possibly dysfunctional.

For example, in conversations about the ever-virginity of Mary, the idea of a man being married and also being chaste is, for some, inconceivable. Understand that I am not arguing here for Mary's perpetual virginity - but to be unable to even see chastity as a possibility is surely, at the very least, lamentable. (Mary's ever-virginity is not exclusive to Catholic and Orthodox traditions. The Reformers also believed in Mary's ever-virginity. So the rejection of Mary's ever-virginity is not simply a Protestant phenomena, at least not at Protestantism's own conception.)

Homosexuality and abortion are big issues in Christianity. Yet even these issues are, in some corners of Christianity, post-issues. I hear people making less of them. So it is no surprise that we do not talk much about more private issues, such as contraception and masturbation.

But it shocks me that 80 years ago, all traditions within Christianity opposed contraception. And tonight, on Nightline, the broadcasters seemed surprised to hear of a Christian group (the Quiverfull Movement) that was against contraception - as if this belief were a new thing, and extreme.

Nowadays, of course, most Christians do not think twice about contraception. That, in itself, is troubling. It is not even so much that Christians use contraception, though I believe contraception is wrong, but that we do not even ask questions about the dangers (the chemical regulation, shortening, or elimination of a woman's period) or morality of contraception - that it has become quite normal for us. Taking a pill or having a vasectomy is just what we do.

Finally, masturbation. I attended an evangelical Protestant college - perhaps fundamentalist, certainly dispensational. In my first year, students were not permitted to see movies. In my third year, as part of a Christian living class I took for my Bible minor, we discussed masturbation. The professor thought it possible to masturbate without sin, without sexual fantasy (or improper sexual fantasy) - that, perhaps even, Jesus masturbated.

Shocking as that may be, my point is this: The lecture was the only time I can recall hearing a discussion about the morality of masturbation. And outside of discussions about lust, I certainly was never taught that masturbation itself was disordered. In fact, we simply did not talk about it.

Ultimately, I suppose, I'm disheartened by our willingness (and even desire) to live broken lives. Our churches cannot afford to be shy about sexuality. Silence breeds acceptance. And impurity is still not the road to holiness.

On Being a Disciple

This morning I was doing some background reading on Stanley Hauerwas. I came across a 2001 TIME article that spoke of him as Christian Contrarian. The last paragraph follows:

A God who embraces powerlessness unto death is a message the world will never accept, says Hauerwas. Yet, he argues, it is that message the Christian is bid to take to all nations. If you were to ask Hauerwas to define himself by a single word, once he got Texan out of the way, he would probably say disciple and add that anyone who uses the word "better damn well mean it."

The War in/on Iraq (Or, What's in a Preposition?)

At the outset, I want you to know that I only have questions.

It has been three years and I am still very much saddened by our involvement in Iraq. I don't think we should have gone to war. Would we have been justified going to war even if WMDs had been discovered? I don't think so. And, anyway, how do you win a war against terrorism? How far do we go with this war? Do we engage in arguably terrorist activity in our pursuit to stomp out terrorism? (Terror: violence [as bombing] committed by groups in order to intimidate a population or government into granting their demands.)

Could terrorism be more effectively dismantled in some other way?

What ought the Church's response to this war have been? And what ought it to be? As followers of Christ, how ought we to act?

Let me make it clear that I do believe that it is important to pray for the men and women involved in this conflict (on all levels). We want no harm to come to them and we want them to act justly on behalf of the oppressed while they are on foreign soil.

Now, I am glad that Hussein is on trial, and I hope Iraq will eventually be able to put itself back together as a peaceful nation. But here are some of my questions: How many countries have leaders that need deposing? Will our deposition of one tyrant solve a country's problems? Is the United States right in taking on the responsibility of deposing a tyrant? Or should that be left to a more international group? Should we use the UN to handle such international problems? (Granted, there needs to be some reform within the UN, but it seems to me that we may be hurting ourselves tomorrow by ignoring the requests of the UN today.)

Sadly, I am not very involved in the goings-on in Iraq. In fact, I've put blinders on so that I don't have to think about it. I don't like thinking about it. Perhaps these very questions have been hammered out by others. If so, I'm certain they did so with a better understanding of the situation and I would love to be pointed in the right direction.

And his mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts; he has brought down the mighty from their thrones and exalted those of humble estate; he has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent empty away. (Luke 1, Magnificat [partial], ESV)

Two Stories: Sacrament and Symbol

I share the following stories only because they have been joined in my mind - and, lately, they have been weighing on me heavily. I have no brilliant conclusion to draw from them. They simply trouble me. They beg of me a decision; and they beg of me a chest, a heart, a soul.

The first story is from Fox's Book of Martyrs.

The erroneous worship which [William Gardner] had seen ran strongly in his mind; he was miserable to see a whole country sunk into such idolatry, when the truth of the Gospel might be so easily obtained. He, therefore, took the inconsiderate, though laudable design, into his head, of making a reform in Portugal, or perishing in the attempt; and determined to sacrifice his prudence to his zeal, though he became a martyr upon the occasion.

To this end, he settled all his worldly affairs, paid his debts, closed his books, and consigned over his merchandise. On the ensuing Sunday he went again to the cathedral church, with a New Testament in his hand, and placed himself near the altar.

The king and the court soon appeared, and a cardinal began Mass, at that part of the ceremony in which the people adore the wafer. Gardner could hold out no longer, but springing towards the cardinal, he snatched the host from him, and trampled it under his feet.

. . . . .

Gardner, being carried before the king, the monarch asked him what countryman he was: to which he replied, "I am an Englishman by birth, a Protestant by religion, and a merchant by occupation. What I have done is not out of contempt to your royal person, God forbid it should, but out of an honest indignation, to see the ridiculous superstitious and gross idolatries practiced here" (74, 75).

The second passage is rather long and comes from C. S. Lewis's That Hideous Strength, the third book of his Space Trilogy. It is about an institution's attempt to train one of the protagonists, Mark Studdock, in "objectivity."

Meanwhile, in the Objective Room, something like a crisis had developed between mark and Professor Frost. As soon as they arrived there mark saw that the table had been drawn back. On the floor lay a large crucifix, almost life size, a work of art in the Spanish tradition, ghastly and realistic. "We have half an hour to pursue our exercises," said Frost looking at his watch. Then he instructed Mark to trample on it and insult it in other ways.

. . . Mark had never believed in [Christianity] at all. At this moment, therefore, it crossed his mind for the very first time that there might conceivably be something in it. . . .

"But, look here," said Mark.

"What is it?" said Frost. "Pray be quick. We have only a limited time at our disposal."

"This," said Mark, pointing with an undefined reluctance at the horrible white figure on the cross. "This is all surely a pure superstition."

"Well?"

"Well, if so, what is there objective about stamping on the face? Isn't it just as subjective to spit on a thing like this as to worship it? I mean - damn it all - if it's only a bit of wood, why do anything about it?"

"That is superficial. If you had been brought up in a non-Christian society, you would not be asked to do this. Of course, it is a superstition; but it is that particular superstition which has pressed upon our society for a great many centuries. It can be experimentally shown that it still forms a dominant system in the subconscious of many individuals whose conscious thought appears to be wholly liberated. An explicit action in the reverse direction is therefore a necessary step towards complete objectivity. It is not a quest for a priori discussion. We find it in practice that it cannot be dispensed with."

Mark himself was surprised at the emotions he was undergoing. He did not regard the image with anything at all like a religious feeling. Most emphatically it did not belong to that idea of the Straight or Normal or Wholesome which had, for the last few days, been his support against what he now knew of the innermost circle at Belbury. The horrible vigour of its realism was, indeed, in its own ways as remote from that Idea as anything else in the room. That was one source of his reluctance. To insult even a carved image of such agony seemed an abominable act. But it was not the only source. With the introduction of this Christian symbol the whole situation had somehow altered. The thing was becoming incalculable. His simple antithesis of the Normal and the Diseased had obviously failed to take something into account. . . . "If I take a step in any direction," he thought, "I may step over a precipice." A donkey-like determination to plant hoofs and stay still at all costs arose in his mind.

"Pray make haste," said Frost.

The quiet urgency of the voice, and the fact that he had so often obeyed it before, almost conquered him. he was on the verge of obeying, and getting the whole silly business over when the defencelessness of the figure deterred him. The feeling was a very illogical one. Not because its hands were nailed and helpless, but because they were only made of wood and therefore even more helpless, because the thing, for all its realism, was inanimate and could not in any way hit back, he paused. The unretaliating face of a doll - one of Myrtle's dolls - which he had pulled to pieces in boyhood had affected him in the same way and the memory, even now, was tender to the touch.

"What are you waiting for, Mr. Studdock?" said Frost.

Mark was well aware of the rising danger. Obviously, if he disobeyed, his last chance of getting out of Belbury alive might be gone. Even of getting out of this room. The smothering sensation once again attacked him. He was himself, he felt, as helpless as the wooden Christ. As he thought this, he found himself looking at the crucifix in a new way - neither as a piece of wood or a monument of superstition but as a bit of history. Christianity was nonsense, but one did not doubt that the man had lived and had been executed thus by the Belbury of those days. And that, as he suddenly saw, explained why this image, though not itself the image of the Straight or Normal, was yet in opposition to crooked Belbury. It was a picture of what happened when the Straight met the Crooked, a picture of what the Crooked did to the Straight - what it would do to him if he remained straight. It was, in a more emphatic sense than he had yet understood, a cross.

"Do you intend to go on with the training or not?" said Frost. His eye was on the time. . . . "Do you not hear what I am saying?" he asked Mark again.

Mark made no reply. He was thinking, and thinking hard because he knew, that if he stopped even for a moment, mere terror of death would take the decision out of his hands. Christianity was a fable. It would be ridiculous to die for a religion one did not believe. This Man himself, on that very cross, had discovered it to be a fable, and had died complaining that the God in whom he trusted had forsaken him - had, in fact, found the universe a cheat. But this raised the question that Mark had never thought of before. Was that the moment at which to turn against the Man? If the universe was a cheat, was that a good reason for joining its side? Supposing the Straight was utterly powerless, always and everywhere certain to be mocked, tortured, and finally killed by the Crooked, what then? Why not go down with the ship? He began to be frightened by the very fact that his fears seemed to have momentarily vanished. They had been a safeguard . . . they had prevented him, all his life, from making mad decisions like that which he was now making as he turned to Frost and said,

"It's all bloody nonsense, and I'm damned if I do any such thing" (334-337).

Today's Big Thoughts for Little Brains

N.T. Wright says that the discussion of justification (and the argument surrounding Sola Fide) belongs not so much within soteriology as it does within ecclesiology.

He goes on to say that being justified by faith says less about how we are saved as it is a declaration that we are saved. Therefore faith is the badge, the declaration of our justification rather than its source. We do not merit justification through our believing, but our believing (our faith) is the evidence of our justification.

N.T. Wright can be difficult to understand. His ideas are especially difficult to understand after they're squeezed through my brain - perhaps they make no sense after I process them. Maybe it would just be easier to call him a heretic.

Sola Fide

How is one saved?

What are your arguments for "by faith alone"? And, perhaps more importantly, what do you mean by faith?

"You see that a man is justified by works and not by faith alone" (James 2.24, NASB). And "For we maintain that a man is justified by faith apart from works of the Law" (Romans 3.28, NASB). Paul and James seem to disagree sharply, though they do not. Together, then, what are they saying? The danger of "faith alone" is that we can believe that faith is simple intellectual assent. But faith as intellectual assent does not save, does it?

Also, what does Paul mean by "works of the Law"? Is he simply stating that works do not save, or is he saying something else entirely?

What do the Scriptures teach?

On Schism

There has been some debate about the new Southern Baptist Church (SBC) International Missions Board's (IMB) position on baptism. Eternal security, no speaking in tongues - a less generous position, in my opinion. It all smells like schism to me. Lord willing, it will not end in that for the SBC, but it stinks regardless.

I was re-baptized after college by a church fellowship that, the week preceding my baptism, split over the issue of baptism. I've written about it before here, but it continually strikes me as a sad coincidence.

Nowadays we view schism in the church, at best, as merely regrettable. I believe it's sin. And I believe it's sin for two reasons. (1) Christ called us to be one. When we split, when we divorce ourselves from one another, we are resisting his call upon our lives. We are being disobedient children. (2) Church division allows us to feel better about, more certain of, ourselves. That's right, subconsciously, we love a good schism because, whatever side we choose, we are left feeling that we are in the right. It creates an us-them dichotomy. Schism is proud. It says, "I am better than the one who broke away/stayed because I am more gracious/because I hold more firmly to the truth of the scriptures." But schism is graceless and ends in little truth.

Here are some arguments for schism: apostasy, heresy, differing practices, distinctives, or interpretations. Which of these arguments, if any, are valid for schism, for division within the Body of Christ? Are there other arguments? Can we maintain unity in the midst of our differences? If so, how?

Chuck Love: Toward a Better Understanding of the Kingdom

A Good Proposal follows:

From this day forward, all people shall wear laminated statements of faith that shall bear witness to their doctrines, distinctives, and practices. They shall wear them tightly about their necks. And when they meet another person of faith, they shall immediately read his Sheet. And so shall each one perfectly judge the other's share in the Kingdom.

(Context: There has been an ongoing argument, though not really, over homosexuality, though not really, that inspired this piece. If you have several free days, you can read the original articles and the extensive comments for yourself. The latest is here.)

On Becoming Different

2005 was a year of spiritual change for me. Changes, for the most part, precipitated by 2004's changes: Losing a semi-lucrative job, gaining a sans-filthy-lucre job (stay-at-home dad), and the ensuing struggle with my identity.

But instead of boring you with all of those sordid details, let me bore you with my ecclesial history instead. I was born and briefly raised Catholic. I left the church due to the many transgressions that I saw within it at the age of 10 (or thereabouts). I joined a non-denominational church, a house church of sorts, that over the course of several years evolved into an Eastern Orthodox church. I left again, and at the age of 13 or 14 began attending another non-/inter-denominational church. The pastor of that church was Dr. Emerson Eggerich - of rising marriage-counseling fame. Rob Bell attended the same church, but as I didn't attend Sunday School, alas, the two of us never met. Our common genius is more plainly seen and understood, I assume, however, at this point. (I so often brush against impending fame and miss it completely - what's up with that? Good news for those of you who almost know me. Bad news for those of you who know me well.)

When I left for college, I attended Grace College in Winona Lake, Indiana. It was the home of Larry Crabb (well, not by the time I got there). I did, however, have the privilege of sitting under Ted Hildebrandt who has done some excellent work in the book of Proverbs and Hebrew poetry (Ted is no longer at Grace, but now teaches at Gordon College). I met and married my wife who is the daughter of a Grace Brethren pastor and so my stint with the Grace Brethren Fellowship began. The Grace Brethren distinctives include trine immersion (triple dunking) and three-fold communion (foot washing, eucharist, and love feast).

My wife and I moved to a city without a Grace Brethren church and so we attended Southern Baptist churches for the next 9 years. We then joined and are now a part of an Evangelical Free Church (not, by the way, free of evangelicals) - grace rather than dogmatism - a good place, but not without its faults.

I grew up with a very ecumenical perspective. I understood, and understand, the value of different theological perspectives. I understand some of their strengths and many of their weaknesses. I remain frustrated with their inability to see one another as brothers and sisters in Christ with whom they can have communion.

2005, however, was my discovery of this renegade group of truthless megalomaniacs who called themselves emergent. People who asked questions of my certainties. Hell, people who asked questions just to ask questions - incessant questioning. People who talked of walking as an explication of their doctrine. People who I felt inexorably drawn toward. I sensed a grace about them. I sensed a love for Jesus in their hearts. And so, I stepped tip-toe onto the shore of this Island of Misfits with all of the natives' uncertainties, all of their quirks, and all of their graces. I stepped so lightly that the natives are mostly unaware of my presence.

Just before I was fired, I joined up with four other families to start a church plant. The pastor, a good friend, has shared my journey into emergent-hoodlum-dom, I believe. He was actually three or four steps ahead of me the entire time, but was patient and a good sounding board for some of my uncertainties and questions. He introduced me to Blue Like Jazz.

And finally, I discovered, by others' recommendations, N.T. Wright, who has explained a thing or two to me. I'm exceedingly grateful for the Lord Bishop's work and witness. I have yet to read anything by Brian McLaren, though I have listened to some mp3's. I only know a little about this emerging conversation, quite honestly, but I'm learning.

So I don't fit in with the family as well as I used to. So I'm a little more different in how I think about things. It's not as if I'm a non-conformist or something. I'm just trying to do my best to follow Christ. And while the emerging conversation is probably not my final destination, it's where I find myself today.

That's the generalized and boring version of my journey and it leaves out some of the more intimate details. But if you have any questions about it, let me know. I'll probably not have any answers, probably just an incessant string of annoying questions, but I'll do my best.