You might suppose that this post is a response to all the turmoil in the world at the moment. I must admit, I find it curious that people can look at the increased oppression, greed, violence, and general depravity in our world and still believe that humanity is essentially good and getting better. Talk about not facing the facts! The only reason for this is that to face reality forces people to contemplate the existence and activity of God.
I stress this point many times in my preaching. In order to understand the world, you have to understand human nature, and human nature apart from Jesus is sinful and selfish. The result is a sinful and selfish word, a world we humans have created by our own self-centered choices. Humanity is broken and badly in need of fixing.
The real impetus for this post is my continued scanning of my old papers. One was an analysis of Augustine's views on free will in man. This was a curious paper; it is not research into what others say about Augustine, but an analysis of his own writings, primarily Grace and Free Will. As I edited the scan (OCR software is much better than it used to be, but is hardly infallible, especially when professors write all over your paper!), I found that in my conclusion I state the reality of human nature in pretty much the same terms I currently use. I hadn't recalled that this was part of what I believed and stated strongly in my seminary days.
Reading about Augustine's teaching, it also reminded me that the human condition has not changed much in the last 1600 years. The ways we choose to indulge ourselves may be different, but the human heart is the same. We continue to serve self over God, and to try to find ways to push God out of the practical sphere of our lives. We might give Him some due on Sunday morning, but then it's back to a distant heaven from which He does not disturb us.
Augustine pointed out that free will simply gives us the ability to choose and follow our own nature. For those who do not know Jesus, this means even their best efforts are driven by selfish desires. Augustine even argued that good works done without God are done only to provide an advantage for the sinner. Without Jesus, we have no hope and no way to improve as humans.
As Christians, our will can now follow our regenerate nature, but we struggle with our old, sinful nature still. We have a genuine free choice to be natural, but two natures that fight against each other for control. Discipleship is the process of learning to follow our new nature by the power of the Holy Spirit, and slowly pulling free from the old self.
Maybe I do overstate the case a bit in my title. Humanity is not getting better by itself, but by the grace of God, through the sacrifice of Jesus, and under the guidance of the Holy Spirit humanity has the potential to become more like God created it to be.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Sunday sermon-"Jesus Meets an Outsider"
Several members of the congregation told me that the story related in Matthew 15:21-28 had bothered them for some time. It certainly seems on the surface to put Jesus in a harsh light. It also doesn't ring true with what has already happened in His ministry. He had performed miracles that benefited Gentiles previously. Why the sudden change in His professed attitude?
As I studied for this message, I came to the conclusion that Jesus' seemingly harsh statements were actually designed with a loving purpose. The woman approached Jesus as an outsider to His world, and referred to Him by a title, Son of David, that made Him an outsider to hers. She was looking for power to solve her current problem, and Jesus seemed like a possible source. Like many today, both outside and inside the church, she wanted the benefit of Jesus without making Him the authority in her life.
Jesus' first statement actually agrees with her. "I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel" reflects her attribution of "Son of David" to Him. He says in effect, "Yes, I am Israel's Messiah. You have placed yourself outside of my authority with the title you have given Me." He seeks to draw the woman into His world.
She does get it. She kneels before Him and calls Him simply "Lord." This is the beginning of a proper realization of her relationship to Jesus. While "Lord" (Greek kurie) can be merely an expression of respect, I believe the overall thrust of the passage shows her to understand that Jesus really does have some authority over her.
We expect the story to continue with Jesus now answering her request, but he adds what appears to be an even harsher statement. "Dog" was an insult no matter what culture of that day it was said in, and the fact that the word is for the household dogs does not alleviate that. Jesus continues to press the woman for her understanding of who He is, and He once again states His primary sphere of concern is with Israel.
The woman agrees that she has no right to the blessings reserved for Israel; she understands she is outside of that covenant community. But she expresses a strong belief in the power of Jesus, believing that even the "crumbs" of His power and authority are sufficient to resolve her problem. She did not need what belonged to God's people, only enough to satisfy her need.
Jesus remarks on her "great faith," and grants her request. He has drawn her into a relationship with Him, at a rudimentary level, and His action serves to strengthen her faith and her bond to Jesus. Although the Bible does not tell us what happened to her, I believe it is possible that as Christianity spread out from Jerusalem, and especially since it found a strong center in Antioch in Syria, that this woman became a follower of Jesus through His church. When we come to Jesus seeking a connection to Him, not merely His favors, He will respond to us and draw us in closer to Him.
As I studied for this message, I came to the conclusion that Jesus' seemingly harsh statements were actually designed with a loving purpose. The woman approached Jesus as an outsider to His world, and referred to Him by a title, Son of David, that made Him an outsider to hers. She was looking for power to solve her current problem, and Jesus seemed like a possible source. Like many today, both outside and inside the church, she wanted the benefit of Jesus without making Him the authority in her life.
Jesus' first statement actually agrees with her. "I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel" reflects her attribution of "Son of David" to Him. He says in effect, "Yes, I am Israel's Messiah. You have placed yourself outside of my authority with the title you have given Me." He seeks to draw the woman into His world.
She does get it. She kneels before Him and calls Him simply "Lord." This is the beginning of a proper realization of her relationship to Jesus. While "Lord" (Greek kurie) can be merely an expression of respect, I believe the overall thrust of the passage shows her to understand that Jesus really does have some authority over her.
We expect the story to continue with Jesus now answering her request, but he adds what appears to be an even harsher statement. "Dog" was an insult no matter what culture of that day it was said in, and the fact that the word is for the household dogs does not alleviate that. Jesus continues to press the woman for her understanding of who He is, and He once again states His primary sphere of concern is with Israel.
The woman agrees that she has no right to the blessings reserved for Israel; she understands she is outside of that covenant community. But she expresses a strong belief in the power of Jesus, believing that even the "crumbs" of His power and authority are sufficient to resolve her problem. She did not need what belonged to God's people, only enough to satisfy her need.
Jesus remarks on her "great faith," and grants her request. He has drawn her into a relationship with Him, at a rudimentary level, and His action serves to strengthen her faith and her bond to Jesus. Although the Bible does not tell us what happened to her, I believe it is possible that as Christianity spread out from Jerusalem, and especially since it found a strong center in Antioch in Syria, that this woman became a follower of Jesus through His church. When we come to Jesus seeking a connection to Him, not merely His favors, He will respond to us and draw us in closer to Him.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
The "Common Christian"
In reading Pelikan's The Christian Tradition, I appreciate the way he notes that our understanding of the development of Christian belief is often colored by the materials we have available to study. In one sense, what we know about Christian doctrine in its earliest days is really what a small number of apologists and writers believed. It is rather like assuming that modern theological discussion in churches consists of those issues that the systematic theologians choose to discuss. As an active pastor, I know this is not the case.
Pelikan is careful to note this tendency. We don't have much choice but to find our data on Christian doctrine in those documents extant today. We certainly can't read lost works! At the same time, what was believed and taught in the church at large was not likely as detailed as the academics of that day make it sound. Pelikan looks for clues to the doctrine of what might be called "common Christians" in the liturgical writings and practices that we know from the era.
Belief was likely much simpler and more direct for most Christians. Few would undertake to read, much less try to understand, the writings of Clement of Alexandria, Origen, or Irenaeus. They would simply hold to the early creedal statements and the teaching of their pastors and bishops, and practice the liturgical traditions they knew.
This is really no different for the modern church. Despite widespread education in the West, few Christians take time to study academic theology and wrestle with the complex issues about which theologians argue. Most Christians (even leaving aside the casual and cultural Christians who have little understanding of their faith at all) are confessional; they accept what their church teaches without concerning themselves about all the details of those positions. They engage in the liturgical practices of their church without worrying about just what all of that symbolizes.
This might seem like a harsh criticism, but I don;t mean it in that way. While I would like to see more of the members of my church engaged in deep study of the Scriptures and researching why we believe as we do, I understand that this is not a major priority for most people. It also demonstrates a trust in the clergy and leaders of the church. Most church members of any denomination will believe that their pastor is someone who understands the faith, and can teach them what is true and necessary to live for Jesus.
Of course, this places a burden on those who are teachers. We have the trust of many, and must not abuse that trust. One of the reasons for the rise of heresy in the early church was an insistence by heretical teachers that they alone could be trusted, that they alone had the truth. They took the trust of their followers and abused it to enhance their own teachings. We must be careful that what we teach is the Word of God and not our own ideas.
I see no reason to anticipate a rise in theological interest in the church at large today. (In some segments, it may even be that the reverse is true!) The "common Christian" will continue to believe and to practice Christianity as taught by those who lead them. The concerns of academia will not necessarily be theirs, but their Christian belief will be far more representative of the faith of our era than the mass of our theological writings. This should humble us, even as it encourages us to teach faithfully.
Pelikan is careful to note this tendency. We don't have much choice but to find our data on Christian doctrine in those documents extant today. We certainly can't read lost works! At the same time, what was believed and taught in the church at large was not likely as detailed as the academics of that day make it sound. Pelikan looks for clues to the doctrine of what might be called "common Christians" in the liturgical writings and practices that we know from the era.
Belief was likely much simpler and more direct for most Christians. Few would undertake to read, much less try to understand, the writings of Clement of Alexandria, Origen, or Irenaeus. They would simply hold to the early creedal statements and the teaching of their pastors and bishops, and practice the liturgical traditions they knew.
This is really no different for the modern church. Despite widespread education in the West, few Christians take time to study academic theology and wrestle with the complex issues about which theologians argue. Most Christians (even leaving aside the casual and cultural Christians who have little understanding of their faith at all) are confessional; they accept what their church teaches without concerning themselves about all the details of those positions. They engage in the liturgical practices of their church without worrying about just what all of that symbolizes.
This might seem like a harsh criticism, but I don;t mean it in that way. While I would like to see more of the members of my church engaged in deep study of the Scriptures and researching why we believe as we do, I understand that this is not a major priority for most people. It also demonstrates a trust in the clergy and leaders of the church. Most church members of any denomination will believe that their pastor is someone who understands the faith, and can teach them what is true and necessary to live for Jesus.
Of course, this places a burden on those who are teachers. We have the trust of many, and must not abuse that trust. One of the reasons for the rise of heresy in the early church was an insistence by heretical teachers that they alone could be trusted, that they alone had the truth. They took the trust of their followers and abused it to enhance their own teachings. We must be careful that what we teach is the Word of God and not our own ideas.
I see no reason to anticipate a rise in theological interest in the church at large today. (In some segments, it may even be that the reverse is true!) The "common Christian" will continue to believe and to practice Christianity as taught by those who lead them. The concerns of academia will not necessarily be theirs, but their Christian belief will be far more representative of the faith of our era than the mass of our theological writings. This should humble us, even as it encourages us to teach faithfully.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Old Papers
I've been cleaning up my basement, and in the process I came across a pile of old papers I had written in and after seminary. While the scholarship is obviously dated, I found that much of what I wrote 20 years ago still stands up pretty well today. Were I to cover the same subjects now, I would not be embarrassed to start with what I wrote back then.
Perhaps more intriguing is looking back at how I approached the various subjects. These papers were for the most part assignments for classes I took in seminary and graduate school, so there is some obvious "academic speak" in them. I found some details were incorrect, and I think that was largely due to the time pressure of school, along with some inexperience in certain fields. Interestingly, the exegetical work done for a few papers in OT and NT studies has held up well; I doubt that much would change if I rewrote those today.
I especially found my writing for church history fascinating. Some short papers written as responses/reactions to questions involving different eras of church history demonstrated (at least to me) my interest in the earliest years of the church. The roots of my love of the patristic period were already beginning to form then. It would not be until a course in patristics a couple of years later that my interest would grow, but seeing my academic roots was a stimulating experience.
I was pleased to find my magnum opus among those old papers. (Yes, my tongue is firmly in my cheek.) I wrote a paper for Patristics on baptismal doctrine and liturgy in the writing of the Apostolic Fathers, which I later expanded for a graduate school application. Although the work was done on translations of the texts, I believe I did justice to the topic, and I would not be embarrassed to have someone read that paper now.
Recalling the work that went into that paper, I think that I have a lot to do to match it with my current project, another visit with patristic theology. Rather than discouraging me, I find that reading my old work encourages me to look ahead, to study harder, and to attempt to do just as well in explicating and discussing another subject.
Often when we go to school, we labor for days, weeks, or months on a subject, only to have the paper read by a professor or a committee, graded, and forgotten. It was like a visit to my past to read these old works, and to recall much of what went into their production. I hope to use what I learned then to help me as a scholar now.
Perhaps more intriguing is looking back at how I approached the various subjects. These papers were for the most part assignments for classes I took in seminary and graduate school, so there is some obvious "academic speak" in them. I found some details were incorrect, and I think that was largely due to the time pressure of school, along with some inexperience in certain fields. Interestingly, the exegetical work done for a few papers in OT and NT studies has held up well; I doubt that much would change if I rewrote those today.
I especially found my writing for church history fascinating. Some short papers written as responses/reactions to questions involving different eras of church history demonstrated (at least to me) my interest in the earliest years of the church. The roots of my love of the patristic period were already beginning to form then. It would not be until a course in patristics a couple of years later that my interest would grow, but seeing my academic roots was a stimulating experience.
I was pleased to find my magnum opus among those old papers. (Yes, my tongue is firmly in my cheek.) I wrote a paper for Patristics on baptismal doctrine and liturgy in the writing of the Apostolic Fathers, which I later expanded for a graduate school application. Although the work was done on translations of the texts, I believe I did justice to the topic, and I would not be embarrassed to have someone read that paper now.
Recalling the work that went into that paper, I think that I have a lot to do to match it with my current project, another visit with patristic theology. Rather than discouraging me, I find that reading my old work encourages me to look ahead, to study harder, and to attempt to do just as well in explicating and discussing another subject.
Often when we go to school, we labor for days, weeks, or months on a subject, only to have the paper read by a professor or a committee, graded, and forgotten. It was like a visit to my past to read these old works, and to recall much of what went into their production. I hope to use what I learned then to help me as a scholar now.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Sunday sermon- "Jesus Meets a Captive Man"
Evil is real. The biggest error made by politicians, philosophers, and social scientists today is a belief that humanity is essentially good and can get better, along with a corollary belief that evil is just the result of people not knowing how to do what is right. "If only we could educate the masses better!" they cry. "Then we could create our utopia!"
When we see Jesus at work in Mark 5:1-20, we see a confrontation with real evil. The demons represent the kingdom of Satan trying to keep control away from Jesus. In this case, the demons are themselves the problem; in other situations, especially in our world today, Satan and his forces work behind the scenes to promote and encourage evil. In either case, the evil is real.
This should make us stop and think. As those who believe on Jesus, we confront evil every day. It may be someone battling an addiction that resulted from poor choices. It may be people in positions of power who attempt to hold down those underneath them. It may be miserable people chained to a job, a relationship, a group that keeps them from realizing who they are in God's sight. Just as the man in our story was controlled by an evil spirit, many today are controlled by evil desires. When we look at our world, we are overwhelmed by the extent of evil.
The story does not end there, of course. Jesus demonstrates that He has power over evil. For all the demonic pleading, they were subject to the Master of all creation. Even their attempt to remain in the area by entering the herd of pigs failed. (I wonder if the pigs sensed the presence of the demons, and reacted instinctively to escape their power at any cost.) Jesus brings peace out of strife, order out of chaos, and redemption out of oppression.
Perhaps the saddest part of this story is the reaction of the townspeople. At least one had just suffered a substantial loss (depending on how many owners there were of the herd), and I think that had a large impact on their view of Jesus. Sure, He had power over demons, and He had made that crazy man down by the tombs right again, but He also upset the way things were in the town. They chose to ask Jesus to leave rather than risk more changes they might not foresee. (The fact that Jesus was a Jewish rabbi in a Gentile region probably didn't help.)
How do we react to Jesus today? Do we ignore Him and struggle under the burden of evil? Do we see His power but decide we don;t want our lives changed, that the risk is too great? Or, like the man who was released, do we desire to follow Jesus and to spread the word about Him wherever we go?
When we see Jesus at work in Mark 5:1-20, we see a confrontation with real evil. The demons represent the kingdom of Satan trying to keep control away from Jesus. In this case, the demons are themselves the problem; in other situations, especially in our world today, Satan and his forces work behind the scenes to promote and encourage evil. In either case, the evil is real.
This should make us stop and think. As those who believe on Jesus, we confront evil every day. It may be someone battling an addiction that resulted from poor choices. It may be people in positions of power who attempt to hold down those underneath them. It may be miserable people chained to a job, a relationship, a group that keeps them from realizing who they are in God's sight. Just as the man in our story was controlled by an evil spirit, many today are controlled by evil desires. When we look at our world, we are overwhelmed by the extent of evil.
The story does not end there, of course. Jesus demonstrates that He has power over evil. For all the demonic pleading, they were subject to the Master of all creation. Even their attempt to remain in the area by entering the herd of pigs failed. (I wonder if the pigs sensed the presence of the demons, and reacted instinctively to escape their power at any cost.) Jesus brings peace out of strife, order out of chaos, and redemption out of oppression.
Perhaps the saddest part of this story is the reaction of the townspeople. At least one had just suffered a substantial loss (depending on how many owners there were of the herd), and I think that had a large impact on their view of Jesus. Sure, He had power over demons, and He had made that crazy man down by the tombs right again, but He also upset the way things were in the town. They chose to ask Jesus to leave rather than risk more changes they might not foresee. (The fact that Jesus was a Jewish rabbi in a Gentile region probably didn't help.)
How do we react to Jesus today? Do we ignore Him and struggle under the burden of evil? Do we see His power but decide we don;t want our lives changed, that the risk is too great? Or, like the man who was released, do we desire to follow Jesus and to spread the word about Him wherever we go?
Thursday, February 17, 2011
The Return of Marcion
OK, not exactly. But there certainly are parallels between what Marcion did back in the second century and what is done by many today. (One of the reasons I find the second century so fascinating is the connections that can be seen between the way Christians interacted with their culture then and the way we need to interact with our culture now.) Marcion, who ended up labelled as a heretic, would actually fit well in some seminaries of the 21st century.
Marcion is of course best known for his attempt to produce a canon of Scripture that fit what he saw as the truth. He found the concept of God in the Old Testament and that of God in the New as incompatible. In order to salvage Christianity, Marcion had to reshape the Bible. While the New Testament books were circulating at that time, the Old Testament was still the primary Scriptures of the church. To Marcion, this was unacceptable, and he set about to "correct" this.
First, he totally rejected the Old Testament. In doing so, he had to propose another source as the definitive Scriptures of the church. He took Luke, the gospel most closely associated with Paul (and, perhaps not coincidentally, written by a Gentile), and ten of Paul's epistles as his canon. Even these books required editing to remove their Jewish elements. Each of these books was already circulating in the church, and were widely accepted (in their original form).
This situation was untenable to the orthodox church, and the formalization of the accepted canon of Scriptures began to take place. Although a final canon would not be definitively established for another 200 years or so, the New Testament as we have it today was largely accepted as canonical shortly after Marcion's time, and it was given equal status with the Old Testament as God's Word.
So how does this match what we see today? There are many who still attempt to create a canon of Scripture for themselves from what has been the Bible of the church. This generally involves the rejection of certain passages or even books whose teachings the modern churchgoer wants to ignore. While they may not go to the extreme of removing these passages physically, they effectively "de-canonize" certain Scriptures by refusing to acknowledge them as authoritative for us today. In doing so, they make for themselves a Bible that teaches what they want it to teach, and lines up nicely with what our society and culture teach as well.
There are also those who still teach that the God of the OT and the God of the NT are radically different. Rather than moving in a Gnostic direction, as Marcion did, contemporary "splitters" speak in evolutionary terms of the development of religion, and of the progress of faith from primitive superstition to ethical purity. The net effect is the same, however; Jesus is given a makeover into a 21st century teacher of ethics and love far removed from the real picture we have of Him in the Bible, and God is removed from His throne and placed outside of our experience.
My opinions, of course, are not those of allegedly "mainstream" Christian scholarship. I admit that I am often suspicious of scholarship that finds that what is in the Bible and what a society teaches happen to line up perfectly. This isn't just a function of our era; this has happened many times throughout the history of the church, even back in its earliest days. I think that the hard work of studying the Bible and working out not only its meaning but its application for today provides a much more rewarding and challenging experience than finding ways to make the Bible match what we already believe. The difficulty is, of course, in acknowledging that God is indeed on His throne, and that what we find may require us to change our lives to be more like Him.
Marcion is of course best known for his attempt to produce a canon of Scripture that fit what he saw as the truth. He found the concept of God in the Old Testament and that of God in the New as incompatible. In order to salvage Christianity, Marcion had to reshape the Bible. While the New Testament books were circulating at that time, the Old Testament was still the primary Scriptures of the church. To Marcion, this was unacceptable, and he set about to "correct" this.
First, he totally rejected the Old Testament. In doing so, he had to propose another source as the definitive Scriptures of the church. He took Luke, the gospel most closely associated with Paul (and, perhaps not coincidentally, written by a Gentile), and ten of Paul's epistles as his canon. Even these books required editing to remove their Jewish elements. Each of these books was already circulating in the church, and were widely accepted (in their original form).
This situation was untenable to the orthodox church, and the formalization of the accepted canon of Scriptures began to take place. Although a final canon would not be definitively established for another 200 years or so, the New Testament as we have it today was largely accepted as canonical shortly after Marcion's time, and it was given equal status with the Old Testament as God's Word.
So how does this match what we see today? There are many who still attempt to create a canon of Scripture for themselves from what has been the Bible of the church. This generally involves the rejection of certain passages or even books whose teachings the modern churchgoer wants to ignore. While they may not go to the extreme of removing these passages physically, they effectively "de-canonize" certain Scriptures by refusing to acknowledge them as authoritative for us today. In doing so, they make for themselves a Bible that teaches what they want it to teach, and lines up nicely with what our society and culture teach as well.
There are also those who still teach that the God of the OT and the God of the NT are radically different. Rather than moving in a Gnostic direction, as Marcion did, contemporary "splitters" speak in evolutionary terms of the development of religion, and of the progress of faith from primitive superstition to ethical purity. The net effect is the same, however; Jesus is given a makeover into a 21st century teacher of ethics and love far removed from the real picture we have of Him in the Bible, and God is removed from His throne and placed outside of our experience.
My opinions, of course, are not those of allegedly "mainstream" Christian scholarship. I admit that I am often suspicious of scholarship that finds that what is in the Bible and what a society teaches happen to line up perfectly. This isn't just a function of our era; this has happened many times throughout the history of the church, even back in its earliest days. I think that the hard work of studying the Bible and working out not only its meaning but its application for today provides a much more rewarding and challenging experience than finding ways to make the Bible match what we already believe. The difficulty is, of course, in acknowledging that God is indeed on His throne, and that what we find may require us to change our lives to be more like Him.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Sunday sermon-"Jesus Meets an Accomplished Man"
It's a curious phrase, tucked into the middle of the story of the man commonly called the "rich young ruler." In Mark 10:21 , we read that after the man had told Jesus he had kept the commandments since his youth "Jesus looked at him and loved him." The answer that followed would not have been viewed as loving by either the Jews of the first century for whom wealth was seen as a sign of God's blessing, nor by a modern Western audience who would think a loving answer would have been something affirming. How could Jesus love this man, yet tell him to give up everything and follow Him?
This is where understanding a truly Biblical concept of love makes a difference. In our society, we tend to think of love in terms of emotional response. We "fall in love" when we are carried away with our passion. We love someone if we think of them fondly and feel good about them. When those emotional responses dry up, we feel fully justified in moving on to the next "love."
Jesus' love wasn't rooted in emotion, but in wanting this young man to realize fully who he was in God's eyes. That could not happen as long as he had his wealth in the pace God should be. Jesus knew that in order to realize himself fully he had to let go of the lesser, temporary consolations of wealth in favor of the genuine, eternal love of God. The love of Jesus would not allow this man to walk away with a vague feeling of success when he was truly in desperate need.
I think that we often let ourselves think that the way to respond lovingly to those who do not know Jesus is to make them feel OK about whoever or whatever they value, and to allow them to think that as long as they live a decent, sincere life they'll be all right. That isn't love. It may well be warm and fuzzy, and it may give us the approval of our society, but it isn't love. Love tells the truth even when it is hard and uncomfortable. Love is not needlessly harsh; Jesus didn't berate the man about his love of wealth, nor make a spectacle of him. Jesus simply laid the reality of the choice he had to make before him, knowing that this young man understood the repercussions.
The man chose, and obviously was disappointed by the choice he had to make. He wanted success on earth and in heaven on his own terms. Jesus offered eternal life, but on Jesus' terms. Notice that Jesus did not make the choice for him; the man made his own choice. However you view the Calvinist/Arminian debate, when we are presented with the claims of Christ we must make what is a real choice in our current circumstances. Jesus allowed the rich young ruler his choice. We have no indication that this man ever came to follow Jesus, despite what some scholars speculate.
This passage gives us pause; if Jesus was not 100% successful in evangelism, how can we hope our witness will make a difference? Jesus answers this in verse 27: "With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God." Don't lose hope as a witness for Jesus Christ. Remember that it is the Holy Spirit's role to convict the heart and bring a realization of the need for Jesus. Be faithful in presenting Jesus to those you meet, and lay the eternal choice before them.
This is where understanding a truly Biblical concept of love makes a difference. In our society, we tend to think of love in terms of emotional response. We "fall in love" when we are carried away with our passion. We love someone if we think of them fondly and feel good about them. When those emotional responses dry up, we feel fully justified in moving on to the next "love."
Jesus' love wasn't rooted in emotion, but in wanting this young man to realize fully who he was in God's eyes. That could not happen as long as he had his wealth in the pace God should be. Jesus knew that in order to realize himself fully he had to let go of the lesser, temporary consolations of wealth in favor of the genuine, eternal love of God. The love of Jesus would not allow this man to walk away with a vague feeling of success when he was truly in desperate need.
I think that we often let ourselves think that the way to respond lovingly to those who do not know Jesus is to make them feel OK about whoever or whatever they value, and to allow them to think that as long as they live a decent, sincere life they'll be all right. That isn't love. It may well be warm and fuzzy, and it may give us the approval of our society, but it isn't love. Love tells the truth even when it is hard and uncomfortable. Love is not needlessly harsh; Jesus didn't berate the man about his love of wealth, nor make a spectacle of him. Jesus simply laid the reality of the choice he had to make before him, knowing that this young man understood the repercussions.
The man chose, and obviously was disappointed by the choice he had to make. He wanted success on earth and in heaven on his own terms. Jesus offered eternal life, but on Jesus' terms. Notice that Jesus did not make the choice for him; the man made his own choice. However you view the Calvinist/Arminian debate, when we are presented with the claims of Christ we must make what is a real choice in our current circumstances. Jesus allowed the rich young ruler his choice. We have no indication that this man ever came to follow Jesus, despite what some scholars speculate.
This passage gives us pause; if Jesus was not 100% successful in evangelism, how can we hope our witness will make a difference? Jesus answers this in verse 27: "With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God." Don't lose hope as a witness for Jesus Christ. Remember that it is the Holy Spirit's role to convict the heart and bring a realization of the need for Jesus. Be faithful in presenting Jesus to those you meet, and lay the eternal choice before them.
Monday, February 7, 2011
History and the Root of Theology
No Sunday sermon this week, since I did not preach.
Reading the beginning of Irenaeus' Demonstration of the Apostolic Teaching places the reader in a very different world. The pastor of my home church has been preaching on Genesis and how what we read in the first few chapters affects us in our contemporary world. This is a departure from the consensus of scholarly thought, perhaps even within evangelical circles, which regard the first 11 chapters of Genesis as myths designed to teach us some truth through a fictitious, ahistorical account. (In a previous post I mentioned a chapel speaker at my son's conservative Bible college who espoused this view.) Scholars, like other people, want to be accepted by their peers, and holding to Genesis as historical does not gain one appreciation among the majority of scholars.
Yet Irenaeus roots his theology in the accounts of Genesis: creation, the Fall, the flood. He makes a great deal about the various characters we find in these stories, and what they teach us about the way to relate to God. He sees theology as unfolding from these early stages as God reveals more about Himself to those who seek Him. Without this foundation, the rest of the story of redemption would collapse.
Now you can chalk this up to Irenaeus' historical naivete. There are certainly places where he shows that he accepts beliefs from non-Biblical sources, possibly on the basis of what other Christian writers taught. Yet he is careful to cite Scripture as he lays out his teaching for his audience. Irenaeus also understands some Biblical passages differently than we do today (he accepts the idea that the "giants" of Noah's times were the seed of angels and human women, for instance-although you will still find modern teachers who also accept this), but he is still careful to use the Bible the basis for his teaching.
I believe that Irenaeus is correct in his decision to root his teaching in Genesis understood as genuine history. As the history of theology shows, tearing history from the Genesis accounts often (if not inevitably) leads to finding it convenient to continue to do so throughout Scripture, including doing so to the gospel accounts of Jesus. At that point, Christianity ceases to be a faith and becomes a dry ethic that follows the remnants of the teachings of a Palestinian rabbi who may or may not have said what is recorded and who certainly did not rise from the dead.
Such a teaching may appeal to some. It allows you to create a Jesus that fits what you want Him to be by simply ignoring what you don't like in the Bible. This has been going on in the church almost as long as it has existed; Marcion was a prime example of changing the content of the Bible to fit what you want to believe. But in doing so, we rob Christianity of the power it has a a true story of God's work and Christ's redemption. In C.S. Lewis' phrase, Christianity is "myth become fact," and without the facts the myths lose their meaning.
Reading the beginning of Irenaeus' Demonstration of the Apostolic Teaching places the reader in a very different world. The pastor of my home church has been preaching on Genesis and how what we read in the first few chapters affects us in our contemporary world. This is a departure from the consensus of scholarly thought, perhaps even within evangelical circles, which regard the first 11 chapters of Genesis as myths designed to teach us some truth through a fictitious, ahistorical account. (In a previous post I mentioned a chapel speaker at my son's conservative Bible college who espoused this view.) Scholars, like other people, want to be accepted by their peers, and holding to Genesis as historical does not gain one appreciation among the majority of scholars.
Yet Irenaeus roots his theology in the accounts of Genesis: creation, the Fall, the flood. He makes a great deal about the various characters we find in these stories, and what they teach us about the way to relate to God. He sees theology as unfolding from these early stages as God reveals more about Himself to those who seek Him. Without this foundation, the rest of the story of redemption would collapse.
Now you can chalk this up to Irenaeus' historical naivete. There are certainly places where he shows that he accepts beliefs from non-Biblical sources, possibly on the basis of what other Christian writers taught. Yet he is careful to cite Scripture as he lays out his teaching for his audience. Irenaeus also understands some Biblical passages differently than we do today (he accepts the idea that the "giants" of Noah's times were the seed of angels and human women, for instance-although you will still find modern teachers who also accept this), but he is still careful to use the Bible the basis for his teaching.
I believe that Irenaeus is correct in his decision to root his teaching in Genesis understood as genuine history. As the history of theology shows, tearing history from the Genesis accounts often (if not inevitably) leads to finding it convenient to continue to do so throughout Scripture, including doing so to the gospel accounts of Jesus. At that point, Christianity ceases to be a faith and becomes a dry ethic that follows the remnants of the teachings of a Palestinian rabbi who may or may not have said what is recorded and who certainly did not rise from the dead.
Such a teaching may appeal to some. It allows you to create a Jesus that fits what you want Him to be by simply ignoring what you don't like in the Bible. This has been going on in the church almost as long as it has existed; Marcion was a prime example of changing the content of the Bible to fit what you want to believe. But in doing so, we rob Christianity of the power it has a a true story of God's work and Christ's redemption. In C.S. Lewis' phrase, Christianity is "myth become fact," and without the facts the myths lose their meaning.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
The Juxtaposition of Study
Once in a while, I am brought up short in my studies by what seems to be the coincidence of the convergence of lines of study. This, of course, happens all the time, and so should no longer strike me as a novelty. Still, it is interesting how often when we study what we believe to be independent lines of pursuit that we find our separate subject matter shines light on other areas we are also pursuing.
This assumes that our studies are not so singularly focused that we are essentially pursuing one line of thought at a time. Most of us do not have that luxury. As a pastor, teacher, parent, and aspiring scholar I find myself in multiple studies at the same time, often reading several books at once. (That should be the subject of another entry someday!) I do not often intentionally plan for my studies to converge, yet they do more often than probably I recall.
I have begun reading a book on Heaven for a Sunday school class in which I am participating. The author speaks often of how important Heaven was for the early church, and how in recent times we have begun to push teaching about Heaven to the periphery of theology. His emphasis on the expectations and aspirations of early Christians meshed nicely with my own interest in the patristic period.
That alone was not the coincidence. I have begun to pursue study in the area of eschatology in the second century. (This is part of the reason I began re-reading Irenaeus.) I am interested in the early church's teaching on Heaven, Hell, the afterlife, and the end times. So my required reading for Sunday school may very well provide me with information I can use as I look into this area of study.
In a way, life has continued to be like academic study when it comes to how and what I am learning. I don;t always get to choose just my favorite subjects, and I usually have multiple "courses" I am studying at the same time. Not all of my studies go into academia (I am currently beginning to learn ASL, for example), but altogether they serve to provide me with a greater understanding of God, the world, and myself. This makes me better able to serve in my various capacities in a way that honors Jesus and is effective in ministering to others, whether as an educator or a servant.
This assumes that our studies are not so singularly focused that we are essentially pursuing one line of thought at a time. Most of us do not have that luxury. As a pastor, teacher, parent, and aspiring scholar I find myself in multiple studies at the same time, often reading several books at once. (That should be the subject of another entry someday!) I do not often intentionally plan for my studies to converge, yet they do more often than probably I recall.
I have begun reading a book on Heaven for a Sunday school class in which I am participating. The author speaks often of how important Heaven was for the early church, and how in recent times we have begun to push teaching about Heaven to the periphery of theology. His emphasis on the expectations and aspirations of early Christians meshed nicely with my own interest in the patristic period.
That alone was not the coincidence. I have begun to pursue study in the area of eschatology in the second century. (This is part of the reason I began re-reading Irenaeus.) I am interested in the early church's teaching on Heaven, Hell, the afterlife, and the end times. So my required reading for Sunday school may very well provide me with information I can use as I look into this area of study.
In a way, life has continued to be like academic study when it comes to how and what I am learning. I don;t always get to choose just my favorite subjects, and I usually have multiple "courses" I am studying at the same time. Not all of my studies go into academia (I am currently beginning to learn ASL, for example), but altogether they serve to provide me with a greater understanding of God, the world, and myself. This makes me better able to serve in my various capacities in a way that honors Jesus and is effective in ministering to others, whether as an educator or a servant.
Friday, February 4, 2011
The Purpose of Scholarship
I am re-reading one of my favorite writings from the early church, Irenaeus' Demonstration of the Apostolic Teaching. This manual of instruction produced toward the end of the second century is a window into the teaching of the church in its earliest phases. The post-apostolic era was one in which the teaching of the apostles was beginning to be formulated for wider expression, and was becoming gradually more "Gentile" as it spread. What I find intriguing in Irenaeus is his essential conservatism of doctrine. Unlike many early Christian writers, he is not primarily interested in speculative philosophy and making Christian doctrine fit into Greek thought, but in passing down what he believes to be the teachings of the apostles to his own generation.
The opening paragraphs of the Demonstration are a salutary reminder to all who engage in scholarship and study. We often at least act like we believe the purpose of study is the attainment of knowledge in the abstract. We speculate and suggest without the slightest consideration of how our thoughts influence our actions. In this way, error has sometimes crept into the church, as those who sought innovation and novelty worked in a vacuum that squeezed out the air of practice.
Irenaeus warns his friend Marcianus that it is necessary to keep both orthodoxy and orthopraxy together: "For what profit is it to know the truth in words, and to pollute the flesh and perform the works of evil? Or what profit can purity of the flesh bring, if truth be not in the soul?" (ch. 2) This warning is against two errors: that of seeking to comprehend the truth intellectually while failing to live it out, and that of living a life that appears to all as good while believing falsehood. Both are fatal to the soul.
Either of these errors lead one into hypocrisy. There are many who strive to keep up the appearance of being godly while not holding onto the truth of God's Word. This even includes some pastors; my son told me that one of the chape speakers at his very conservative Christian college told the students that he considered Genesis 1-11 just a "myth" and that there were other places in Scripture that were in error. He may have the admiration of some, but he has in his own mind begun to cut out truth in favor of what he wants to believe. The opposite error is to hold onto an intellectualized belief, but one which does not affect the life. Religious thought is treated as having no impact on reality; it's just there to make us feel better about ourselves when things go badly.
Striking a balance of faith and practice may not be natural for us as we wrestle with our old selves, but it is what make us whole. Integrity refers to having all parts of our life integrated. As we put our faith and our works together (as James constantly reminds us), we become people who not only can reflect godly integrity to our society, but we grow more like the people God created us to be.
The opening paragraphs of the Demonstration are a salutary reminder to all who engage in scholarship and study. We often at least act like we believe the purpose of study is the attainment of knowledge in the abstract. We speculate and suggest without the slightest consideration of how our thoughts influence our actions. In this way, error has sometimes crept into the church, as those who sought innovation and novelty worked in a vacuum that squeezed out the air of practice.
Irenaeus warns his friend Marcianus that it is necessary to keep both orthodoxy and orthopraxy together: "For what profit is it to know the truth in words, and to pollute the flesh and perform the works of evil? Or what profit can purity of the flesh bring, if truth be not in the soul?" (ch. 2) This warning is against two errors: that of seeking to comprehend the truth intellectually while failing to live it out, and that of living a life that appears to all as good while believing falsehood. Both are fatal to the soul.
Either of these errors lead one into hypocrisy. There are many who strive to keep up the appearance of being godly while not holding onto the truth of God's Word. This even includes some pastors; my son told me that one of the chape speakers at his very conservative Christian college told the students that he considered Genesis 1-11 just a "myth" and that there were other places in Scripture that were in error. He may have the admiration of some, but he has in his own mind begun to cut out truth in favor of what he wants to believe. The opposite error is to hold onto an intellectualized belief, but one which does not affect the life. Religious thought is treated as having no impact on reality; it's just there to make us feel better about ourselves when things go badly.
Striking a balance of faith and practice may not be natural for us as we wrestle with our old selves, but it is what make us whole. Integrity refers to having all parts of our life integrated. As we put our faith and our works together (as James constantly reminds us), we become people who not only can reflect godly integrity to our society, but we grow more like the people God created us to be.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Understanding Roots
I had the pleasure today of beginning to read Jaroslav Pelikan's The Christian Tradition Vol. 1. As someone interested in the patristic era, I have intended to read this volume for quite some time, but other necessary reading always intervened. I hope to read this book somewhat more slowly than most; ike many, I have a tendency to want to "get through" a book. This one I want to digest.
Pelikan begins his book with an examination of the roots of Christian doctrine. This is one of the elements of theology that is often missed in modern systematic formulations. Christianity did not come out of a vacuum the day Jesus ascended to the Father; it has roots in the religious and philosophical world in which it began. Sometimes I think that modern theologians truly believe that theology and doctrine began with their era, and should accommodate the thought of our time.
The primary roots of the Christian faith are found in Old Testament Judaism. Yet much of the early apologetic effort of Christian writers was to contrast their faith with that of Judaism. The earliest Christians were largely though not exclusively Jewish, and NT writers such as James and the author of Hebrews show how steeped they are in Jewish thought. Even Paul, often portrayed as the one who "Gentilized" Christianity, was proud of his own Jewish heritage and education. As it grew as a faith, Christianity began to part ways with its Jewish roots (although some groups, such as the Ebionites, maintained Jewish traditions), and this divide really became vast after the fall of Jerusalem in 70 AD.
Early Christianity also had to encounter the popular pagan ideas of the time. One of Pelikan's points that I found fascinating was that in this encounter, Christianity began to "re-Judaize." The pagan philosophers thought Christianity was just a new faddish religion of recent vintage, so apologists for the faith dug back into the teaching of Moses and the prophets to demonstrate that this was no new teaching, but was far older than the Greek philosophers. While perhaps the apologists took some liberties with the data, they were right in rooting Christianity back to Moses, and even further.
So much of the modern church wants to find novelty in the way it teaches the Bible. There is a serious lack of historical perspective among many Christians-not just of the early roots of our faith, but even of more recent developments in theology. (Of course, by "recent" I would include the Reformation or the liberal-modernist controversy, not just the latest issue of Christianity Today.) Perhaps if we had such a perspective, we would be less inclined to accept every new teaching that aligns itself with our culture and find the solid truths on which our faith is based.
Pelikan begins his book with an examination of the roots of Christian doctrine. This is one of the elements of theology that is often missed in modern systematic formulations. Christianity did not come out of a vacuum the day Jesus ascended to the Father; it has roots in the religious and philosophical world in which it began. Sometimes I think that modern theologians truly believe that theology and doctrine began with their era, and should accommodate the thought of our time.
The primary roots of the Christian faith are found in Old Testament Judaism. Yet much of the early apologetic effort of Christian writers was to contrast their faith with that of Judaism. The earliest Christians were largely though not exclusively Jewish, and NT writers such as James and the author of Hebrews show how steeped they are in Jewish thought. Even Paul, often portrayed as the one who "Gentilized" Christianity, was proud of his own Jewish heritage and education. As it grew as a faith, Christianity began to part ways with its Jewish roots (although some groups, such as the Ebionites, maintained Jewish traditions), and this divide really became vast after the fall of Jerusalem in 70 AD.
Early Christianity also had to encounter the popular pagan ideas of the time. One of Pelikan's points that I found fascinating was that in this encounter, Christianity began to "re-Judaize." The pagan philosophers thought Christianity was just a new faddish religion of recent vintage, so apologists for the faith dug back into the teaching of Moses and the prophets to demonstrate that this was no new teaching, but was far older than the Greek philosophers. While perhaps the apologists took some liberties with the data, they were right in rooting Christianity back to Moses, and even further.
So much of the modern church wants to find novelty in the way it teaches the Bible. There is a serious lack of historical perspective among many Christians-not just of the early roots of our faith, but even of more recent developments in theology. (Of course, by "recent" I would include the Reformation or the liberal-modernist controversy, not just the latest issue of Christianity Today.) Perhaps if we had such a perspective, we would be less inclined to accept every new teaching that aligns itself with our culture and find the solid truths on which our faith is based.
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