Today was The Day. That is, today is when non-tenured teachers were supposed to find out if they weren't going to be rehired for next year. I anxiously dared to open my e-mail inbox, wondering if I was going to have The Meeting today.
No news is good news, I guess.
As the day went on, I found out that two other hard-working science teachers got let go (and one was a two-sport coach, at that!). It was really a numbers game. The district is in debt, the curriculum is changing, and enrollment actually dropped. I'm not entirely in the clear yet, but I heard that today would be "the day" for anyone getting let go.
I hate turning on the news anymore, and the atmosphere is equally paranoid every day in public schools. I heard that a large local district released all of their first-year teachers. But it makes me ever so thankful that God has graciously answered my near-daily prayers for continued employment. (On top of this, two of my students even brought me some of the scrumptious cake they made last night during a "study party"!)
As Olivia has so often reminded me, "The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 4:5-7). Thank you, Father, for your kindness toward me through your Son, Jesus Christ.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
Whose orthodoxy is it?
A recent issue of Christianity Today magazine examined the rise of Calvinism in an article titled, "Young, Restless, and Reformed." Rallying around the likes of John Piper and John MacArthur (at least as much as they can be considered confessionally Reformed), the theology of "Calvinism" has been growing in evangelical circles. But not everyone is pleased by this. Scot McKnight says this about the so-called "Neo-Reformed" in a few recent posts at the BeliefNet blog (part 1; part 2):
In trying to defend the gospel, though, do we really need the "doctrines of grace"? Are they themselves essential to the gospel--so much so that if someone doesn't adhere to them he has bastardized the message of Christ and is not a true "evangelical"?
In short--yes and no. For starters, it was Lutherans during the 16th-century Reformation who were first called "evangelical," coming from the Latin evangel, or "gospel." Oops. (Granted, Reformed theology during the 16th and 17th centuries looked a whole lot more like Lutheranism than it does now.) Without being too minimalist or vague, here is what I consider essential to the gospel. (I hope you will see that, unlike some versions that are merely propositions or "points," the gospel is really a story in history.)
Whether or not Reformed Protestants actually believe about "double predestination" what everyone else thinks they do--a gross caricature in my estimate--I find McKnight's criticisms a sharp rebuke to folks like me. You see, I would consider my theological understandings most in conformity with the Reformed tradition. What I think McKnight labels as "Reformed theology" is really the mislabeled "five points of Calvinism," better known as the "doctrines of grace." Granted, this has little to do with the meat of real Reformed theology, which is that all of God's dealings with humanity are subsumed under one of two overarching covenants: a covenant of works and a covenant of grace.They think the only legitimate and the only faithful evangelicals are Reformed. Really Reformed. In other words, they are "confessing" evangelicals. The only true evangelical is a Reformed evangelical. They are more than happy to call into question the legitimacy and fidelity of any evangelical who doesn't believein classic Reformed doctrines, like double predestination.
In trying to defend the gospel, though, do we really need the "doctrines of grace"? Are they themselves essential to the gospel--so much so that if someone doesn't adhere to them he has bastardized the message of Christ and is not a true "evangelical"?
In short--yes and no. For starters, it was Lutherans during the 16th-century Reformation who were first called "evangelical," coming from the Latin evangel, or "gospel." Oops. (Granted, Reformed theology during the 16th and 17th centuries looked a whole lot more like Lutheranism than it does now.) Without being too minimalist or vague, here is what I consider essential to the gospel. (I hope you will see that, unlike some versions that are merely propositions or "points," the gospel is really a story in history.)
- God created the world "very good" and man--Adam and Eve--in his image, for the goal of wholehearted fellowship with and enjoyment of God himself.
- Through the deceptive agency of Satan, Adam exercised distrust and rebellion and brought God's curse of death--both physical and spiritual--upon all his progeny, that is, all of mankind. All of humanity is covenantally represented "in Adam" and are therefore under sin's guilt, shame, and power. Though God still requires all persons to fully obey God's moral law, they cannot do so and under just condemnation.
- God graciously promised to provide a Redeemer in whom man would be rescued from sin, and through whom God would reign in righteousness to bring blessing and life to a world dead in sin. (*Addition: These blessings were originally pledged in Eden and then to Abraham and his offspring, later to be given to all persons who shared in Abraham's faith.)
- Because of man's inability to effect his own restoration through works, God himself lovingly and mercifully took on human flesh in the person of Jesus Christ to achieve the obedience he required from man and to become an unblemished substitute to bear in his own death God's holy and just punishment for man's sin. This loving sacrifice reconciled sinful man to God.
- Christ's was vindicated by God at his resurrection, and he now reigns from heaven to give his Spirit to all who would repent of their works, futility, and pride, and turn to him for salvation. Such persons are now, by the Spirit, given new birth "in" or "into Christ," are forgiven and declared righteous in him, and receive as a free gift the life Christ himself earned by his obedience.
- Spiritual fellowship with Christ now transforms believers into a truer image of God.
- Christ will return physically and visibly before the sight of all the world, and all persons will be raised bodily. Christ will condemn unbelievers to eternal torment and to welcome believers into eternal bliss in the kingdom of God--a new world which is again "very good" where we will honor and enjoy God unendingly.
The Reformed "doctrines of grace" do help to clarify these points and add depth and meaning. But this gospel goes a long way even without such beneficial clarifications. This message is our center. What I think the Heidelberg Catechism or Westminster Confession or Canons of Dordrecht do for us (and why they're ultimately necessary) is that they teach us to place saving agency--and thus all boasting and thanksgiving and honor and praise--squarely with God himself and God alone. They unpack more fully the message that "God saves sinners." We still have much the same gospel. It's just that without the Reformed lens on Scripture we wouldn't know how much praise and credit to really ascribe to God for the salvation we now have. We wouldn't know as well the security with which we lie in God's love and power.
In one sense, the Reformation's theology could be summed up as "Salvation belongs to the Lord; damnation belongs to man." It's a story of two cities, two mediators, two destinies, two ways to be human. So what the church really needs right now is not so much explicit, confessional Reformed orthodoxy, but finely tuned Law-Gospel sensors. We need pastors who are able to rightly able to expose how futile is our merit and how great and continual is our need for justification and life. And such pastors will also be able to lead us to the One in whom this justification and life is freely given.Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Saying "I'm Sorry"
I realized while writing in my journal on Saturday that there's a big difference between saying "I'm sorry" and "Will you forgive me?" You may think it's a mere matter of semantics--and I'll let you retain that right--but I think there's a lot more to it.
You see, I'm finding that it's so much harder to ask for forgiveness than to say I'm sorry for doing something. Myabe it's just me, but I get this gut-rumbling, gulp! gotta-swallow (my pride) feeling when I'm deciding between saying "sorry" and the "f-word." (This, of course, usually occurs while I'm nervously twiddling my thumbs and my eyes cast downward--anywhere, really, but at the person I've injured.)
You see, forgiveness can only occur when an actual wrong, an injury, a trespass, has been committed. It has to named for what it is--and then never held against the offender again. "Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you," St. Paul exhorts the Ephesian church (Ephesians 4:32). If I ask someone to forgive me as in Christ God forgave me, then that's painful. God didn't just nonchallantly wipe away our sins. "Eh, it's no big deal. You were flawed anyway, and I'm immutable by human deeds, so no big deal. Shall we let bygones be bygones and call it even?" No, when God forgave us in Christ, he declared our sins for what they really were. "Then God made you alive with Christ, for he forgave all our sins. He canceled the record of the charges against us and took it away by nailing it to the cross" (Colossians 2:13-14 NLT). God didn't hide our sins or gloss over them. Like the Roman executors' custom, God made public our list of offenses, nailing to the cross. Upon Calvary, however, God didn't nail a placard to the cross detailing our sins; he nailed the Sinner himself, Jesus Christ, who bore our own sins in his body.
Asking for forgiveness is hard because it means I must acknowledge that I didn't just make a mistake; I didn't just slip up or have a momentary lapse in judgment. I sinned. I willfully and selfishly did something wrong (gasp!) to another person. It's hard to say that--not only to myself, but to the injured. It's much easier to say, "I'm sorry," because that just implies nothing wrong was really done, perhaps just something regrettable. "I'm sorry for doing that" really means, "I regret the fact that this happened, but I don't really intend to do anything about it." Of course, we can easily believe our own lies, so if we simply say "sorry" enough, it's easy to feel better about ourselves: I didn't do anything deliberately wrong, at least nothing inexcusable, and I've now made proper amends for it. Yeah, right.
But the Cross of Christ speaks a different word. There God exposes us each as manipulative, selfish mercenaries and proves us utterly impotent at making proper amends. But there he also freely provides the only One who is sufficient to make proper amends and to the uttermost atone for all our sins. Yes, even the sin of saying "I'm sorry."
You see, I'm finding that it's so much harder to ask for forgiveness than to say I'm sorry for doing something. Myabe it's just me, but I get this gut-rumbling, gulp! gotta-swallow (my pride) feeling when I'm deciding between saying "sorry" and the "f-word." (This, of course, usually occurs while I'm nervously twiddling my thumbs and my eyes cast downward--anywhere, really, but at the person I've injured.)
You see, forgiveness can only occur when an actual wrong, an injury, a trespass, has been committed. It has to named for what it is--and then never held against the offender again. "Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you," St. Paul exhorts the Ephesian church (Ephesians 4:32). If I ask someone to forgive me as in Christ God forgave me, then that's painful. God didn't just nonchallantly wipe away our sins. "Eh, it's no big deal. You were flawed anyway, and I'm immutable by human deeds, so no big deal. Shall we let bygones be bygones and call it even?" No, when God forgave us in Christ, he declared our sins for what they really were. "Then God made you alive with Christ, for he forgave all our sins. He canceled the record of the charges against us and took it away by nailing it to the cross" (Colossians 2:13-14 NLT). God didn't hide our sins or gloss over them. Like the Roman executors' custom, God made public our list of offenses, nailing to the cross. Upon Calvary, however, God didn't nail a placard to the cross detailing our sins; he nailed the Sinner himself, Jesus Christ, who bore our own sins in his body.
Asking for forgiveness is hard because it means I must acknowledge that I didn't just make a mistake; I didn't just slip up or have a momentary lapse in judgment. I sinned. I willfully and selfishly did something wrong (gasp!) to another person. It's hard to say that--not only to myself, but to the injured. It's much easier to say, "I'm sorry," because that just implies nothing wrong was really done, perhaps just something regrettable. "I'm sorry for doing that" really means, "I regret the fact that this happened, but I don't really intend to do anything about it." Of course, we can easily believe our own lies, so if we simply say "sorry" enough, it's easy to feel better about ourselves: I didn't do anything deliberately wrong, at least nothing inexcusable, and I've now made proper amends for it. Yeah, right.
But the Cross of Christ speaks a different word. There God exposes us each as manipulative, selfish mercenaries and proves us utterly impotent at making proper amends. But there he also freely provides the only One who is sufficient to make proper amends and to the uttermost atone for all our sins. Yes, even the sin of saying "I'm sorry."
Friday, January 16, 2009
Loss
A week ago I drove up to Michigan for my grandfather's memorial service. Louis H. Bork died at age 86, leaving behind his wife of 61 years, Mona, along with his three children and three more grandchildren. A few things came to mind recently regarding death and loss.
First, it's easy to want to be consoled by the comforting news that Opa is in heaven now because he trusted in Jesus as his Savior from sin. (I'm not entirely certain he did, however, though I have fairly reasonable confidence.) Someone even said at the funeral that he was running around now, youthful and free. I didn't want to be a killjoy, but the biblical evidence seems to say that even those who die in Christ will not have new bodies until all God's children are gathered home and his kingdom is consummated. Our glorious and renewed bodies will be ours only as part of the final inheritance we will receive as God's sons (Romans 8:18-25). In the meantime even those who die justified will, until the Last Judgment, be only "away from the body and at home with the Lord" (2 Corinthians 5:8; cf. Philippians 1:21-24). Of course, this is "better by far"!
You see, death--even for those in Christ--isn't such a great "pathway to glory" as we make it out to be. True humanity, true life, is nothing short of being alive in both body and spirit. That's how we were created, and only when all of the material, physical, earthy cosmos is redeemed and glorified will everything be set right again. (See my older post here.)
This brings me to my second thought. I know that I've lost Opa--for now, at least. He's no longer here. But that doesn't just mean that the Bork/Hall family is down a man; it means we've all changed individually. You see, I can only be a grandson if I have a grandfather. I am no longer Louis Bork's grandson. His beloved Mona (my "Oma") is no longer his wife: "till death us do part"--and death has parted them. We are who we are by virtue of relationships; even Jesus wouldn't be a Son without having been "begotten from the Father before all worlds." There's no telling what measure of who I am in my thoughts, knowledge, worldview, abilities, character, and desires was effected by being Opa's grandson. The loss of a loved one is, for the remainder of our sojourn, a loss of ourselves as well.
First, it's easy to want to be consoled by the comforting news that Opa is in heaven now because he trusted in Jesus as his Savior from sin. (I'm not entirely certain he did, however, though I have fairly reasonable confidence.) Someone even said at the funeral that he was running around now, youthful and free. I didn't want to be a killjoy, but the biblical evidence seems to say that even those who die in Christ will not have new bodies until all God's children are gathered home and his kingdom is consummated. Our glorious and renewed bodies will be ours only as part of the final inheritance we will receive as God's sons (Romans 8:18-25). In the meantime even those who die justified will, until the Last Judgment, be only "away from the body and at home with the Lord" (2 Corinthians 5:8; cf. Philippians 1:21-24). Of course, this is "better by far"!
You see, death--even for those in Christ--isn't such a great "pathway to glory" as we make it out to be. True humanity, true life, is nothing short of being alive in both body and spirit. That's how we were created, and only when all of the material, physical, earthy cosmos is redeemed and glorified will everything be set right again. (See my older post here.)
This brings me to my second thought. I know that I've lost Opa--for now, at least. He's no longer here. But that doesn't just mean that the Bork/Hall family is down a man; it means we've all changed individually. You see, I can only be a grandson if I have a grandfather. I am no longer Louis Bork's grandson. His beloved Mona (my "Oma") is no longer his wife: "till death us do part"--and death has parted them. We are who we are by virtue of relationships; even Jesus wouldn't be a Son without having been "begotten from the Father before all worlds." There's no telling what measure of who I am in my thoughts, knowledge, worldview, abilities, character, and desires was effected by being Opa's grandson. The loss of a loved one is, for the remainder of our sojourn, a loss of ourselves as well.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Winter Wonderland
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
A Glorious Coincidence?
One of the things I've always been fascinated about when I'm studying the Bible is when I see texts--words, stories, images--tie together and unfold each other. Imagery congeals into fleshy subtance. Meaning precipitates. Events echo and reverberate. Propositions polymerize into connected chains. (Can you tell I'm a science teacher?)
One such instance occurred yesterday morning as I was reading the closing chapters of Exodus. In chapters 35-40 the erection of the tabernacle is described in detail. The tabernacle, or tent of meeting, was meant to be the site where sinful Israel would meet with her holy God--but not without a covering of blood, the life which atoned for her sin.
As its construction reached completion, the following words are recorded:
Then the following words bring the building phase to its end: "So Moses finished the work" (40:33).
As I chewed on this passage, Genesis 1:31--2:3 came to mind.
The italicized words may be a coincidence, an artefact of my overly-enthusiastic imagination. But didn't Moses pen them all? It seems to me that there is some direct and intentional parallelism going on here. But what might it mean? In creation, God finished the work he had done; he saw that it was good and blessed it with his favor and approval. When Moses saw that the people had finished the tabernacle according to God's commands, he blessed them as well.*
The story doesn't end there, though. As the sign of his approval, the Lord's radiant shekinah glory-cloud moved in to the tabernacle and took up residence, dwelling there among his people. "Then the cloud covered the tent of meeting, and the glory of the LORD filled the tabernacle" (Exodus 40:34). Whereas once he refused to meet with sinful, idolatrous Israel within the borders of her camp, opting instead for the top of Mt. Sinai or a tent of meeting outside the camp, God now moved to dwell among his people and reveal his glory there.
Does this imply that in the creation of the universe, God was preparing for himself a place to dwell as the universe's King? Or does it perhaps reveal that the tabernacle is the creation of God's new dwelling place on earth? Should the reader infer that Israel herself is the beginning of a new, redemeed creation of sorts? Taking it further, what does this mean for the church, the fullness of Israel, where God dwells with his covenant people by means of the life-offering of Jesus Christ? I haven't put a lot of thought into it beyond this, but I think it is so awesome to see these sort of connections in Scripture. To me they reveal so much; they are the lifeblood (no pun intended) of study. How much of this stuff is going on in the New Testament as it echoes and retells the Old, and we just don't see it?
"And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, 'Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God' " (Revelation 21:3).
______________
*Another thing I thought of was that in Genesis 1, God commands or speaks, and his Spirit carries it out. In Exodus 35-40, God lays out the plan for the tabernacle in his commands to Moses, and the Spirit fills Bezalel and Oholiab with the wisdom and skill needed to craft and engineer it.
One such instance occurred yesterday morning as I was reading the closing chapters of Exodus. In chapters 35-40 the erection of the tabernacle is described in detail. The tabernacle, or tent of meeting, was meant to be the site where sinful Israel would meet with her holy God--but not without a covering of blood, the life which atoned for her sin.
As its construction reached completion, the following words are recorded:
Thus all the work of the tabernacle of the tent of meeting was finished, and the people of Israel did according to all that the LORD had commanded Moses; so they did. . . . According to all that the LORD had commanded Moses, so the people of Israel had done all the work. And Moses saw all the work, and behold, they had done it; as the LORD had commanded, so had they done it. Then Moses blessed them. (39:32, 42-43 ESV)
Then the following words bring the building phase to its end: "So Moses finished the work" (40:33).
As I chewed on this passage, Genesis 1:31--2:3 came to mind.
And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day.
Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the host of them. And on the seventh day God finished his work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all his work that he had done. So God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it God rested from all his work that he had done in creation.
The italicized words may be a coincidence, an artefact of my overly-enthusiastic imagination. But didn't Moses pen them all? It seems to me that there is some direct and intentional parallelism going on here. But what might it mean? In creation, God finished the work he had done; he saw that it was good and blessed it with his favor and approval. When Moses saw that the people had finished the tabernacle according to God's commands, he blessed them as well.*
The story doesn't end there, though. As the sign of his approval, the Lord's radiant shekinah glory-cloud moved in to the tabernacle and took up residence, dwelling there among his people. "Then the cloud covered the tent of meeting, and the glory of the LORD filled the tabernacle" (Exodus 40:34). Whereas once he refused to meet with sinful, idolatrous Israel within the borders of her camp, opting instead for the top of Mt. Sinai or a tent of meeting outside the camp, God now moved to dwell among his people and reveal his glory there.
Does this imply that in the creation of the universe, God was preparing for himself a place to dwell as the universe's King? Or does it perhaps reveal that the tabernacle is the creation of God's new dwelling place on earth? Should the reader infer that Israel herself is the beginning of a new, redemeed creation of sorts? Taking it further, what does this mean for the church, the fullness of Israel, where God dwells with his covenant people by means of the life-offering of Jesus Christ? I haven't put a lot of thought into it beyond this, but I think it is so awesome to see these sort of connections in Scripture. To me they reveal so much; they are the lifeblood (no pun intended) of study. How much of this stuff is going on in the New Testament as it echoes and retells the Old, and we just don't see it?
"And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, 'Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God' " (Revelation 21:3).
______________
*Another thing I thought of was that in Genesis 1, God commands or speaks, and his Spirit carries it out. In Exodus 35-40, God lays out the plan for the tabernacle in his commands to Moses, and the Spirit fills Bezalel and Oholiab with the wisdom and skill needed to craft and engineer it.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Update 1/6/09
Man, I guess I haven't had a legitimate post on here in a while. But that may become the norm, sad to say. I haven't been reading much, and books often prove to be food for thought. Internet access is hard to come by these days--not to mention that my laptop is kaput. On top of that, I've been traveling a lot, including several days in Michigan to see my grandfather before he died last Friday.
I've actually thought very little about him over the past few days. I'm not sure why.
I didn't cry when I found out. I'm not sure why either, but I know that it has been several years since I last cried. At least I came close this time.
I've actually thought very little about him over the past few days. I'm not sure why.
I didn't cry when I found out. I'm not sure why either, but I know that it has been several years since I last cried. At least I came close this time.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Twelve Days of Christmas--a la Turka
I may have posted this in the past during my days living overseas. I don't remember. But nonetheless I think this travel article is hilarious, entertaining, and based entirely on gross generalizations about life in southern Turkey. Who knew that jolly ol' Saint Nick was from Asia Minor, eh?
Yes, Mustafa, there IS a Santa Claus!
Yes, Mustafa, there IS a Santa Claus!
Monday, December 29, 2008
Engagement Photos
Since I'm currently unable to upload some photos from the day of our engagement, you can check out a few that her mom posted at her site.
http://susanakahalfmom.blogspot.com/2008/12/among-other-things.html
Isn't Olivia beautiful?
http://susanakahalfmom.blogspot.com/2008/12/among-other-things.html
Isn't Olivia beautiful?
Saturday, December 20, 2008
We're engaged!
Old news is betters than no news, so . . .
Here's how it happened:
Last Saturday, December 13, we were going to go into the city for my birthday (Dec. 16). I had originally wanted to go ice skating at Millenium Park for my "birthday," because one of the first things Olivia and I did together was she taught me how to ice skate.
Well, as it turned out, the weather was awful: 38 degrees with sleet and wind gusts of up to 40 mph. So we had a quick change of plans: we went to a European bookstore near Loyola's watertower campus, and then we took the El to Olivia's surprise birthday gift for me: a splendid Turkish restaurant on Belmont near Halsted and Clark. The food was excellent, and I even got to speak some Turkish with the waiter.
As our meal progressed, Olivia said, "You're awfully quiet. Is there something on your mind?" (Duh!) I pulled out a flyer from an antique store in Richmond's Carytown district which we had visited back in March. I then read to her a journal entry from that day, how that had really turned around our relationship and showed me how wonderful she really is. Then, to commemorate that day, I pulled out an "early Christmas gift" I had purchased from that antique store: an inlaid soapstone jewelry box. However, I set it aside and told her she couldn't open it yet. (Good work, Susan, on the black velveteen gift bag!)
Then I read Olivia another journal entry about two times when she had held out her hand to me, which meant the world to me. The first time it was to encourage, challenge, and coach me; the second was to offer her forgiveness, reconcilation, and acceptance.
After this, I got down on my right knee (well, technically I got up on my knee, since we were sitting on the floor on pillows), opened the jewelry box which contained the engagement ring, and offered her my hand. I told her I wanted to be hers for the rest of my life and then asked her to marry me. With a tone of voice that spoke in glad confidence and resolution, she replied, "Yes, yes, absolutely yes."
I took the ring out of the box and put it on her left ring finger. Not knowing exactly what to do next, we both sort of just stayed there, smiling and squeezing one another's hand. But I could've stayed in that moment forever.
Every day I think now, She's going to be my wife in a matter of months! We'll get to spend every day of the rest of our lives together, and we'll never need to leave each other. It just blows my mind. It's the first thing I think about when I wake up and when I go to bed. I am filled with awe, wonder, and gratitude to God when I think of what a gift she is and of the holy mystery that is marriage.
______________
P.S. For whatever reason, Blogger is not allowing me to upload photos properly right now, and it's doing all kinds of screwy stuff with the line spacing. I'll try to get some photos posted at some time in the new year. In the meantime I'll be traveling all over the U.S. to spend Christmas with family.
OLIVIA SAID SHE'LL MARRY ME!
Here's how it happened:
Last Saturday, December 13, we were going to go into the city for my birthday (Dec. 16). I had originally wanted to go ice skating at Millenium Park for my "birthday," because one of the first things Olivia and I did together was she taught me how to ice skate.
Well, as it turned out, the weather was awful: 38 degrees with sleet and wind gusts of up to 40 mph. So we had a quick change of plans: we went to a European bookstore near Loyola's watertower campus, and then we took the El to Olivia's surprise birthday gift for me: a splendid Turkish restaurant on Belmont near Halsted and Clark. The food was excellent, and I even got to speak some Turkish with the waiter.
As our meal progressed, Olivia said, "You're awfully quiet. Is there something on your mind?" (Duh!) I pulled out a flyer from an antique store in Richmond's Carytown district which we had visited back in March. I then read to her a journal entry from that day, how that had really turned around our relationship and showed me how wonderful she really is. Then, to commemorate that day, I pulled out an "early Christmas gift" I had purchased from that antique store: an inlaid soapstone jewelry box. However, I set it aside and told her she couldn't open it yet. (Good work, Susan, on the black velveteen gift bag!)
Then I read Olivia another journal entry about two times when she had held out her hand to me, which meant the world to me. The first time it was to encourage, challenge, and coach me; the second was to offer her forgiveness, reconcilation, and acceptance.
After this, I got down on my right knee (well, technically I got up on my knee, since we were sitting on the floor on pillows), opened the jewelry box which contained the engagement ring, and offered her my hand. I told her I wanted to be hers for the rest of my life and then asked her to marry me. With a tone of voice that spoke in glad confidence and resolution, she replied, "Yes, yes, absolutely yes."
I took the ring out of the box and put it on her left ring finger. Not knowing exactly what to do next, we both sort of just stayed there, smiling and squeezing one another's hand. But I could've stayed in that moment forever.
Every day I think now, She's going to be my wife in a matter of months! We'll get to spend every day of the rest of our lives together, and we'll never need to leave each other. It just blows my mind. It's the first thing I think about when I wake up and when I go to bed. I am filled with awe, wonder, and gratitude to God when I think of what a gift she is and of the holy mystery that is marriage.
______________
P.S. For whatever reason, Blogger is not allowing me to upload photos properly right now, and it's doing all kinds of screwy stuff with the line spacing. I'll try to get some photos posted at some time in the new year. In the meantime I'll be traveling all over the U.S. to spend Christmas with family.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Advent: God Drawing Near
It's almost inescapable: Christmas is celebrated with placid pastoral scenes of a babe cradled in a bed of straw, with his adoring parents around him beaming. (Of course, in many nativity scenes, the holy family are literally beaming with light!) We think it's a time of good cheer and peacefulness, a time of repose, a time to say, "no more worries." And all that it is. But as I've been studying Exodus over the past few months, the picture painted there of God-come-down is entirely different.
When the God of the heavens tore open the heavens and came down to meet with his chosen people, he came as "a consuming fire" (24:17). "Our God comes and will not be silent," attests the psalmist. "A fire devours before him, and around him a tempest rages" (Psalm 50:3). God coming to Earth is not a welcome sight for most people. Just ask King David!
In the same sermon from 1928 which I quoted from earlier, Dietrich Bonhoeffer says much the same--that the fearful event of God-among-us should lead Advent to be a time of self-examination.
It's difficult for me to keep this in mind, when I've got 27 Christmases of warmth and cheer behind me. But perhaps only when we consider this, pondering it in wonder and awe, will the child who becomes the Prince of Peace really be good news.
On the morning of the third day there was thunder and lightning, with a thick cloudover the mountain, and a very loud trumpet blast. Everyone in the camp trembled. Then Moses led the people out of the camp to meet with God, and they stood at the foot of the mountain. Mount Sinai was covered with smoke, because the LORD descended on it in fire. The smoke billowed up from it like smoke from a furnace, the whole mountain trembled violently, and the sound of the trumpet grew louder and louder. Then Moses spoke and the voice of God answered him. (Exodus 19:16-19)
When the God of the heavens tore open the heavens and came down to meet with his chosen people, he came as "a consuming fire" (24:17). "Our God comes and will not be silent," attests the psalmist. "A fire devours before him, and around him a tempest rages" (Psalm 50:3). God coming to Earth is not a welcome sight for most people. Just ask King David!
In the same sermon from 1928 which I quoted from earlier, Dietrich Bonhoeffer says much the same--that the fearful event of God-among-us should lead Advent to be a time of self-examination.
Perhaps, after all, Advent is a time for self-examination before we open the door [to Christ]. When we stop to consider, the contrast between those early Christians and us is extraordinary. They trembled at the thought of God coming, of the day of the Lord, when Jesus, "Judge eternal, throned in splendor," would shatter the complacency of all the world. But we take the thought of God coming among us so calmly. It is all the more remarkable when we remember that we so often associate the signs of God in the world with human suffering, the cross on Golgotha. Perhaps we have thought so much of God as love eternal and we feel the warm pleasures of Christmas when he comes gently like a child. We have been shielded from the awful nature of Christmas and no longer feel afraid at the coming near of God Almighty. We have selected from the Christmas story only the pleasant bits, forgetting the awesome nature of an event in which the God of the universe, its Creator and Sustainer, draws near to this little planet, and now speaks to us. The coming of God is not only a message of joy, but also fearful news for anyone who has a conscience.
It's difficult for me to keep this in mind, when I've got 27 Christmases of warmth and cheer behind me. But perhaps only when we consider this, pondering it in wonder and awe, will the child who becomes the Prince of Peace really be good news.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
(Not) Advent: Rilke on Waiting
Okay, so this isn't exactly either Advent-related or even Christian-related, for that matter. But in view of the Bonhoeffer quote from my previous post, I thought I'd add this quote which I've always taken to heart. It's from the early twentieth-century German poet Rainer Maria Rilke, in his Letters to a Young Poet (letter 4, July 16, 1903).
Since the time an education professor of mine at Michigan State first shared this with us, I've found a bit of comfort in this. Questions and uncertainty and waiting are okay, Rilke exhorts us. Moreover, they're something to be lived through, involved in, and borne with patience. In my own life, I think that it has been times of uncertainty, longing, and wonder--those liminal moments when I stand on the threshold of a significant decision and must take a step in one direction or another--when I most live in fear-of-the-Lord. And that's when I feel the most alive.
Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.
Since the time an education professor of mine at Michigan State first shared this with us, I've found a bit of comfort in this. Questions and uncertainty and waiting are okay, Rilke exhorts us. Moreover, they're something to be lived through, involved in, and borne with patience. In my own life, I think that it has been times of uncertainty, longing, and wonder--those liminal moments when I stand on the threshold of a significant decision and must take a step in one direction or another--when I most live in fear-of-the-Lord. And that's when I feel the most alive.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Advent: Bonhoeffer on Waiting
Celebrating Advent means learning how to wait. Waiting is an art which our impatient age has forgotten. We want to pluck the fruit before it has had time to ripen. Greedy eyes are soon disappointed when what they saw as luscious fruit is sour to the taste. In disappointment and disgust they throw it away. The fruit, full of promise, rots on the ground. It is rejected without thanks by disappointed hands.
The blessedness of waiting is lost on those who cannot wait, and the fulfillment of promise is never theirs. They want quick answers to the deepest questions of life and miss the value of those times of anxious waiting, seeking with patient uncertainties until the answers come. They lose the moment when the answers are revealed with dazzling clarity.
Who has not felt the anxieties of waiting for the declaration of friendship or love? The greatest, the deepest, the most tender experiences in all the world demand patient waiting. This waiting is not in emotional turmoil, but gently growing, like the emergence of spring, like God's laws,* like the germinating of a seed.
Not all can wait--certainly not those who are satisfied, contented, and feel that they live in the best of all possible worlds! Those who learn to wait are uneasy about their way of life, but yet have seen a vision of greatness in the world of the future and are patiently expecting its fulfillment. The celebration of Advent is possible only to those who are troubled in soul, who know themselves to be poor and imperfect, and who look forward to something greater to come. For these, it is enough to wait in humble fear until the Holy One himself comes down to us, God in the child in the manger. God comes. The Lord Jesus comes. Christmas comes. Christians rejoice!
In a few weeks we shall hear that cry of triumph. . . . But, not so quick! It is still in the distance. It calls us to learn to wait and to wait aright.
The blessedness of waiting is lost on those who cannot wait, and the fulfillment of promise is never theirs. They want quick answers to the deepest questions of life and miss the value of those times of anxious waiting, seeking with patient uncertainties until the answers come. They lose the moment when the answers are revealed with dazzling clarity.
Who has not felt the anxieties of waiting for the declaration of friendship or love? The greatest, the deepest, the most tender experiences in all the world demand patient waiting. This waiting is not in emotional turmoil, but gently growing, like the emergence of spring, like God's laws,* like the germinating of a seed.
Not all can wait--certainly not those who are satisfied, contented, and feel that they live in the best of all possible worlds! Those who learn to wait are uneasy about their way of life, but yet have seen a vision of greatness in the world of the future and are patiently expecting its fulfillment. The celebration of Advent is possible only to those who are troubled in soul, who know themselves to be poor and imperfect, and who look forward to something greater to come. For these, it is enough to wait in humble fear until the Holy One himself comes down to us, God in the child in the manger. God comes. The Lord Jesus comes. Christmas comes. Christians rejoice!
In a few weeks we shall hear that cry of triumph. . . . But, not so quick! It is still in the distance. It calls us to learn to wait and to wait aright.
-- Dietrich Bonhoeffer, from a sermon delivered in Barcelona on Dec. 2, 1928.
Text: Revelation 3:20
______________
*Presumably Bonhoeffer means the laws that govern the natural order.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Giving Thanks
Every class period of mine begins with five minutes for a "warm-up" question or prompt to help establish a routine, transition students' focus from the hallway chatter to the lesson, and either to review yesterday's main point or to set up the day's lesson. But yesterday I asked everyone to write down a few things they were grateful for. But if I was sitting in that desk, here's what I'd have written:
I'm thankful for . . .
. . . probably very little, actually. The Holy Spirit urges that we are to be thankful for everything and in every circumstance (Ephesians 5:20; Colossians 2:7; 3:15-18; 1 Thessalonians 5:18). I usually complain or, perhaps more usually, take things for granted instead of acknowledging that I owe my very existence to God. All I am and possess I have received from him. "What do you have that you did not receive? And if you did receive it, why do you boast as though you did not?" (1 Corithians 4:7).
. . . forgiveness of my every trespass, justification, and full-bodied righteousness as free gifts; entrance into the kingdom of God; the guarantee of the Holy Spirit; the sure intheritance of life everlasting in the dwelling place of God.
. . . one year with my wonderful girlfriend Olivia. We can have fun together, whether it's a water fight, playing catch, or looking at paintings. We can pray together--and she is sure teaching me to pray God's Word back to him. We're slowly learning to listen to one another and to communicate. We can encourage each other and "speak the truth in love." We can even do nothing together! Plus she's "pretty darn attractive," I might add.
. . . not going crazy upon moving from Virginia to the Prairie State.
. . . a job where I'm able to be challenged as an educator without being placed under extreme duress or in a hazardous situation.
. . . health insurance and a steady paycheck.
. . . the Spinas' extended hospitality.
. . . another autumn, even if not as beautiful as earlier ones.
. . . a new apartment that is big enough--and for furniture from some generous donors!
. . . parents who are still married and who listen to me (and for one other "parent" who also listens and counsels me).
. . . grilled cheese sandwiches and Campbell's cream of tomato soup.
. . . flavorful beers.
. . . the pale winter light and skeletal, barren trees. The dim lavenders, umbers, ashes, and straws brushed across the horizontal landscape are increasingly beautiful to behold.
. . . friendships both new and old.
. . . the fact that I not only own one Bible, but in fact several.
. . . my ability to read and think, to understand directions, and to dissect written material. I'm learning from my students never to take any simple task for granted.
Oh, and lest we forget, we owe this entire Thanksgiving holiday to a boatfull of crazy Calvinists who made their way across the vast Atlantic to pursue true worship of God. Oops, did I say that?
I'm thankful for . . .
. . . probably very little, actually. The Holy Spirit urges that we are to be thankful for everything and in every circumstance (Ephesians 5:20; Colossians 2:7; 3:15-18; 1 Thessalonians 5:18). I usually complain or, perhaps more usually, take things for granted instead of acknowledging that I owe my very existence to God. All I am and possess I have received from him. "What do you have that you did not receive? And if you did receive it, why do you boast as though you did not?" (1 Corithians 4:7).
. . . forgiveness of my every trespass, justification, and full-bodied righteousness as free gifts; entrance into the kingdom of God; the guarantee of the Holy Spirit; the sure intheritance of life everlasting in the dwelling place of God.
. . . one year with my wonderful girlfriend Olivia. We can have fun together, whether it's a water fight, playing catch, or looking at paintings. We can pray together--and she is sure teaching me to pray God's Word back to him. We're slowly learning to listen to one another and to communicate. We can encourage each other and "speak the truth in love." We can even do nothing together! Plus she's "pretty darn attractive," I might add.
. . . not going crazy upon moving from Virginia to the Prairie State.
. . . a job where I'm able to be challenged as an educator without being placed under extreme duress or in a hazardous situation.
. . . health insurance and a steady paycheck.
. . . the Spinas' extended hospitality.
. . . another autumn, even if not as beautiful as earlier ones.
. . . a new apartment that is big enough--and for furniture from some generous donors!
. . . parents who are still married and who listen to me (and for one other "parent" who also listens and counsels me).
. . . grilled cheese sandwiches and Campbell's cream of tomato soup.
. . . flavorful beers.
. . . the pale winter light and skeletal, barren trees. The dim lavenders, umbers, ashes, and straws brushed across the horizontal landscape are increasingly beautiful to behold.
. . . friendships both new and old.
. . . the fact that I not only own one Bible, but in fact several.
. . . my ability to read and think, to understand directions, and to dissect written material. I'm learning from my students never to take any simple task for granted.
Oh, and lest we forget, we owe this entire Thanksgiving holiday to a boatfull of crazy Calvinists who made their way across the vast Atlantic to pursue true worship of God. Oops, did I say that?
Friday, November 21, 2008
Why Are Calvinists So Negative?
Ted clued me in to a brief commentary by John Piper titled "Why Are Calvinists So Negative?" Piper, a pastor of Bethlehem Baptist Church in Minneapolis, is a self-declared "seven-point Calvinist" (!).
Read it here.
Although I think a better title would be, "Why are Calvinists Often Perceived as Negative?," I think that there's a lot of value in what he says. I think Piper's comments are apropos (yes, Olivia, there's that word again) and frank, given his own stance on soteriology. His three main reasons why Calvinists can be perceived as negative are:
1) The doctrines of grace have an intellectual coherence that attracts logic-oriented people, who tend to operater more in the realm of the mind than of the heart. Therefore they (we) can often be less people-sensitive and, consequently, argumentative.
2) Upon seeing the "doctrines of grace" in the Bible--which really are there, I believe--Calvinists can become upset that they were never taught this stuff their whole lives in the church. They're upset they missed out, and they can be angry that other pastors and churches failed to clearly set forth the wonders of dead people made alive.
3) They try to convince others of the truths they so cherish. The problem is, they're not always tactful and gentle about it, thinking that "converts" can be made by argumentation rather than by the Holy Spirit. (Piper does add, though, that others are just as sinful, that is, sinfully reluctant to acknowledge the teachings of Scripture.)
I that any way we cut it, anyone who takes a stand for his convictions--theological, political, economic, or whatever--will be unpopular. No one likes to be challenged, and ideas are easy to avoid if they're mere transient, flimsy opinions. But inasmuch as we are in fact able to know the Scriptures through the gracious breath of God's Holy Spirit interpreting his Word to us, the fact is--and it's difficult for me to admit this--we now see only "in a mirror dimly." We know the God of grace and the unveiling of his mystery only by incomplete, imperfect prophecies. Only when we are taken home to glory shall we know face to face. (See 1 Corinthians 13:8-13.) Until then, let us rest content with the tensions of Scripture--in hope!
Read it here.
Although I think a better title would be, "Why are Calvinists Often Perceived as Negative?," I think that there's a lot of value in what he says. I think Piper's comments are apropos (yes, Olivia, there's that word again) and frank, given his own stance on soteriology. His three main reasons why Calvinists can be perceived as negative are:
1) The doctrines of grace have an intellectual coherence that attracts logic-oriented people, who tend to operater more in the realm of the mind than of the heart. Therefore they (we) can often be less people-sensitive and, consequently, argumentative.
2) Upon seeing the "doctrines of grace" in the Bible--which really are there, I believe--Calvinists can become upset that they were never taught this stuff their whole lives in the church. They're upset they missed out, and they can be angry that other pastors and churches failed to clearly set forth the wonders of dead people made alive.
3) They try to convince others of the truths they so cherish. The problem is, they're not always tactful and gentle about it, thinking that "converts" can be made by argumentation rather than by the Holy Spirit. (Piper does add, though, that others are just as sinful, that is, sinfully reluctant to acknowledge the teachings of Scripture.)
I that any way we cut it, anyone who takes a stand for his convictions--theological, political, economic, or whatever--will be unpopular. No one likes to be challenged, and ideas are easy to avoid if they're mere transient, flimsy opinions. But inasmuch as we are in fact able to know the Scriptures through the gracious breath of God's Holy Spirit interpreting his Word to us, the fact is--and it's difficult for me to admit this--we now see only "in a mirror dimly." We know the God of grace and the unveiling of his mystery only by incomplete, imperfect prophecies. Only when we are taken home to glory shall we know face to face. (See 1 Corinthians 13:8-13.) Until then, let us rest content with the tensions of Scripture--in hope!
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Taking the Name in Vain
In Bible Study Fellowship this past week, we studied Exodus 19-20: YHWH descending upon Sinai in a fiery maelstrom to deliver the Ten Words to Israel.* The third (or second, if you're Lutheran) commandment stopped me and made me think a bit. "You shall not misuse the name of the LORD your God, for the LORD will not hold guitless anyone who misuses his name" (20:7, NIV). This makes it seem like what is forbidden is to use God's name to curse someone, or to make oaths in a cavalier fashion, or to elevate your own teaching's authority by claiming the name of God.
Older translations, however, phrase the commandment as "You shall not take the name of the LORD your God in vain." Could this mean something different? I recalled an old podcast sermon by Jeff Oschwald about this commandment in which he said "taking God's name" was to be called by God's name--to belong to him or to identify with him. Women take their husband's names at the wedding rite. In a few months Barack Obama will take the name President Obama.
So could it be an altogether different thing than simply employing God's name in an unworthy manner? Certainly this interpretation would still make sense. But could it be that as the new nation Israel was coming under a new status as the living God's "treasured possession," his "kingdom of priests," and his "holy nation" (Exodus 19:5), that they had therein also "taken on" God's name? To them alone had Yahweh revealed himself truly; and it was Israel alone who could say they were the one people set apart by God. They had his promises and his Law by which they were to live, with all the resources of the Almighty backing them. How could they take such a name in vain--that is, to no profit--by turning back on God and forsaking his Law in culpable disbelief and rebellion?
In the same way, all of us baptized into the church have been baptized into (eis) the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. We have a new name; we're called Christ-ians, those who belong to Christ and live under his kingship. Could this third commandment mean for us today not to disbelieve the God-reality, the salvation-reality, we're baptized into? To turn our backs on God, to love sin more than the Master who bought us (2 Peter 2:1), to fail to come to the obedience of faith despite all that is pledged to us?
I'm not saying that all who are baptized are necessarily "saved." First Corinthians 10 dispels that myth; many will "fall in the desert." But in the church, where we go by the name Christian, we have so many benefits that the rest of the world lacks: preaching of God's Word and the "visible word" of the sacraments, the love and prayers of the saints, the revealing of heaven in worship, the presence of the Holy Spirit, church discipline, and so on.
Anyway . . . it's just a curious thought. And how often my thoughts get me into trouble!
___________
*The ten "words" take the form of ten "covenant stipulations" by which Israel was to pledge her loyalty to her Redeemer and Sovereign, who brought them out of Egypt's slavery and delivered them from the plague of death.
Older translations, however, phrase the commandment as "You shall not take the name of the LORD your God in vain." Could this mean something different? I recalled an old podcast sermon by Jeff Oschwald about this commandment in which he said "taking God's name" was to be called by God's name--to belong to him or to identify with him. Women take their husband's names at the wedding rite. In a few months Barack Obama will take the name President Obama.
So could it be an altogether different thing than simply employing God's name in an unworthy manner? Certainly this interpretation would still make sense. But could it be that as the new nation Israel was coming under a new status as the living God's "treasured possession," his "kingdom of priests," and his "holy nation" (Exodus 19:5), that they had therein also "taken on" God's name? To them alone had Yahweh revealed himself truly; and it was Israel alone who could say they were the one people set apart by God. They had his promises and his Law by which they were to live, with all the resources of the Almighty backing them. How could they take such a name in vain--that is, to no profit--by turning back on God and forsaking his Law in culpable disbelief and rebellion?
In the same way, all of us baptized into the church have been baptized into (eis) the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. We have a new name; we're called Christ-ians, those who belong to Christ and live under his kingship. Could this third commandment mean for us today not to disbelieve the God-reality, the salvation-reality, we're baptized into? To turn our backs on God, to love sin more than the Master who bought us (2 Peter 2:1), to fail to come to the obedience of faith despite all that is pledged to us?
I'm not saying that all who are baptized are necessarily "saved." First Corinthians 10 dispels that myth; many will "fall in the desert." But in the church, where we go by the name Christian, we have so many benefits that the rest of the world lacks: preaching of God's Word and the "visible word" of the sacraments, the love and prayers of the saints, the revealing of heaven in worship, the presence of the Holy Spirit, church discipline, and so on.
Anyway . . . it's just a curious thought. And how often my thoughts get me into trouble!
___________
*The ten "words" take the form of ten "covenant stipulations" by which Israel was to pledge her loyalty to her Redeemer and Sovereign, who brought them out of Egypt's slavery and delivered them from the plague of death.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
New Grading Policy
I told this to my students today. Seriously.
"Starting January 20th, I'm going to have a new grading policy. No one really needs above an 85%. That's a solid B, which is good enough. In fact, if you got above a 90% (A), you probably did something disingenuous to get that grade. So from January 20 onward, I'm going to take points away from anyone above an 85% and give them to failing students with scores below 60%. That way everyone can pass whether they have earned it or not."
The response was hilarious. A few students thought it was a good idea. (Can you guess which ones?) The majority, however, thought it was ludicrous and totally unfair. One said, "Well, in that case, I'll just quit trying to do any better than an 85." Another commented, "If I can't fail, then why should I care? This is great."
When I told my students I was only joking, a few of them--very few of them--caught on to my pun.
I then asked students in my third-period chemistry class, "If you paid someone $75 for new shoes, did they scam you and rip you off? Do they owe you money back, since they're now $75 wealthier, and you're $75 poorer?" They all said no, that it was fair for them to receive the money in exchange for the shoes. Everyone benefited. So why is it that we think it's unfair when someone sells a lot of shoes to willing customers? Why does he suddenly owe everyone else?
"Starting January 20th, I'm going to have a new grading policy. No one really needs above an 85%. That's a solid B, which is good enough. In fact, if you got above a 90% (A), you probably did something disingenuous to get that grade. So from January 20 onward, I'm going to take points away from anyone above an 85% and give them to failing students with scores below 60%. That way everyone can pass whether they have earned it or not."
The response was hilarious. A few students thought it was a good idea. (Can you guess which ones?) The majority, however, thought it was ludicrous and totally unfair. One said, "Well, in that case, I'll just quit trying to do any better than an 85." Another commented, "If I can't fail, then why should I care? This is great."
When I told my students I was only joking, a few of them--very few of them--caught on to my pun.
I then asked students in my third-period chemistry class, "If you paid someone $75 for new shoes, did they scam you and rip you off? Do they owe you money back, since they're now $75 wealthier, and you're $75 poorer?" They all said no, that it was fair for them to receive the money in exchange for the shoes. Everyone benefited. So why is it that we think it's unfair when someone sells a lot of shoes to willing customers? Why does he suddenly owe everyone else?
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Stayin' alive
Yes, I'm still around, folks. I'm just darn busy. (And I don't mean that I'm repairing my hole-riddled socks.) I've been busy with what I frankly see as much more important matters: talking with friends and wise brothers and sisters, spending precious time with my girlfriend in some pretty rough days of hers, getting schoolwork done, et cetera.
But in the meantime, here is a wonderful quote from John Frame:
But in the meantime, here is a wonderful quote from John Frame:
Sometimes in the Scriptures, "knowing" a person refers mainly to knowing facts about him, but most often it means being involved with him either as a friend or as an enemy . . . . When Scripture speaks of God "knowing" men, generally the reference is not to factual knowledge at all (since it goes without saying that God knows the facts). In such contexts, knowing generally means "loving" or "befriending" . . . .
Man's knowledge of God, then, is very similar to God's knowledge of man. To know Him is to be involved with Him as a friend or as an enemy. For the believer, to know Him is to love Him--hence the strong emphasis on obedience (as we have seen) as a constitutive aspect of the knowledge of God. Here, however, we wish to focus on the fact that the God whom we know and whom we love is of necessity present with us, and therefore our relationship with Him is a truly personal one. The intimacy of love assumes the present reality of the beloved.
--The Doctrine of the Knowledge of God, pp. 46-47.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
The Problem of Autonomy with Solo Scriptura
In a few recent posts, I've been trying to show how the idea of sola scriptura, "Scripture alone," has become twisted somewhat into solo scriptura, "Scripture only," that is, abandoning the church's confessions and creeds in interpreting the Bible. It may seem like solo scriptura is the ultimately commitment to the authority of the Bible. It sounds good to say, "I believe the Bible" or "I have no creed but Christ," rather than saying, "I believe the Nicene Creed" or "I believe the Augsburg Confession." However, this has had profound affects on how we determine doctrinal "truth."
One person can study the Scriptures and become a Calvinist who believes that the Bible teaches one people of God united throughout history by a single, overarching covenant of grace. At the same time, his neighbor can study his Bible and become a dispensationalist who believes that the Jews and Gentiles have separate ways to God (obedience to the Mosaic Law vs. faith in Christ, respectively) and are not direct heirs of the same promises of redemption. Both people study the Bible. Both may even have exegetical skill, and both may live obedient, prayerful lives. How does this happen? (I could make some joke that the dispensationalist's exegetical abilities are a bit lacking, but I'll hold off.) The same could be said for people who believe in the Trinity and the complete deity-and-humanity of Jesus Christ and for those people who, conversely, are modalists, unitarians, or Arians. Everyone is studying the same Bible and backing their beliefs with biblical proof-texts. So there are clearly some flaws to this solo scriptura approach.
Autonomy.
First off, if the Church (whether its collective councils or the preaching of your pastor) is denied any authority at all, then the only place left to find what Scripture "really" says is in my own individual study of the Bible. Only what I find to be true is binding upon me, and no one else can tell me that the Bible might actually teach something other than what I actually perceive in its texts. After all, since we have "Scripture only," no one else's interpretations are any more binding than my own understandings--and they certainly can't hold a match to the very words which I am reading on the page right now.
But if the Christian next door reads those same texts and comes up with a different, even contradictory, interpretation, how can this be reconciled? After all, each of us, "just me and my Bible and the Holy Spirit" came up with totally different conclusions about its meaning. If all of Scripture is breathed out by the same God of truth who never changes, lies, or deceives (cf. 2 Timothy 3:16; 2 Peter 1:20-21), how can these contradictions be reconciled if both of us are right?
The logical outcome of this way of viewing the Bible is that final interpretive authority lies with me and no one outside of me. I measure the validity of all other interpretations against the standard of my own interpretation. Now, it is well and good that, to parrot Luther's words, our consciences be captive to the Word of God as we are addressed by it, for to betray one's conscience is indeed sin (Romans 14:23). But do we really believe that all of a sudden, my own autonomous declaration on the Bible's meaning is elevated beyond the collective understanding of Spirit-guided saints throughout two millenia of Christian history? Didn't Jesus actually promise that he would be with his church by his Spirit through all ages (Matthew 28:20)?
Does anyone really believe that what others say and teach has no real importance, as long as we're not convinced of it ourselves? Are historic, widespread understandings such as the virgin birth of the Messiah really of no account or authority, since all they are is someone else's opinion, anyway?
Now, I'm aware that I'm perhaps pressing this beyond what people consciously think as they interpret the Bible. I don't think many Christians at all would ever knowingly say, "Yes, my own interpretations and judgments are, in fact, the standard, because traditions and the teachings of others carry no authority; there is only Scripture's very words." I'm just taking this to its logical extent for the sake of illustration.
One person can study the Scriptures and become a Calvinist who believes that the Bible teaches one people of God united throughout history by a single, overarching covenant of grace. At the same time, his neighbor can study his Bible and become a dispensationalist who believes that the Jews and Gentiles have separate ways to God (obedience to the Mosaic Law vs. faith in Christ, respectively) and are not direct heirs of the same promises of redemption. Both people study the Bible. Both may even have exegetical skill, and both may live obedient, prayerful lives. How does this happen? (I could make some joke that the dispensationalist's exegetical abilities are a bit lacking, but I'll hold off.) The same could be said for people who believe in the Trinity and the complete deity-and-humanity of Jesus Christ and for those people who, conversely, are modalists, unitarians, or Arians. Everyone is studying the same Bible and backing their beliefs with biblical proof-texts. So there are clearly some flaws to this solo scriptura approach.
Autonomy.
First off, if the Church (whether its collective councils or the preaching of your pastor) is denied any authority at all, then the only place left to find what Scripture "really" says is in my own individual study of the Bible. Only what I find to be true is binding upon me, and no one else can tell me that the Bible might actually teach something other than what I actually perceive in its texts. After all, since we have "Scripture only," no one else's interpretations are any more binding than my own understandings--and they certainly can't hold a match to the very words which I am reading on the page right now.
But if the Christian next door reads those same texts and comes up with a different, even contradictory, interpretation, how can this be reconciled? After all, each of us, "just me and my Bible and the Holy Spirit" came up with totally different conclusions about its meaning. If all of Scripture is breathed out by the same God of truth who never changes, lies, or deceives (cf. 2 Timothy 3:16; 2 Peter 1:20-21), how can these contradictions be reconciled if both of us are right?
The logical outcome of this way of viewing the Bible is that final interpretive authority lies with me and no one outside of me. I measure the validity of all other interpretations against the standard of my own interpretation. Now, it is well and good that, to parrot Luther's words, our consciences be captive to the Word of God as we are addressed by it, for to betray one's conscience is indeed sin (Romans 14:23). But do we really believe that all of a sudden, my own autonomous declaration on the Bible's meaning is elevated beyond the collective understanding of Spirit-guided saints throughout two millenia of Christian history? Didn't Jesus actually promise that he would be with his church by his Spirit through all ages (Matthew 28:20)?
Does anyone really believe that what others say and teach has no real importance, as long as we're not convinced of it ourselves? Are historic, widespread understandings such as the virgin birth of the Messiah really of no account or authority, since all they are is someone else's opinion, anyway?
Now, I'm aware that I'm perhaps pressing this beyond what people consciously think as they interpret the Bible. I don't think many Christians at all would ever knowingly say, "Yes, my own interpretations and judgments are, in fact, the standard, because traditions and the teachings of others carry no authority; there is only Scripture's very words." I'm just taking this to its logical extent for the sake of illustration.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Socialism vs. the Meaning of Money
I'm sorry, but I just have to post this. It's absolutely brilliant. It is a "must-read" before you vote on Tuesday.
"Do the Rich Owe Us?"
Also, you may wish to check out my former housemate Anthony's article, "Was the Early Church Socialist?" here.
"Do the Rich Owe Us?"
Also, you may wish to check out my former housemate Anthony's article, "Was the Early Church Socialist?" here.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)