Friday, December 10, 2010

Shame, shame, shame

On April 12, 1865, the Confederate army under General Lee surrendered to the union forces at Appomattox courthouse. Only days before the armies had been in pitched battle, and were exhausted and dirty. As Michael Schuck puts it, "The potential for humiliation was almost intolerable for the Confederates, and the opportunity for venting pent-up rage and ridicule was almost irresistible for the union."

Union Commander Joshua Chamberlain (above) was given the task of receiving the surrendering army. It was in this tense moment that Chamberlain gave the order for his troops to salute their enemies, a salute returned by the Confederate soldiers. As Chamberlain later recalled, his salute was
one for which I sought no authority nor asked forgiveness... Before us in proud humiliation... stood the embodiment of manhood... Men whom neither toils and sufferings, nor the fact of death, nor disaster, nor hopelessness could bend from their resolve; standing before us now thin, worn, famished, but erect, and with eyes looking level into ours, waking memories that bound us together as no other bond.[1]
It is impossible to read this without feeling keenly the honor and shame which hung thick in the air--shame at the Confederate defeat, and honor bestowed in the salute to enemies who had fought valiantly.

The concepts of honor and shame do not play a large role in our culture. They are most visible in the military context, but elsewhere feel foreign. Sociologists have long noted that cultures tend to fall into two categories: those with an emphasis on honor and shame, and those with emphasis on guilt and innocence. In guilt-innocence cultures, conscience plays an important role in determining individual action. In honor-shame cultures a high value is placed on retention of one's good reputation, and that of one's family (city, country, etc.). Guilt tends to be a more internal motivation than shame, and shame more dependent on the actions and attitudes of the group. "Shame cultures" differ from "guilt cultures" in that their members are group-oriented and governed in their attitudes and actions primarily by the opinion and appraisals of significant others.

Of course, there is really a continuum of emphasis between these two extremes, with the West lying far in the guilt-innocence direction, and Eastern and near-Eastern cultures generally occupying the shame-honor end of the spectrum. In the first century, both Roman and Jewish cultures placed a very high priority on honor, shame and status.

Rising out of Jewish culture and, for the NT, surrounded by Greco-Roman culture, the Bible also has a central theme of honor and shame. This is a topic introduced beautifully in a chapter of Timothy Tennent's book, Theology in the Context of World Christianity (320 pp., $11.99, Zondervan, 2007): In the OT, in the Garden of Eden Adam and Eve feel shame at their disobedience; the Psalmists regularly call on God to shame their enemies (40:14-15; 78:66); God shames pagan deities (e.g. 1 Sam 5:3-4); Zion's future glory is described in the language of honor and shame ("Do not be afraid; you will not suffer shame…", Isa 54:5); the shame associated with nakedness (Gen 37:3).

In the Gospels, the dishonest manager is too ashamed to beg; Jesus instructs his disciples not to take places of honor lest they be demoted and suffer shame; etc. Both father and younger son suffer shame in the Prodigal Son and yet the father's forgiveness restores the son's honor. In fact, the wording does not indicate the older son is angered by the father's forgiveness, but because the younger brother is shown honor despite having brought shame on the family. Another passage in which the honor-shame dynamic is central is Jesus' parable of the two sons asked by their father to work in the vineyard, one of whom refused, but then worked anyway. Westerners tend to overlook the tension added by the refusal, which publicly shames the father. In the culture of Jesus' day, it was better not to shame the father, even at the cost of not doing the work.

Paul's letters also show the importance of honor and shame. In 1 Cor, for instance, Paul describes God's use of the foolish things of this world in order to shame the strong. An awareness of this theme sheds light on Col 2:15, which describes how, "At the very hour of Jesus' public shame on the cross, he was actually in the process of shaming his enemies, disarming the powers and authorities and making 'a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross.'" Paul reverses the shame of the cross, both in Jesus' life and his followers, declaring that "before God we are actually being 'led in triumphal procession in Christ' (2 Cor 2:14), and what appears to be the 'smell of death' is actually the 'fragrance of life' (2 Cor 2:16)." The NT demonstrates in various places that the resurrection is not just about guilt and innocence. Jesus "endured the cross, scorning its shame and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God" (Heb 12:2). Satan was publicly shamed by Christ when Jesus "disarmed the powers and authorities" and "made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross" (Col 2:15). "Through the resurrection, we who were the bearers of guilt and shame are now declared to be the recipients of justification and honor" (Tennent, 91). The honor-shame dynamic adds a crucial dimension to Christ's public, shameful atoning death: Not only does the crucifixion relieve us of guilt, it removes our shame.

Tennent points out that since the honor-shame perspective of first-century Palestine resonates much more with modern Eastern culture than it does with ours, we are in a position to learn from Christians in Eastern and near-Eastern cultures. I am sure that for many readers of the Bible the honor-shame perspective is old-hat. Kenneth Bailey opened that door for us many years ago. Yet Tennent's chapter does a good job of not only pointing out where these concepts can inform our exegesis but how they influence our theology. I don't typically review books--and I am really just reviewing a single chapter--but I can heartily recommend it. Just the discussion of the influence on the atonement is enough to stimulate thought for a long time.

Just as interesting is Jesus' view of the honor-centricity of his own culture. He condemns the Pharisees for their love of honor (e.g. Lk 11:43). And he tells the parable of the friend at midnight to drive home an attitude of shamelessness (anaideia) in prayer. To embrace Jesus' teaching is not merely to put on the mindset of near-eastern shame and honor, but to think about where our honor ought to come from, and to seek not our own honor, but that of our Lord.

Western culture is certainly a long way from the honor-shame end of the spectrum. Yet, though we don't always think in those terms, these concepts are present and active in our lives. How much pride do you have in your employer, or church or country? The less pride we have in these, the worse we feel about ourselves and the more we are in need of a reminder that Christ's death on the cross takes away our shame, by making us part of a new organization, imbued with the honor of our savior.

Also, in our culture, there is an attrition of status and honor as one moves past middle age into retirement. We shed vocational responsibilities. We are tapped less often to participate at church. Our networks of acquaintances shrink, and with them the honor we associate with our social group. We may not think in terms of honor and shame, but we feel acutely the loss of status and respect, often without a real understanding of why. Many of us will die the death of a thousand tiny insults, leaving us carrying a shame we can't even name.

How important to recognize this aspect of cross. And what truly good news that our honor is in the Lord!

* * *

[1] This introduction follows that used by John H. Elliot in his paper, "Disgraced Yet Graced: 1 Peter in the Key of Honor and Shame," Biblical Theology Bulletin, 24 (1995), 166-178.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Religous mysteries

Tim Crane has written a very insightful essay on the differences between science and religion for the NYT.

Which isn't to say it's right. Let me amend that: Phenomenologically, he's probably right about the appeal of religion to the majority of believers.

One gets the impression he has yet to speak to someone who has made an intelligent case for the historical claims of the faith. It would likely change his view to read N. T. Wright's excellent essay "Can a Scientist Believe in the Resurrection?"

This should be our mission: To model a belief in which faith is based on evidence, and which provides a coherent framework for understanding the body of evidence around us (to adapt a phrase from Deb Haarsma). A faith in which hypotheses are not, as Crane puts it,
...ad hoc, ...arbitrary, [and] ...rarely make predictions and when they do they almost never come true.
We need to model and speak of a faith which does a *better* job of explaining the universe than atheism.

If we fail, we are consigned forever to hear this appalling conclusion: "The religious attitude... does not seek to minimize mystery. Mysteries are accepted as a consequence of what, for the religious, makes the world meaningful."

Paul uses the Greek mysterion to mean something now revealed. Christianity distinguished itself from the mystery religions of its day by eschewing secret knowledge. The Father of Jesus is not the inscrutable God of Islam--He reveals himself in his Son by design, and wants all to know Him and his truth.

The Christian knows there are times when one must simply trust. But the goal of our faith is not eternally blind, ignorant trust, but complete knowledge of the Father (cf. Jn 14, and in fact the theme of knowledge, light and darkness running through Jn).
I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master's business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you. (Jn 15:15)

In our culture, ironically, this is the secret knowledge--that ours is a faith of reason and truth, not mystery. This is the gospel we must spread: that our belief in Jesus as Lord isn't our accepting or even embracing mystery in order to enjoy what Crane calls the "meaning or significance in things,... the mystery of God’s presence." We are Christians first and foremost because we believe the Gospel is true.
Talk to me about the truth of religion and I'll listen gladly. Talk to me about the duty of religion and I'll listen submissively. But don't come talking to me about the consolations of religion or I shall suspect that you don't understand.
C. S. Lewis

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

a rose by blah blah blah

I have realized that, since no one reads this blog (sorry! if you are reading this you must not exist), we have a tremendous amount of freedom in what we post.

("We" because I am not the only one who's posted here. Fun Quiz! See if you can find the other contributor!)

And having just posted someone else's humor (but don't miss the serious post that preceded it on science and faith!), I might as well include a quick note certain to stimulate comments among you nonexistent readers.

It's an established psychological phenomenon that people tend to choose professions that match their names, at least when the names have natural associations.

So, for instance, my wife once visited a hand specialist named Dr. Mitten. And my friend the psychology professor says one of the better researchers in his field is Sam Gosling, who does work on animal personalities.

Today I ran across a good one: The plenary speaker at a stewardship conference my sister's attending this summer, The Rev. Bob Honeychurch.

Gotta love it! His fate was sealed. Sad only that he's an Episcalopian rather than a televangelist.

He looks like a pastor, too.

I need to rename my son "Christopher Christian Faithful Collins." Might ensure his continued belief.

What are the best name-profession pairings you've found? Discuss.

[Btw, the photo's not Honeychurch, but rather the Rev. Dudley Tyng.]

Saturday, July 24, 2010

I Spy in Hell

We don't usually indulge in humor in this blog. However: The following is from McSweeney's, a quirky, experimental literary web site...

"I Spy" in Hell.

BY ADRIAN CHEN

(First published March 18, 2008)

- - - -

BEAST: I spy with my little eye, something ... red.

FALSE PROPHET: Let's see ... is it the lake of fire and brimstone?

BEAST: Yes.

- - - -

BEAST: I spy with my little eye, something ... red.

FALSE PROPHET: Is it the lake of fire?

BEAST: No.

FALSE PROPHET: Is it my shirt?

BEAST: No.

FALSE PROPHET: Wow, this one's hard.

BEAST: Oh, wait. It actually was the lake of fire.

- - - -

BEAST: I spy with my little eye, something ... red.

FALSE PROPHET: The lake of fire!

BEAST: No.

FALSE PROPHET: The fire in your hair?

BEAST: No.

FALSE PROPHET: The fire burning your eyeballs?

BEAST: No.

FALSE PROPHET: The fire burning my eyeballs?

BEAST: No.

FALSE PROPHET: Jeez, I give up.

BEAST: It's fire.

FALSE PROPHET: Like fire in general?

BEAST: Yeah. Just ... all the fire, everywhere.

FALSE PROPHET: Oh. Good one.

- - - -

BEAST: I spy with my little eye, something ... orange.

FALSE PROPHET: Orange?

BEAST: Yes, orange.

FALSE PROPHET: Is it an orange?

BEAST: No.

FALSE PROPHET: The lake of fire?

BEAST: Close, but no.

FALSE PROPHET: Is it just the orange part of the lake of fire?

BEAST: Yes.

FALSE PROPHET: !!!

Friday, July 23, 2010

The helplessness of discovery

This week I spent several days in California at one of the nation's largest laboratories, home to many of the nation's finest scientists. Among them is Marty, who, despite his youth, is well known in the field as co-author and keeper of a hydrodynamics code which defines the state of the art. While having lunch together the conversation moved to avocations, and I mentioned my love of Bible study. It turns out Marty is a believer (a Catholic), and we had a pleasant chat about the reactions many have to believing scientists.

As Marty put it, he sees his work and his faith as orthogonal--working in different dimensions--so there isn't really a question of one contradicting the other. By this, I think he means in part that the question of his faith doesn't impact his work directly, nor does his scientific work either undermine or support his belief in the God of the Bible.

Variants of this point of view go back as far as Francis Bacon, who lived around the time of Newton and is credited as the father of the philosophy of science. His was the "two-book" theory in which we seek revelation from "both the book of nature" (science) and the "book of God" (the Bible and revelation).

At this, throngs of reasonable intelligent thinkers have nodded sagely. Compromise! What could be better? Sadly, down this road is a trap: During the Enlightenment the two-book view evolved into what has come to be called pejoratively the God of the Gaps--that we look to the book of God only to explain that which the book of nature can't. This has the unfortunate effect of relegating God to living on our islands of ignorance. To this Bonhoeffer responded,
We are to find God in what we know, not in what we don't know; God wants us to realize his presence, not in unsolved problems but in those that are solved.
Rather than being content by science and nature in the same room, not talking, let's consider their commonalities. While there are many differences, there is much to be learned by seeing both as ways to learn about the universe, using different data and different tools. This naturally brings us to epistemology, the study of how we come to learn and know things.

Two of the greatest minds of physics, Newton and Einstein, had much to say about epistemology science. Newton envisioned the scientist as impassively observing the world, gathering data with a blank slate, and from these data objectively deducing natural laws. But even as he put forth this paradigm, Newton was aware that it left out the role of the scientist. Newton may have deduced the laws of motion, but to do so he brought the concepts of space and time. (However, due to the success of his physical theories, no one noticed his reservations about his own epistemology of science.) Kant developed this objection further, arguing strongly that scientific theory can't be separated from the influence of the observer.

Now jump forward to Einstein. He realized, and articulated, that in a real sense, the scientist does not merely deduce physical theory from data. He or she may like to think of it like that, but the practice is very different: When tackling a problem of any substance, a scientist will study the data, and then wait for inspiration to strike. As E. M. Colyer put it, quoting Einstein,
While actively engaged in the process of inquiry, the knower in another sense is, in Einstein’s own words, ‘helpless… until principles he can make the basis of deductive reasoning have revealed themselves to him’ [1]
This is precisely what I have observed in the laboratory where I do research. Imagine a brainstorming session of half a dozen scientists trying to make sense of some data. They toss around ideas, turning them over and examining them, describing them to one another. At some point, all fall silent. Each is mulling, concentrating, hoping and trying to be the one who has the flash of insight which makes sense of the data. If all goes well, one of them does have a problem-solving insight, and the work is done.

Fascinatingly, the person who has the insight typically behaves as if it were the result of hard work, sweat of the brow and so forth--when in fact, just as Einstein observed, the hard work was all in preparing the soil; the actual moment of inspiration was a moment not of deduction but of helpless waiting. And Einstein, who spent years waiting for crucial insights never new to the mind of mankind, knew better than most what that helplessness was like.

Scientific learning--really, all learning--is much better characterized by inspiration than deduction. As Einstein also observed, it is usually after the inspiration that we work backwards to construct a deductive chain supporting our insight, covering our epistemological tracks, so to speak. Psychologists have spent a great deal of time examining this process. They refer to the waiting for inspiration as the "incubation" period, and it's experienced not just by Newtons and Einsteins, but by all people, scientist and non-scientist alike.

There is much more to be said here; these are deep waters. To the scientist it cautions humility. We may fail to realize it, but we are dependent on inspiration rather than brute-force reasoning for the insights we crave.

For the believing non-scientist, there are also lessons. Though we typically recognize the role of inspiration in spirituality, we often short-change the period of immersing ourselves in our subjects. In praying for someone, think long and hard about that person first--and then see what inspiration comes. When studying the Bible, avoid the verse-a-day-for-inspiration method like the plague; incubation follows most reliably when we live in the context and world of the passage. Reformed theologian T. F. Torrance, who developed what he called scientific theology, took this a step further and emphasized reading Scripture within the sweep of the narrative of salvation history. To read the Bible atomistically would be like formulating a scientific theory while only considering some of the facts.

This way of reading Scripture finds itself most at home with Jesus' favorite method of teaching: the parable. Parables step aside from deduction and invite immersion in the story, however long or short. It is in this immersion that we open ourselves most fully to the work of the Holy Spirit.

[1] How to Read T. F. Torrance (IVP: Downers Grove), 2001.
[The cartoon is Copyright 2006 by Sidney Harris.]

Monday, March 15, 2010

Desert Fathers Pt. 1

A Christian History article listing the author's favorite top-five books on desert spirituality pointed towards a really fun two-volume set called Barsanuphius and John of Gaza: Letters. The desert Fathers were monks in the 3rd+ cent. who sought God and holiness through separation from the world and asceticism. Their struggles were against demons, against their own pride, worldliness and temptation. They gained a reputation in part due to the biography of one of their greatest monks, St. Anthony, written by none other than Athanasius, the man whose tireless struggle in the fourth century preserved orthodox belief about the divinity and humanity of Christ.

These are people whose spirituality, completely foreign to Westerners, captures the imagination. A favorite account shared with me by my friend Dean Johnson reads,
Abba Lot came to Abba Joseph and said: Father, according as I am able, I keep my little rule, and my little fast, my prayer, meditation and contemplative silence; and, according as I am able, I strive to cleanse my heart of thoughts: now what more should I do? The elder rose up in reply and stretched out his hands to heaven, and his fingers became like ten lamps of fire. He said: Why not be changed into fire? [1]
Ah. So helpful! Another favorite example is Simeon Stylites, who is famous for living for 39 years on a platform on top of a pillar.

Simeon and Lot both show a characteristic problem with reading the desert fathers: The direction of their spirituality was so foreign to ours that their accomplishments, while at times amazing, tend to feel irrelevant.

Which is why the books of letters from Barsanuphius and John are so interesting. These two were monks in the desert of Gaza in the 6th century. They were regarded as holy men and spiritual authorities, and many people sought advice from them. Their responses are a sort of Frequently Asked Questions list on desert spirituality and asceticism. Here you see more than their cryptic advice and sayingsyou get practical advice to an array of every-day questions.

For instance, one young brother asked the "Great Old Man" (as Barsanuphius was called) to guide him in talking to a fellow monk. The monk had asked the young brother about his thoughts, and he had responded in riddles, later wondering if he had acted correctly. The Great Old Man's reply was,
As for questioning in riddles, it is self-serving, lacking in discernment, and this person needs many prayers.
Score one for the riddled monk, and for common sense!

In a response to a monk who is discouraged because he can't stop thinking about sex, and wonders if maybe he just doesn't have what it takes to be a monk, Barsanuphius writes,
We hear that 'our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh, but against rulers and against the authorities.' Until now, you have not struggled against sin tot he point of blood. Does the spirit of listlessness, then, already paralyze you? ...Ah, sleepy monk! Show the devil that you live for God, taking refuge in him, moving with hands and feet, swimming in the onslaught of the intellectual waves, which rise to the heavens and drop to the abyss. God is my witness, that my heart has been unfolded with you...
The compassion in this response is palpable. It also shows the spiritual context in which these monks lived: If you strip away the trappings of life--books, clothes, job advancement, (probably) good food, home--then maybe it makes it all the easier to see the demonic beings which resist our drawing nearer to God. Another letter to Barsanuphius has the request, "Please teach me how to reach abstinence [from food] and how to distinguish between natural and demonic weakness." He replies,
...if your body can accept daily food and is still slack, then this comes from demons; otherwise it is from the [fasting] itself.
Again, practical! (Though I might add "depressed about living in the desert" or even "common cold" to the list of possible explanations.) While I am not ready quite yet to yield to such a demon-crowded world view, I am open to the idea that the desert fathers knew something I don't about the spiritual world, and that their very different perspective allowed them to see things invisible to me.

From a Western perspective we wonder why they would pursue asceticism, and give up God's good gifts? Why they would separate themselves from the world, and thus cut themselves off from all the good they can do, the witness they can provide. Why they would spend so much energy scrutinizing each thought and emotion, when sometimes it's better to serve than to think. Why spend so much time looking for demons, rather than Jesus?

For their part they would ask us, Why are we holding so tightly to our worldly goods and pursuits, and trying to climb through the needle's eye? Doesn't it say in 1 Jn 2:15, "Do not love the world or anything in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him"? And didn't Paul tell us to "take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ" (2 Cor 10:15)? And didn't he also tell us that "our struggle is not against flesh and blood" (Eph 6:15)?

It helps me remember than two hundred years from now, my career, my house, my accomplishments, will be forgotten, and to admire the courage it must have taken for them to give away all of these things to draw closer to Jesus.

My reading has also taken me into perhaps one enduring gift of the desert communities, the Jesus Prayer. Frederica Matthewes-Green has written a brief and highly accessible introduction to the Prayer half of which is a list of frequently asked questions. What better way to connect with the desert fathers than with this ancient meditation? 'Tis the season.

And now, it's time for me to discern whether my hunger and slackness are due to demons, or impending lunchtime...

* * *

[Image: Michelangelo's The Torment of Saint Anthony, c. 1487-88.]
[1] The Wisdom of the Desert: Sayings from the Desert Fathers of the Fourth Century, Thomas Merton, New Directions Books, Norfolk, CT, 1960, p. 50.

Monday, February 8, 2010

Groupthink

I put a lot of mental energy into spiritual growth, and not nearly as much actual time and effort. In any day when I don't spent time studying Scripture, I at least feel guilty about it.

This is the sort of admission that would make the spiritual greats of history wince. I don't think I am unusual in this.

What do you do for spiritual growth? If a younger Christian asked you for thirty seconds of advice on spiritual growth, what would you say?

Get into a church, and get involved. Read your Bible and pray every day.

After that, it may start to sound a like a Lenten vow or a retreat at a local monastery: Meditate. Journal. Maybe do Compline every night, or practice the Jesus Prayer? Or get into a prayer partnership, or join a small group?

John Stott answered this question in an article where he was talking about "sowing to the Spirit" (in reference to Gal 6:8):
"...daily prayer, and meditation on the Scriptures, ... reading Christian books, making Christian friends, and getting engaged in Christian service."
Richard Foster, in Celebration of Discipline, lists meditation, prayer, fasting and study ("inward disciplines"), simplicity, solitude, submission and service ("outward disciplines"), and confession, worship, guidance and celebration ("corporate disciplines"). Dallas Willard, in his Spirit of the Disciplines has an even longer list: solitude, silence, fasting, frugality, chastity, secrecy, sacrifice ("disciplines of abstinence") and study, worship, celebration, service, prayer, fellowship, confession, submission ("disciplines of engagement").

Do you also find these lists a little daunting? Like it would take all your free time just to maintain a spreadsheet of which disciplines you haven't gotten around to recently?

A very different approach can be found in Ephesians 4. Ephesians is all about God's bringing all things into unity under his Son, the primary example of this in Ephesians is the nascent unity between Jew and Gentile. Knowing the history of conflict and enmity between the two groups, Paul finds this oneness of purpose and faith nothing short of miraculous, a harbinger of the downfall of Satan himself (3:10). Think of a church where Israeli and Palestinians converts worship side by side in love and affection, and you get the idea.

In this treatise on the supernatural unity of the Holy Spirit, we read:
I therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, 2with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, 3making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace... 7 But each of us was given grace according to the measure of Christ’s gift... 11The gifts he gave were that some would be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers, 12to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, 13until all of us come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ. 14We must no longer be children, tossed to and fro and blown about by every wind of doctrine, by people’s trickery, by their craftiness in deceitful scheming. 15But speaking the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, 16from whom the whole body, joined and knitted together by every ligament with which it is equipped, as each part is working properly, promotes the body’s growth in building itself up in love. [4:1-3,7,11-16]
Right in the center of a passage urging unity of spirit and purpose we find an unlikely reference to sanctification. Paul promises nothing less than "the full stature of Christ", and such discernment as to give stability in the midst of subtly deceptive teaching. And the road to maturity--in a sense, Paul's list like those of Stott, Willard and Foster above--is to work together in ministry. How do you grow spiritually? Find a way to use your gifts in community, and preferably in a community which represents the diversity we expect to see in the next life, and work towards in this one. Paul warns this will take love and patience and truth, and genuine effort, enough so that he begs the Ephesians to put everything into this pursuit.

Two observations:
  1. This is ultimately a process done in community.[1] This is not to say that Foster or Willard are wrong to recommend solitary practices; but if we are serious about spiritual growth, we must do it with other Christians. In our culture, where it is much more acceptable to be "spiritual" rather than "religious," attaching yourself to a church is about as popular as being a single adult living with your parents. Paul doesn't give you the luxury of waiting until you find a church you can really show off to your friends. If you want to grow spiritually, you do it by striving with other believers, with all their faults and foibles.
  2. Paul tells the recipients of this letter to use their gifts "for the work of ministry." Spiritual growth is a byproduct here of pursuing God's kingdom. Spiritual "muscles" aren't like those a bodybuilder gets in the gym; they are like the muscles you get working in the fields with the other laborers.
These are difficult truths. It can be hard for us to imagine ourselves being more Christ-like in a year or ten. How much harder, then, to envision to the sanctification of the whole community? When I think of the people in my church, I get the feeling sanctification isn't necessarily high on their list for some. What do I do with them? Do I just engage in ministry and grow alongside those others who do the same, forgetting about those who stayed home? It's not so tough to imagine and pray for the sanctification of the type-A members of the church, but Paul doesn't make such a distinction.

Maybe this is what the forty years in the desert were like. If Moses or Joshua could have mustered their crack team of the highly motivated, they could have stormed Canaan, cutting the trip by half. But God's people had to travel together, both the Calebs and the less motivated stragglers. They were dependent on God for their survival and salvation, but also were forced to work together. In a sense, they even had it easier than we do: The signs of God's presence were very physical, including the pillars of smoke and fire and manna from heaven. Also, it wasn't an option for them to stay put and go to sleep in the desert, or shuffle at a snail's pace, pretending it counted as travel. Happily, there were no Sunday-morning soccer matches in the desert to compete for their attention.

This is where we point out the many benefits of new-covenant life. They had a pillar of fire; we have the indwelling Spirit of the Living God, the Ancient of Days, who desires to conform us to the image of Jesus Christ. The wandering people of God would have glad to hear Paul say,
But we ought always to thank God for you, brothers loved by the Lord, because from the beginning God chose you to be saved through the sanctifying work of the Spirit and through belief in the truth. (2 Thess 2:13)
For all that, though, we also have bills to pay, kids to raise, and a roiling sea of distractions. The sad truth is that there will always be those among us who
are indifferent to God's will for us and even some who choose, out of plain stubbornness, to quench the Spirit. Jesus' parable of the sower is fair warning of this. It's as if some in the desert had just wanted to sit down and give up, or pitch tents in the hot sun and forsake Canaan. The hard job of the family of believers is to love and cajole and encourage them. It's an exhausting thought, but as Jesus is patient with us, we must be the same.

On the bright side, this time around the earth generally doesn't open its mouth and swallow any of us up. That's some comfort, at least.

* * *

[1] This isn't of course the only passage on sanctification or spiritual growth. If by contrast you read only Jn 8:23-32, for instance, you will come away believing spiritual growth is all about immersion in Jesus' teachings. Given the themes of the letter, it's no surprise that Ephesians presents the communal aspect of sanctification. But that fact shouldn't lead us to de-emphasize this passage, as if the author were over-stating his case. Western believers are so inclined towards individualism that this is precisely the emphasis we need to hear.

Addendum:


Q:
Do adult Christians need to put energy into pursuit of spiritual growth, or is that just for the overachievers of the church? I went through a dozen years of Sunday school growing up, I attend church, and a few years ago I was in that Bible study--you remember. Isn't that enough?

A: Several passages in the NT indicate that spiritual growth is meant to be central for believers. 2 Peter 2:18 commands the reader to "grow in the grace and knowledge of the Lord"; in Col 1:10 the author prays for the readers to "grow in the knowledge of God," leading to patience and joy and "bearing fruit in every good work." In Hebrews we read that "anyone who lives on milk, being still an infant, is not acquainted with the teaching about righteousness. But solid food is for the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil"--and the author goes on "leave behind the elementary teachings about Christ..." (5:13-6:2). Almost every one of Paul's letters includes a healthy dose of paraenesis, or teaching about holy living. Is this just for the young Christians of the early church? Two reasons not to think so: (1) The second-generation church addressed by the pastorals is cut from the same cloth; and (2) Paul's famous autobiographical passage in Romans 7-8 describing his struggle with sanctification assumes as a backdrop that an apostle whom all would consider a "mature" believer nevertheless grapples with spiritual growth.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Faith to save but not to change?

Hank is 18, a senior in college, and hoping to move east and enter the Maine Maritime Academy. Years of reading about the sea make him want to follow in the footsteps of his merchant-marine grandfather, but there's one problem: Hank needs to pass the lifesaving test. He knows how to swim, but Hank's always focused more on the elements of sailing which are above the water level and doesn't have the experience he needs.

So you can imagine how excited Hank is when he hears about Mr. Wilkins, who advertises that in six weeks he could guarantee Hank (or anyone else) would pass the test. Hank meets with him, and expresses his reservations:

"Are you sure after six weeks I'll pass the test?" asks Hank.

"Just show up each day for half an hour, and I guarantee you'll be a first-class life guard and swimmer. Put some effort in, and you'll feel at home even in rough waters," says Mr. Wilkins.

At Hank's dubious look, Mr. Wilkins adds, "The goal isn't just passing the test--you'll go way beyond that if you just show up each day for instruction. Most of my students become outstanding swimmers, and many are now in the Coast Guard."

"But you're sure I'll pass the test?" asks a worried Hank.

"Of course--just show up and do what I say," comes the exasperated reply.

*

Most of us have dark moments when we fear death. No matter what we believe, there are times when we lie awake and wonder if it's all true. How will it end? And once we breath our last, will we meet God, or will our thoughts and feelings come to an end forever?

Similarly, no matter how much we believe in grace, most of us get a chill when we read the Sheep and the Goats in Matthew 25:31-46. This is the passage where Jesus says to the goats, "I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, a stranger and you did not invite me in", etc. Barbara Brown Taylor's experience is common to many of us:
So when I hear a story like this one I review my list. First I read it over very carefully and note that I need at least one hungry person, one thirsty one, one stranger, one naked person, one sick person, and one prisoner so that I can supply—in that order—food, drink, a warm welcome, some clothes, a hospital visit, and a prison visit. Then, presumably, I will have satisfied all the requirements for ending up with the sheep instead of the goats. Now isn't that absurd?
As Keith Green helpfully pointed out, "the only difference between the sheep and the goats, according to this scripture, is what they did, and didn't do." This passage could not be more blunt. It teaches many things, but at its core, it tells us that Jesus will judge on the basis of actions.

At this point it would be easy to go down the path of faith v. works, but we've been down this road before. Paul and James agree:
"The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love" (Gal 5:6b)
and
"In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead" (James 2:17).
Generally at this point we nod and acknowledge that any true faith will by necessity entail good works of the sort Jesus mentions. As Paul also says,
"Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows. The one who sows to please his sinful nature will reap destruction; the one who sows to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life." (Gal 6:7)
Well, then, this is the consistent message of the NT: when we stand before the throne of judgment, the test of true faith will be seen in whether we truly chose to follow Jesus. We need not draw a line to determine how many righteous works will save us; they won't. But true saving faith will produce those actions as sure as day follows from night.

It's no wonder we don't always sleep well. Many of us have frown creases on our foreheads due specifically to holding "there is therefore no condemnation" (Rom 8:1) in our minds along with the Sheep and the Goats.

There is a tonic for this.

A casual look at the grand sweep of Old Testament history shows us that God demanded righteousness from his people, and they managed it about as well as the peacetime Ulysses Grant stayed away from the bottle. From this standpoint Israel's story looks much like the Garden: given God's abundance and told to do what was right, time and again they chose evil. Finally God sends his Son, as if he's tried every other method and in frustration is forced to do what he didn't want to in the first place.

What OT history also tells us is that God always intended to create for himself a people bearing his righteousness. It may not have been the method we would have chosen, but it's God's goal, and he will accomplish it in his time. As Isaiah says (45:23-25),
By myself I have sworn,
my mouth has uttered in all integrity
a word that will not be revoked:
Before me every knee will bow;
by me every tongue will swear.

They will say of me, `In the LORD alone
are righteousness and strength.' "
All who have raged against him
will come to him and be put to shame.

But in the LORD all the descendants of Israel
will be found righteous and will exult.
Or even more strongly in 60:20-21,
Your sun will never set again,
and your moon will wane no more;
the LORD will be your everlasting light,
and your days of sorrow will end.

Then will all your people be righteous
and they will possess the land forever.
They are the shoot I have planted,
the work of my hands,
for the display of my splendor.
Is this just for the next life? In Ezekiel (11:19-20), when talking about return from exile, God says
I will give them an undivided heart and put a new spirit in them; I will remove from them their heart of stone and give them a heart of flesh. Then they will follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws.
He speaks here of his new covenant, when God says,
I will put my law in their minds
and write it on their hearts.
I will be their God,
and they will be my people. (Jer 31:33)
This is the covenant we celebrate every time we share the Lord's Supper.

Now look to the New Testament. John writes in 1:12-13,
Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God--children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband's will, but born of God.
Unlike in modern Western culture, in ancient times the son most often did what the father did, and the daughter the mother. So the son of a cobbler made shoes; and the child of God does what God does--and bears his righteousness. We don't often read this as a statement of sanctification, but that's just what it is. So Paul writes in 1 Thess 4:2a, "It is God's will that you should be sanctified"--and later adds
May God himself, the God of peace, sanctify you through and through. May your whole spirit, soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. The one who calls you is faithful and he will do it. (1 Thess 5:23-24)
Despite this--despite Paul's assertions that we are "being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory" (2 Cor 3:18), we often forget that we are part of God's plan from the beginning to make a righteous people for himself, a plan he intends to succeed. Ever wonder why Jesus, the man best acquainted with God's amazing grace, can speak so easily of the angels separating "the wicked from the righteous" (Mt 13:49--in many ways parallel to the Sheep and the Goats)? Not because in the end it all comes down to God sparing those who somehow manage to have a good enough Sunday-school attendance record and give enough to the poor. But because if we sow to the Spirit, God will bring about his righteousness in us.

As a community of faith, we can be a lot like Hank. We concentrate on passing the test, and fail to notice the wonderful things God will teach us and do in us. Like a husband who forever obsesses about the glorious moment when his wife agreed to marry him, we don't enjoy what the Spirit is working in us even now. Our righteousness is not merely some imputed thing which appears in God's ledger and saves us from eternal suffering as if by mere legal action. As much as we are willing to bathe ourselves in God's Word and little by little give him our time and priorities, we will find him creating in us a righteousness which transforms our very character.

That's the tonic for Sheep-and-Goats heartburn. God is even now making a righteous people for himself, and to the degree that we are willing to show up and let him, he will happily include us. Don't be surprised that the sheep do good works in Jesus' parable: That was God's plan for each of us from the very start.

*

[Artwork: The central panel of Hans Memling's Last Judgment Triptych. Taylor: "Knowing Glances" from The Preaching Life.]