. . . and it’s not even fake Carson

As a student at Regent College (the Canadian school—not Regent University in Virginia, which is a rather different sort of place) from 1997-2001, I had the opportunity to get to know Dr. John Stackhouse just a bit, and to appreciate him both for his first-rate theological mind and for his acerbic and rather black sense of humor (most notably expressed in his occasional turns as singer-songwriter in chapel). I’ve continued to appreciate him ever since, both for his books and more recently for his blog.

The newest post on his blog at the moment finds Dr. Stackhouse taking a swipe at D. A. Carson—and not fake Carson, either, but the real one. From the sound of things, it seems like Dr. Carson, ordinarily one of the best and most worthwhile NT scholars out there (at least on the evangelical side of things), needed a quote for his book Becoming Conversant with the Emerging Church: Understanding a Movement and Its Implications and couldn’t find one from an actual emerging-church figure that fit—so he found the best quote he could find, from an article Dr. Stackhouse had written a decade before, and jimmied it in. Unfortunately, the result was that Dr. Carson ended up significantly misinterpreting and misrepresenting both the quote and its author, as Dr. Stackhouse points out (at some length).

Unfortunately, I say, for two reasons. The first is that this sort of academic misfeasance, minor though it may be, only weakens the argument Dr. Carson was trying to make. Whether you agree with his view of the emerging church or not, that’s no good thing, because to the extent that his challenge is valid, it needs to be heard and addressed—and to the extent that it isn’t, it still needs to be presented as ably as possible so that it can be answered as fully as possible. Second, this sort of misreading/uncharitable reading, whether deliberate or due to sloppy work, is unbecoming of Christian scholars, and yet (as one of Dr. Stackhouse’s commenters notes) we’re starting to see it with distressing frequency in arguments between Christian academics. Another example would be the exchange between Roger Olson and John Piper over the I-35W bridge collapse, as Alan noted over at The Thinklings. It’s getting very tiresome, and I think it makes Christians look bad. We ought to have the grace to extend our fellow believers at least the first courtesy of disagreement: the assumption that though they might be wrong (as we see it), they are wrong for good reasons. To assume that since they’re wrong, it must be for bad reasons (whether intellectually bad, morally bad, or both) is uncharitable and un-Christlike, and we need to stop doing it.

Meme Reversi

So I’ve been on the road a lot the last couple weeks, and haven’t had the time to hammer out a response to the challenge my wife tossed me after I tagged her; but I’ve been thinking about it. The problem isn’t that I don’t have areas of my life to work on—like anyone else, I surely do. The problem, rather, is to answer this key question: where is my walk lagging my talk? Where is the greatest gap between the belief I hold and the belief I live? I do try to be a doer of the world, but where am I falling shortest?

After a fair bit of reflection, I think the key for me is becoming more of an agent of grace. As I’ve written before, I’m coming increasingly to the conclusion that we in the American church really don’t want grace, because we want to believe we deserve the credit for our salvation; which causes two problems. One, of course, is the badly distorted view of ourselves and our salvation which this produces. The other is that if we don’t really appreciate the grace we’ve received, then we won’t extend that grace to others, a point illustrated in the parable of the unforgiving servant (Matthew 18:23-35). As that parable shows, if we have received grace, we’re expected to give others grace in turn; and I can’t claim to be very good at doing that. As a pastor, there are almost always people in the church who beat you up and tear you down—people who, in some cases, are profoundly non-Christlike in some of their behaviors—and it can be a real struggle to show them grace. It has been for me, at least, to remember that when they don’t deserve it, that’s why it’s called grace. And as a father, when I’m physically and emotionally spent, it can be hard to show my children grace, even when they don’t mean any harm.

This, then, is what I will strive to do: to bite back the sharp words, to divert the quick flare of anger- and exhaustion-fueled irritation, and instead to show grace. If I try to do this merely by force of will, however, trying to catch myself at the last minute, I know I’ll fail; as I’ve been reminded this week in reading Dr. Andrew Purves’ excellent book The Crucifixion of Ministry, it’s only because we’re united with Christ by his Spirit that there’s any hope for anything we do. (He’s talking specifically about ministry, but the application is broader than that.) If I’m going to become truly an agent of grace, then, I need to start by drawing near to Jesus, and especially by drawing near to give praise and thanks for the grace he has shown me—to practice appreciating the grace of God. I need to start by making more time for prayer and worship, and by consciously directing my focus away from prayers of lament and prayers for guidance (though both those have their place, and will continue to have their place) toward prayers of thanksgiving for grace received, and prayers that God would show his grace through me to others.

Anyway, to keep the reversed meme going, I tag Happy. (I can’t tag anyone else because no one I tagged with the original meme did anything with it, except my wife, who gave it back to me.)

The crucifixion of ministry

I’m a book person. As I’ve noted before, one of my regrets is that I don’t have time to read everything I’d like to read. Still, every year there’s a book or two that is simply a must-read for me, that I wait for and make the time for, whatever else might be going on. This year, at the top of that list is The Crucifixion of Ministry: Surrendering Our Ambitions to the Service of Christ, by the distinguished professor of pastoral theology at Pittsburgh Seminary, Dr. Andrew Purves; it’s finally out from IVP, I have it on order from Amazon (though they still list the release date as October 30), and I’m very much looking forward to reading it. Indeed, I’ve been looking forward to it for about a year now; Theology Matters ran Dr. Purves’ introduction to his book as the lead article in last year’s November/December issue, and it completely blew me away. I won’t try to summarize it, because I don’t think I can do Dr. Purves justice; I’ll just tell you, if you’re in Christian ministry, either for pay or as a volunteer—if you’re a leader in the church in any way—click the link and read it. Here are a few excerpts to whet your appetite:

Alternatively, Jesus is God active in the life of the world, in our personal lives, and in ministry at every turn. The problem is we rarely think radically enough concerning Jesus. We have him tamed, boxed, and safe. But as he is the living and reigning Lord, the question now becomes: What is he up to and how do I get in on whatever it is that he is up to? The answer is twofold: the classical doctrines of the vicarious humanity (and ministry) of Christ and our participation in Christ through the bond of the Holy Spirit. Everything is cast back on to him, on to God who is present for us by the Spirit in, through, and as Jesus Christ, yesterday, today, and for ever. In this case, because ministry is what he does, ministry is properly understood as gospel rather than law, as grace rather than as obligation.The first and central question in thinking about ministry is this: What is Jesus up to? That leads to the second question: How do we get “in” on Jesus’ ministry, on what he’s up to? The issue is not: How does Jesus get “in” on our ministries? . . .Exploring these issues brings us to the difficult awareness that our ministries must be displaced by the ministry of Jesus. This is more than relinquishment, however. We must be bumped aside, firmly, perhaps mortifyingly. For us, this means the death of our ministries. The reason is that this displacement is not an invitation to let Jesus take over by letting him “in” on our territory. Rather, this displacement has the character of mortification—otherwise, most likely, we would never let go of our grip on our ministries. What we think we should do, and can do, and in fact do in ministry, is put to death. Why? Simply put: too often they are in the way. Our ministries are not redemptive, even when conducted from the best spiritual, therapeutic, and moral motives. Only the ministry of Jesus is redemptive.I am calling this process of displacement “the crucifixion of ministry” in large measure because crucifixion carries the notion of redemption in Christian thought. As the crucifixion of Jesus is staggering good news of our salvation, now also the crucifixion of ministry by the process of painful displacement by the ministry of Jesus, likewise, is staggering good news—for us, the ministers, and for the people we minister among. The crucifixion of ministry is the ground for the redemption of our ministries, and for us, the ministers, the source of hope, joy, and peace in our service. . . .In summary fashion this is the argument. 1. The ministry of Jesus is the ministry of God. That, at the end of the day, is what most of our creedal and confessional language concerning Jesus Christ is about. 2. Jesus’ ministry is at once historical, present, and future. It is not just a past influence reaching into the present. 3. By sharing in the life of Jesus (the doctrine of our union with Christ, which is the principal work of the Holy Spirit), we thereby share in his, that is, God’s, continuing ministry. In other words, it is he, not we, who primarily “do” ministry; and by the gift of the Spirit we are joined to him to share thereby in his life, and thus, in his ministry in some regard. Wherever Christ is, there is the church and ministry. . . .The crucifixion of ministry is good news! 1. Conceiving ministry as our ministry is the root problem of what ails us in ministry today. 2. Ministry, rather, is to be understood as a sharing in the continuing ministry of Jesus Christ, for wherever Christ is, there is the church and her ministry. The effect is that our ministries are displaced by Christ’s ministry—thus the notion of the crucifixion of ministry. In more formal terms, we need to recover the paramount significance of two weighty but quite neglected doctrines: the vicarious humanity and ministry of Christ, and our union with Christ. The Christian identity and the faithful practice of ministry are not possible on any other terms.

This is just to give you a feel for Dr. Purves’ argument; for the rest, including his discussion of the “two major crucifixions or seasons of dying in ministry,” go read the article.

Meme tag

Despite the fact that I hadn’t posted in almost four months, my dear friend Happy was good enough to tag me with a meme that’s going around, courtesy of Good Will Hinton, off the book UnChristian: What a New Generation Really Thinks about Christianity… and Why It Matters. Apparently one of the co-authors of the book, Gabe Lyons, is a friend of Will Hinton’s; I’ll admit to knowing nothing more about it than what I’ve read in his post. (As a side note, the whole concept of “memes” has had rather an interesting journey since Richard Dawkins coined the word.)

In any case, the rule of the meme is as follows: name three negative perceptions about Christians and one thing Christians should be known for. Bearing in mind, as others have noted, that this is purely in relation to Western culture in general, and America in particular (my friends from Zimbabwe, for instance, would have a very different response to the question), here goes.

Negative perception #1: Christians are shills for the Republican Party.

This is a base libel on the denomination in which I serve, the Presbyterian Church (USA), whose leaders (like most mainline leaders) are in fact shills for the Democratic Party, thank you very much. . . . That said, there are far too many prominent evangelicals who deserve this label, so there’s rather more than just a grain of truth in it. Politics in America is pretty polarized right now, and the church isn’t really helping much; there are churches which are apolitical and churches which are enmeshed in the political system (on both sides of the aisle), and very few which are modeling a Kingdom perspective on political engagement. Let’s work to change that.

Negative perception #2: Christians are more interested in winning arguments than in caring for people.

I don’t know that this is any truer of Christians than it is of any other group; but it ought to be far less true. Here’s another place where simply by not being different, we fall short.

Negative perception #3: Christians are intolerant.

There are two levels to this one. On one level, by the world’s highly problematic definition of tolerance (which is basically a threadbare mask for apathy), yes, Christians are intolerant—and what’s more, we’re supposed to be. God doesn’t tolerate sin, and neither should we. On another level, though, there are all too many Christians who truly are intolerant, who feel free to reject people whose sins offend them.

The problem comes when we forget that we, too, are sinners, not just those people over there, and that God doesn’t tolerate our sin either; and yet, he doesn’t write us off, nor does he merely tolerate us, but instead, he actively loves us. Lose that, and we lose sight of the fact that even as we refuse to tell people their sin is OK, we must not merely tolerate them, but actively love them.

What Christians should be known for: Living what we believe.

In the terms of James 1:22-27, we’re called to be doers of the word, not merely hearers; which is a pretty major thing. As I put it in my sermon this past Sunday:

What does this mean? It means that if you say you believe the gospel, and it doesn’t change your life, you don’t believe it. If you listen to the preaching of the word, and you nod your head and say, “Good sermon,” and you don’t go out and put it into practice, you don’t believe it. If you read the Bible, and you understand what it’s telling you, and you don’t do everything you can to live accordingly, you don’t believe it. It’s not enough to say the right things, it’s not enough to sing the hymns, it’s not enough to repeat the Creed, it’s not enough to think all the right thoughts—if you don’t do it, if you don’t live this book, then you’re missing something. You might be saved for later, you might have your ticket to heaven punched, but if all this never leaves your head, if it never reaches your hands and your feet, then you aren’t living God’s life now.

You see, we aren’t here just to think certain things, or even to say certain things; it’s not enough just to know God’s word. It’s interesting, that phrase “doer of the word” is an odd one—this is an example of James thinking in Hebrew even though he’s writing in Greek. The Greek verb there is poieo—the noun version, poi­ēma, is the word from which we get our word “poem”—and it means “to do,” but even more, it means “to make”; and in normal Greek, this would have been read as “maker of words”—in our terms, “wordsmith,” or “poet.” To take the typical Hebrew phrase, “doer of the word,” and just import it into Greek the way he does creates a very interesting bit of wordplay—and a profound one, I think. As Christians, we’re called to be in a very real way God’s poems, to write out his words with our lives, so that people who look at our lives can read his message to them in us.

Put another way, we’re supposed to incarnate the word of God—to make God’s word real in our lives, to wrap the flesh of our lives around the bone of his will and his commands, to become walking examples of his teaching; as we follow Christ, who was the Word of God incarnate, we are called to be “little Christs”—that’s what “Christians” means—to be copies of Christ, copies of the word of God, walking around in this world. The Bible is the word of God written, presenting us with Jesus Christ, the word of God made flesh; and our job is to become the word of God acted out, lived out, in 21st-century America. It’s true, as many have said, that you are the only Bible many people will ever read; it’s also true, says James, that that ought to be enough. If you are the only Bible people have ever read, that ought to be enough to tell them who God is, and who Jesus is, and why they should follow him. That’s what it means to be a doer of the word, and not merely a hearer of the word. That’s what it means for your life to be a poem for God. That, says James, is what it means to be a Christian.“Preach the Gospel at all times. When necessary, use words.” —St. Francis of Assisi

So, to keep the game rolling, I tag:

  1. Sara
  2. Jared, Bird, De and the gang (The Thinklings)
  3. The Calvinator
  4. Jim Berkley
  5. Debbie Berkley

1 Timothy and the misdirected conscience of the West

I’m preaching a series on 1 Timothy (yesterday was 1:12-20), and it’s started me thinking about the whole concept of conscience, and how so many in the American church abuse it. Literally the word means “to know together with,” and it refers to the things we know together with God about the way the world is supposed to be and the way we’re supposed to live; it’s the awareness God has placed within us of his character and will. We might almost call it a sixth sense, as it gives us the ability to perceive reality in its moral aspect. The problem is, it’s only valuable as far as it accurately reports reality—in this case, moral reality, what is right and wrong in the eyes of God—but that’s not how we want to use the idea of conscience; rather than recognizing it as something objective relating to real right and wrong and actual guilt, we want to take conscience as subjective, reflecting how we feel about something, whether we feel we’ve done right or not. We strive to unhook our conscience from God’s character and will, so that far from challenging our own preferred standards of right and wrong, our sense of conscience merely reflects them.

As I was thinking last week about why this is, and reflecting on Paul’s paean to the mercy of God, it hit me that at some level, we don’t want the conscience God gave us because we really don’t want what God is offering—we don’t want his solution, and we don’t even want to believe what he’s telling us about the problem. The word of God tells us we are sinners, rotten at the core, who need to accept his mercy, to be saved by his grace, through none of our own doing and none of our own merit, and we just don’t want to hear that. We want to believe we’re basically OK—and if we run up against something we can’t get around, that everyone agrees is bad behavior, we want to redefine it as a disease; that way, we’re not bad, we’re just sick.

When the Bible tells us that we do bad things just because we like to do bad things, and that the purpose of our conscience is to convict us of our sin, not to justify our behavior, we resist. As much as we call the gospel good news, it often doesn’t come to us as good news. We don’t consider it good news that we’re sinners saved—despite the fact that we do not and will not ever deserve it—solely by the loving grace of God through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ. That kind of thinking is for losers, and we all want to think we’re winners, if there’s any way we possibly can; we want to believe that God saved us because we’re such all-fired wonderful people that we just had it coming. And the truth is, we aren’t, and we didn’t. The truth is, Christianity is for losers—and that means us. Even the best of us.

That’s one reason 1 Timothy is so important for us. Paul was far more of a winner than most of us could ever hope to be, a man who would tower over the church of our day just as much as he did in his own time, and yet he gave all the credit for all his success to the power of God; for himself, he said this: “It is a true statement and worthy of acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the foremost.” He understood what folks like the Covenant Network don’t, or at least don’t seem to (any more than bad drivers in Dallas), that the good news of the gospel has nothing to do with lessening our sin and our guilt. Instead, it has everything to do with the marvelous, infinite, matchless grace of God, this spectacular gift we have been given, which overwhelms our sin and guilt, washing it all away through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ and the power of his Holy Spirit. The good news of the gospel is that yes, we are sinners, yes, there really is a problem with us, and that God has fixed that problem, because Christ Jesus came into this world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost.

Tributes

The big news, of course, is the death of the Rev. Jerry Falwell; there’s a nice reflection on the man and his work by Joseph Bottum over on the First Things blog. Really, by this time, the Rev. Falwell was about 20 years past his period of broad cultural relevance, though he continued to be important as the founder and patriarch of Thomas Road Baptist Church and Liberty University; but all in all, for all the points where I disagreed with him and the times when he made me cringe, I’d still have to say that our nation is better off because he lived, and that from where I stand, it looks like God used him in powerful ways. Rev. Jerry Falwell, RIP.

On another note, there’s an equally good tribute to the philosopher Charles Taylor, written by Dinesh D’Souza, on the tothesource website, on the occasion of Dr. Taylor having been awarded the Templeton Prize. If you haven’t read Taylor, and you’re up for a good deep read, you ought to–probably starting with his magisterial Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity. Meaty stuff, and very, very important.

There are no Other People

I’m a fan of much of Neil Gaiman’s work–for those of you not familiar with him, you could call him a science-fiction/fantasy/horror author/screenwriter/graphic novelist, if you don’t mind pigeonholing him too much–and have been ever since Neverwhere. His view of the world is very different from mine, but he’s a perceptive and thoughtful observer, a creative and powerful storyteller, and a gifted writer.

Anyway, it turns out Gaiman has a connection to the mass murder at Virginia Tech, which he noted in his blog last week, from which he drew one profoundly true and important point: “There are no Other People. It’s just us.”

Or, as the great poet/preacher John Donne put it in one of his sermons, “Never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

“In my end is my beginning. . . .”

The dripping blood our only drink,
The bloody flesh our only food:
In spite of which we like to think
That we are sound, substantial flesh and blood–
Again, in spite of that, we call this Friday good.

–T. S. Eliot, from Four Quartets, “East Coker,” IV.

Presumption, my dear sir; pure presumption

It’s one of the interesting (and annoying) things about scientists these days—well, to be precise, about the high-profile ones who write heavily-publicized books attacking Christianity—that they refuse to hear of anyone without a Ph.D. in science writing anything at all bearing in any way on science, and treat anyone who tries with utter contempt, but don’t hesitate to wade into the fields of the humanities, of which they know nothing at all, with the serene assurance that since they’re scientists, they must be experts here, too. Watching the likes of Richard Dawkins and Steven Weinberg dress up as philosophers, theologians and historians would be hysterically funny were it not so embarrassingly cringe-inducing, at least for those who actually know something about practicing the disciplines of philosophy, theology and history; it’s amateur hour to the nth power, rather as if someone stepped out of America’s Funniest Home Videos and into the finals of American Idol. Watching the noted philosopher Alvin Plantinga dismantle Dawkins’ book The God Delusion, however, is a very different experience, one in which Dawkins’ work plays the role of carrot to Plantinga’s Cuisinart; for his part, Weinberg’s smug, self-satisfied theory of historical development doesn’t fare much better against Barton Swaim.

I’ll concede, it would be unreasonable to expect these folks to stop trying to refute Christianity; but I would appreciate it if they would at least set aside their disciplinary arrogance and treat the humanities with the same academic respect they demand for the sciences.

Edit: as noted in the comments, including Daniel Dennett with Dawkins and Weinberg was inappropriate in more than one respect; he has therefore been removed. Mea culpa; mea maxima culpa. That said, I would still appreciate it if he would “treat the humanities with the same academic respect [he] demands for the sciences,” even if he’s formally a philosopher himself, as he treats even his own ostensible discipline with public disdain.

Song for St. Patrick’s Day

According to Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, in New York City, Lenten disciplines are suspended by special dispensation on St. Patrick’s Day; so I thought I’d put a song up in honor of that great (and much-misappreciated) saint. He probably didn’t write the caim (encircling prayer) that’s often called “St. Patrick’s Breastplate,” but I don’t know that it matters much–I expect he would have approved. This is the Kuno Meyer translation, which has its own title.

The Deer’s Cry
I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the Threeness,
Through confession of the Oneness
Of the Creator of Creation.I arise today
Through the strength of Christ’s birth with His baptism,
Through the strength of His crucifixion with His burial,
Through the strength of His resurrection with His ascension,
Through the strength of His descent for the judgment of Doom.I arise today
Through the strength of the love of the Cherubim,
In the obedience of angels,
In the service of archangels,
In the hope of the resurrection to meet with reward,
In the prayers of patriarchs,
In prediction of prophets,
In preaching of apostles,
In faith of confessors,
In innocence of holy virgins,
In deeds of righteous men.I arise today
Through the strength of heaven:
Light of sun,
Radiance of moon,
Splendor of fire,
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of wind,
Depth of sea,
Stability of earth,
Firmness of rock.I arise today
Through God’s strength to pilot me:
God’s might to uphold me,
God’s wisdom to guide me,
God’s eye to look before me,
God’s ear to hear me,
God’s word to speak to me,
God’s hand to guard me,
God’s way to lie before me,
God’s shield to protect me,
God’s host to save me
From snares of devils,
From temptations of vices,
From everyone who shall wish me ill,
Afar and anear,
Alone and in a multitude.I summon today all these powers between me and those evils,
Against every cruel merciless power that may oppose my body and soul,
Against incantations of false prophets,
Against black laws of pagandom,
Against false laws of heretics,
Against craft of idolatry,
Against spells of wizards,
Against every knowledge that corrupts body and soul.Christ to shield me today
Against poisoning, against burning,
Against drowning, against wounding
So there come to me abundance of reward.
Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, Christ when I arise,
Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in the eye of everyone who sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the Threeness,
Through confession of the Oneness
Of the Creator of Creation.