As I've read about diplomacy and war in the Reforming period, I was startled to run across the letter of a papal legate (representative) to Charles V, emperor of the Holy Roman Empire of the German States. Charles V was nearly constantly at war with Francis I, king of France. It seems the pope usually allied himself with the underdog in these types of wars, because he never wanted a king or emperor to get so strong as to threaten Rome and the Papal States. Charles V was in some way over Germany, Switzerland, Spain, the Netherlands (including Belgium), south Italy and Austria. Francis I was over . . . France. But Francis was the only hope to keep Charles from overthrowing all of Europe and uniting the continent under the control of the Habsburg family. In fact, Francis was so desperate at one point that he allied himself with Suleiman of the Turks to attack Charles through Austria. Francis even oversaw Suleiman's fleet as they captured Nice.
Following is text from the Catholic Encyclopedia about Pope Clement VII and his relationships with Francis and Charles:
"When Clement was crowned, Francis I and the Emperor Charles V were at war. Charles had supported Clement's candidature and hoped much from his friendship with the Medici, but barely a year had elapsed after his election before the new pope concluded a secret treaty with France. The pitched battle which was fought between Francis and the imperial commanders at Pavia in February, 1525, ending in the defeat and captivity of the French king, put into Charles' hands the means of avenging himself. Still he used his victory with moderation. The terms of the Treaty of Madrid (14 January, 1526) were not really extravagant, but Francis seems to have signed with the deliberate intention of breaking his promises, though confirmed by the most solemn of oaths. That Clement, instead of accepting Charles' overtures, should have made himself a party to the French king's perfidy and should have organized a league with France, Venice, and Florence, signed at Cognac, 22 May, 1526, must certainly have been regarded by the emperor as almost unpardonable provocation. No doubt Clement was moved by genuine patriotism in his distrust of imperial influence in Italy and especially by anxiety for his native Florence. Moreover, he chafed under dictation which seemed to him to threaten the freedom of the Church."
This was followed by more political and military nastiness. Brewing under all of this was the fact that Luther and the other reformers were continuing to study and take steps that eventually precipitated a full break with Mother Church. However, the pope was keen for Charles to take steps against them. But Charles was distracted by wars all around. At different times he did battle with France, the Ottoman Empire, and the pope. No wonder he didn't take care of the reformers. In 1530, there was enough peace for Clement's legate Cardinal Campeggio to write to Charles the following text in response to the Augsburg Confession: "Most Invincible, Imperial, and Catholic Majesty! . . . In the first place, I say that in order to facilitate this business it will be very much to the point if your Catholic Majesty with your very great authority, and then with the help of such Catholic Princes as shall seem best to you, should with every care try and strive to bring into the right and Catholic road some of these Princes, even if you cannot bring all who have subscribed to these articles and propositions [the Augsburg Confession] . . . " (Lindberg, The European Reformations Sourcebook, p 154).
I couldn't help remembering the book 1984 where Eastasia, Oceania, and Eurasia were constantly warring against one or the other of the parties. When they would ally themselves with the other empire that they had just been warring against and then attack their previous ally, they would change all the news reports from generations before, so that they read that they had *always* been at war with that empire.
To be fair, the pope and Francis had recently been utterly defeated by Charles, but it sure sounds like the sort of historiographic sycophancy used to great effect in 1984. "We've always been your friend! Do what we want you to do! (Before we betray you again!)" And these are our religious forebears (unless you're Orthodox).
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Monday, May 26, 2008
A humble view of religious freedom
I noted previously that I appreciated a couple of people in the Reformations period, because they had a moderate view of human ability to be right. I have a man crush on Sebastian Castellio. I'll quote the passage I read, "Concerning Heretics," in full (quoted from "The European Reformations Sourcebook, edited by Carter Lindberg, pp. 182-3).
"The true fear of God and charity are fallen and grown cold. Our life is spent in contention and in every manner of sin. We dispute, not as to the way by which we may come to Christ, which is to correct our lives, but rather as to the state and office of Christ, where he now is and what he is doing, how he is seated at the right hand of the Father, and how he is one with the Father; likewise with regard to the Trinity, predestination, free will; so, also, of God, the angels, the state of souls after this life, and other like things, which do not need to be known for salvation by faith. . . . Nor if these are known do they make a man better, as Paul says, 'Though I understand all mysteries, and have not love, it profiteth me nothing.' This perverse curiosity engenders worse evils. Men are puffed up with knowledge or with a false opinion of knowledge and look down upon others. Pride is followed by cruelty and persecution so that now scarcely anyone is able to endure another who differs at all from him. Although opinions are almost as numerous as men, nevertheless there is hardly any sect that does not condemn all others and desire to reign alone. Hence arise banishments, chains, imprisonments, stakes, and gallows and this miserable rage to visit daily penalties upon those who differ from the mighty about matters hitherto unknown, for so many centuries disputed, and not yet cleared up.
"If, however, there is someone who strives . . . to live justly and innocently, then all others with one accord cry out against him if he differ from them in anything, and they confidently pronounce him a heretic on the ground that he seeks to be justified by works. Horrible crimes of which he never dreamed are attributed to him, and the common people are prejudiced by slander until they consider it a crime merely to hear him speak. Hence arises such cruel rage that some are so incensed by calumny as to be infuriated when the victim is first strangled instead of being burned alive at a slow fire. This is cruel enough, but a more capital offense is added when this conduct is justified under the robe of Christ and is defended as being in accord with his will, when Satan could not devise anything more repugnant to the nature and will of Christ."
This was written in 1554, which makes me rejoin my chorus of, "There is nothing new under the sun!" Interestingly, and thankfully, we don't often kill dissenters these days, so at least that's some progress. But we still shout each other down, call each other idiots, and assume only the best about ourselves. It's interesting, Theodore Beza, John Calvin's successor in Geneva saw this call for religious liberty as "a most diabolical dogma, because it means that everyone should be left to go to hell in his own way" (cited from Lindberg, p. 163). Beza seemed to be a mostly tolerant person. He presented the Reformed position at the Colloquy of Poissy in 1561 in such a winsome and conciliatory way that he had the Catholic delegation eating from his hand until he said something a little too harsh about the Eucharist. However, his statement about Castellio and religious liberty is pretty disturbing. It plays right in with the idea from this time period that, because the Catholic church is the establishment, and because the Lutheran church is too firmly rooted to be extirpated, we'll have these two get along. But anything else (radicals, Anabaptists, etc.) has no right to exist. Was there not a chance that the Lutherans could learn from some of the smaller sects? Or does this just confirm my suspicion that then, as now, religion is inextricably tangled with power and politics? It makes me shudder to answer the question, because Jesus seemed to hand power to his enemies to show them that he truly held it. But we constantly walk away from his path. We continue to fight the battles of Jesus with the weapons of his enemy, and we wonder why the war is going so badly. Please, everybody, stop.
"The true fear of God and charity are fallen and grown cold. Our life is spent in contention and in every manner of sin. We dispute, not as to the way by which we may come to Christ, which is to correct our lives, but rather as to the state and office of Christ, where he now is and what he is doing, how he is seated at the right hand of the Father, and how he is one with the Father; likewise with regard to the Trinity, predestination, free will; so, also, of God, the angels, the state of souls after this life, and other like things, which do not need to be known for salvation by faith. . . . Nor if these are known do they make a man better, as Paul says, 'Though I understand all mysteries, and have not love, it profiteth me nothing.' This perverse curiosity engenders worse evils. Men are puffed up with knowledge or with a false opinion of knowledge and look down upon others. Pride is followed by cruelty and persecution so that now scarcely anyone is able to endure another who differs at all from him. Although opinions are almost as numerous as men, nevertheless there is hardly any sect that does not condemn all others and desire to reign alone. Hence arise banishments, chains, imprisonments, stakes, and gallows and this miserable rage to visit daily penalties upon those who differ from the mighty about matters hitherto unknown, for so many centuries disputed, and not yet cleared up.
"If, however, there is someone who strives . . . to live justly and innocently, then all others with one accord cry out against him if he differ from them in anything, and they confidently pronounce him a heretic on the ground that he seeks to be justified by works. Horrible crimes of which he never dreamed are attributed to him, and the common people are prejudiced by slander until they consider it a crime merely to hear him speak. Hence arises such cruel rage that some are so incensed by calumny as to be infuriated when the victim is first strangled instead of being burned alive at a slow fire. This is cruel enough, but a more capital offense is added when this conduct is justified under the robe of Christ and is defended as being in accord with his will, when Satan could not devise anything more repugnant to the nature and will of Christ."
This was written in 1554, which makes me rejoin my chorus of, "There is nothing new under the sun!" Interestingly, and thankfully, we don't often kill dissenters these days, so at least that's some progress. But we still shout each other down, call each other idiots, and assume only the best about ourselves. It's interesting, Theodore Beza, John Calvin's successor in Geneva saw this call for religious liberty as "a most diabolical dogma, because it means that everyone should be left to go to hell in his own way" (cited from Lindberg, p. 163). Beza seemed to be a mostly tolerant person. He presented the Reformed position at the Colloquy of Poissy in 1561 in such a winsome and conciliatory way that he had the Catholic delegation eating from his hand until he said something a little too harsh about the Eucharist. However, his statement about Castellio and religious liberty is pretty disturbing. It plays right in with the idea from this time period that, because the Catholic church is the establishment, and because the Lutheran church is too firmly rooted to be extirpated, we'll have these two get along. But anything else (radicals, Anabaptists, etc.) has no right to exist. Was there not a chance that the Lutherans could learn from some of the smaller sects? Or does this just confirm my suspicion that then, as now, religion is inextricably tangled with power and politics? It makes me shudder to answer the question, because Jesus seemed to hand power to his enemies to show them that he truly held it. But we constantly walk away from his path. We continue to fight the battles of Jesus with the weapons of his enemy, and we wonder why the war is going so badly. Please, everybody, stop.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Wacky Reformation universalism
I ran across this quote from Sebastian Franck, a Reformation era Spiritualist, that sounds like something CS Lewis might have said: "I have my brothers among the Turks, Papists, Jews and all peoples. Not that they are Turks, Jews, Papists and Sectaries or will remain so; in the evening they will be called into the vineyard and given the same wage as we."
I'm not a fan of the small amount of Spiritualist writing I've read, but gosh, this is a smart observation. From memory of the "overly kind" employer story, I think this is a pretty fair application. I don't even think I would categorize it as a versejack. More food for thought.
I'm not a fan of the small amount of Spiritualist writing I've read, but gosh, this is a smart observation. From memory of the "overly kind" employer story, I think this is a pretty fair application. I don't even think I would categorize it as a versejack. More food for thought.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
I'm not sure what to call this post
Springing a bit from the previous post and from continued reading in church history, moments ago, I was overwhelmed with a sense of the coming judgment. Specifically, the judgment by Jesus of his Body. The train of thought clacked along thusly (and given my reading of theses and articles from the Reformation period, why not format them so?):
1. "Heresy" was brutally rooted out by both Catholics and Protestants.
2. When the "heretics" were being martyred, they often underwent torture that makes Gitmo and Abu Ghraib look very, very tame. When the "Fourteen of Meaux" were being tried/tortured, six of them consented to confessing to a priest to avoid having their tongues cut out, but they were all burned anyway.
3. Sebastian Castellio astutely noted that "to burn a heretic is not to defend a doctrine, but to kill a man."
4. This kind of torture over doctrine, while understandable if you believe that heresy is a cancer that must be cut off to save the larger body of the church/society, completely misses the point of Jesus's humble service to one another, even to death (of self). Besides, the spectacle of cutting off the cancer often caused the cancer to spread, as was the case in the early church.
5. From my emotional point of view, I think God's judgment will be more lenient on those who were tormented because of their beliefs about him, even if they weren't totally orthodox.
6. I think God's judgment would be particularly harsh on those who tortured and killed over doctrine, including people like John Calvin.
7. I also think Calvin will be accorded mercy because his heart seems to have had a fairly pure motive.
8. Following from this (il)logic, I'm not sure doctrine is such a big concern in the big picture. Service and emptying of self is a gigantic concern. Don't get me wrong: Doctrine is important, in that we must ensure we are taking part in God's story in a faithful way.
9. This leads me down an uncomfortable path, because right now I'm feeling that it will be "stupid" people who absolutely emptied themselves in this age that will be shown most faithful in the age to come. I've tended to try to be "right" while serving a moderate amount. While comparison with other saints is invalidated, I personally want to serve Jesus in the most robust way possible. I've been wrong. I don't want to forget this feeling of absolute desire to pour out my life in service to others.
10. At the end of the day (or the age as the case may be), the ideas the church is maximizing on will be shown futile in the overflow of God's inordinate grace and mercy. However, if the church fixated on service such as adopting every baby that was about to be aborted, no questions asked; radical action to stop the killing in Iraq and Afghanistan (first, then Darfur, Burma, North Korea, and so on); giving up control of things that should be left in the hands of God; loving homosexuals rather than furrowing our brows at them; etc., God would be delighted that his people were showing his grace and mercy. At that point he could condemn whom he chose, and as I posted a couple of weeks ago, I fear that quantity may be less than I always thought. Also, the surprise will come when it's mostly ecclesiastical (Evangelical, whatever) leaders who will be condemned first if anyone is.
11. Is it possible that judgment will be based on service, not doctrine?
1. "Heresy" was brutally rooted out by both Catholics and Protestants.
2. When the "heretics" were being martyred, they often underwent torture that makes Gitmo and Abu Ghraib look very, very tame. When the "Fourteen of Meaux" were being tried/tortured, six of them consented to confessing to a priest to avoid having their tongues cut out, but they were all burned anyway.
3. Sebastian Castellio astutely noted that "to burn a heretic is not to defend a doctrine, but to kill a man."
4. This kind of torture over doctrine, while understandable if you believe that heresy is a cancer that must be cut off to save the larger body of the church/society, completely misses the point of Jesus's humble service to one another, even to death (of self). Besides, the spectacle of cutting off the cancer often caused the cancer to spread, as was the case in the early church.
5. From my emotional point of view, I think God's judgment will be more lenient on those who were tormented because of their beliefs about him, even if they weren't totally orthodox.
6. I think God's judgment would be particularly harsh on those who tortured and killed over doctrine, including people like John Calvin.
7. I also think Calvin will be accorded mercy because his heart seems to have had a fairly pure motive.
8. Following from this (il)logic, I'm not sure doctrine is such a big concern in the big picture. Service and emptying of self is a gigantic concern. Don't get me wrong: Doctrine is important, in that we must ensure we are taking part in God's story in a faithful way.
9. This leads me down an uncomfortable path, because right now I'm feeling that it will be "stupid" people who absolutely emptied themselves in this age that will be shown most faithful in the age to come. I've tended to try to be "right" while serving a moderate amount. While comparison with other saints is invalidated, I personally want to serve Jesus in the most robust way possible. I've been wrong. I don't want to forget this feeling of absolute desire to pour out my life in service to others.
10. At the end of the day (or the age as the case may be), the ideas the church is maximizing on will be shown futile in the overflow of God's inordinate grace and mercy. However, if the church fixated on service such as adopting every baby that was about to be aborted, no questions asked; radical action to stop the killing in Iraq and Afghanistan (first, then Darfur, Burma, North Korea, and so on); giving up control of things that should be left in the hands of God; loving homosexuals rather than furrowing our brows at them; etc., God would be delighted that his people were showing his grace and mercy. At that point he could condemn whom he chose, and as I posted a couple of weeks ago, I fear that quantity may be less than I always thought. Also, the surprise will come when it's mostly ecclesiastical (Evangelical, whatever) leaders who will be condemned first if anyone is.
11. Is it possible that judgment will be based on service, not doctrine?
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Zionism
My co-workers and I just wrapped up a study of Amos today. If you're looking for a great way to study a prophet, check this out. We talked about the closing lines which describe the Jewish return from exile. The question came up whether this referred to today or to the future. (I don't see "new wine dripping from the mountains" yet, so it must be future. . . . I'm aware of the silliness of begging that out of the metaphorical.) My old Dispensational Zionist tendencies would say, absolutely, there will come a time when the reconstituted Israel will have a sweet honey of a deal with immense productivity and peace on all sides (that is, the heel of their sandal boots on the throats of the Muslims all around them). Today that seems arbitrary to me, like God has a cosmic checklist he's using to clean up a mess created by his poor planning. "Why did I choose those Jews if all along I was going use these precocious Christians? I guess need do some funky maneuvering so I don't look like I'm abandoning them. They'll get earthly props for a bit before we get to the real action in heaven. Party goin' all eternity long! (Then I'll abandon them anyway.)" (As if we Christians were that precocious.)
Some people call the view that the Christians took the Jews' place "replacement theology," and they say it with a really derisive tone. My understanding of replacement theology is where we take a few words from the Bible and replace their intended meaning with another meaning. Which is what the anti-"replacement theology" folks do. (And that's not just relative to the Jewish position in God's program. We do it to the Bible all the time.)
The smack between the eyes that Dan brought up in our study was that we're ignoring the call of Amos (and the rest of the Bible) to take care of all of God's creation in humility and service by subjecting ourselves to an erroneous understanding of Scripture. There are congregations of Christians and governmental teams who devote vast amounts of time and money to oppressing the neighbors of the Jews because they think the Bible tells them to. Nothing could be further from Jesus's heart! Read the gospel of Matthew and see how every action of Jesus seems to reflect something from the life of Moses, David, Aaron, the prophets or Israel itself. Matthew shows Jesus to be the new Moses, the new David, the new Israel. Moses was in the wilderness for forty years; Jesus for forty days. Jesus gathered twelve new patriarchs around himself. Jesus was in the earth for three days as Jonah was inside the fish. Jesus led the creation in a new exodus. Everything Jesus did screams that he's the new Israel, the true Israel God always intended! Those who choose to follow Jesus are Abraham's children as Paul points out in Galatians, whether Jew or Gentile.
People who claim to be working to fulfill "prophecy" by helping political "Israel" to oppress their neighbors are directly controverting Jesus's commands. Surely, God has permitted this abominable diversion into the story for a reason. But I don't think it's part of God's "perfect will" such as that may be. The accuser of the saints, that ancient serpent, delights to see people who believe they are following Jesus turning their eyes away from his desire for love and service to militance and hate.
Some people call the view that the Christians took the Jews' place "replacement theology," and they say it with a really derisive tone. My understanding of replacement theology is where we take a few words from the Bible and replace their intended meaning with another meaning. Which is what the anti-"replacement theology" folks do. (And that's not just relative to the Jewish position in God's program. We do it to the Bible all the time.)
The smack between the eyes that Dan brought up in our study was that we're ignoring the call of Amos (and the rest of the Bible) to take care of all of God's creation in humility and service by subjecting ourselves to an erroneous understanding of Scripture. There are congregations of Christians and governmental teams who devote vast amounts of time and money to oppressing the neighbors of the Jews because they think the Bible tells them to. Nothing could be further from Jesus's heart! Read the gospel of Matthew and see how every action of Jesus seems to reflect something from the life of Moses, David, Aaron, the prophets or Israel itself. Matthew shows Jesus to be the new Moses, the new David, the new Israel. Moses was in the wilderness for forty years; Jesus for forty days. Jesus gathered twelve new patriarchs around himself. Jesus was in the earth for three days as Jonah was inside the fish. Jesus led the creation in a new exodus. Everything Jesus did screams that he's the new Israel, the true Israel God always intended! Those who choose to follow Jesus are Abraham's children as Paul points out in Galatians, whether Jew or Gentile.
People who claim to be working to fulfill "prophecy" by helping political "Israel" to oppress their neighbors are directly controverting Jesus's commands. Surely, God has permitted this abominable diversion into the story for a reason. But I don't think it's part of God's "perfect will" such as that may be. The accuser of the saints, that ancient serpent, delights to see people who believe they are following Jesus turning their eyes away from his desire for love and service to militance and hate.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Legacy
I attended the Urban Youth Workers' Institute conference last week(end). Good conference, but I was an exhibitor, so I didn't get to attend any workshops. (I was too distracted by the printer shipping the wrong books to place on everyone's chair.) So one of the best things about the conference was meeting new friends. I had great conversations with many people about the role of Scripture in their lives and evangelism.
The theme of the conference was "Legacy." An interesting thought emerged from this theme in one of the plenary sessions. Harvey Carey, a pastor from Detroit, spoke of legacy building on previous legacy. He called on the story of Elijah and Elisha as a example. Elisha asked for a double portion of Elijah's spirit, and seemingly carried Elijah's fantastic accomplishments to an even greater level. The question is, how does this impact us today? Carey pointed out that when we're talking about legacy, we speak of Martin Luther King, Jr. among others, usually people who did great things half a century ago. His challenge is to take King's mantle and do even greater things.
Carey also pointed out that Jesus told his disciples that they would do greater things than he. Where did that go? He took a jab at dispensationalism: "Are you telling me that my God can't do whatever he wants today?" I've been wondering about that a quite a bit lately. What's to say that this restoration of creation that Jesus started bringing about isn't supposed to continue today, e.g., healing of disease, etc.? I'm taking a systematic theology class at Fuller this summer that will address this, so I'm excited to explore this idea of healing further. Coming from my very conservative background, it surprises me to say this. But I'm feeling more and more that Christians need to look at what God is trying to accomplish in the world, and I don't think it's only Pietistic "heart change."
So whether legacy implies some filial or civic or spiritual significance, I think we should heed Carey's word and work through God's grace to bring the restoration of Jesus even more than those before us.
The theme of the conference was "Legacy." An interesting thought emerged from this theme in one of the plenary sessions. Harvey Carey, a pastor from Detroit, spoke of legacy building on previous legacy. He called on the story of Elijah and Elisha as a example. Elisha asked for a double portion of Elijah's spirit, and seemingly carried Elijah's fantastic accomplishments to an even greater level. The question is, how does this impact us today? Carey pointed out that when we're talking about legacy, we speak of Martin Luther King, Jr. among others, usually people who did great things half a century ago. His challenge is to take King's mantle and do even greater things.
Carey also pointed out that Jesus told his disciples that they would do greater things than he. Where did that go? He took a jab at dispensationalism: "Are you telling me that my God can't do whatever he wants today?" I've been wondering about that a quite a bit lately. What's to say that this restoration of creation that Jesus started bringing about isn't supposed to continue today, e.g., healing of disease, etc.? I'm taking a systematic theology class at Fuller this summer that will address this, so I'm excited to explore this idea of healing further. Coming from my very conservative background, it surprises me to say this. But I'm feeling more and more that Christians need to look at what God is trying to accomplish in the world, and I don't think it's only Pietistic "heart change."
So whether legacy implies some filial or civic or spiritual significance, I think we should heed Carey's word and work through God's grace to bring the restoration of Jesus even more than those before us.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
The Bible rebound
Take that title how you like. Have I been reading a poorly formatted Bible and now I'm jaded, cynical and hurt? Was the breakup messy? Did I say, "I'll never read the Bible again!"? Now I'm on the rebound, reading The Books of The Bible (opens in a new window), and I think we might be together for a long, long time? Well in truth, that's pretty much the case. Sorry to set up the drama, but that's not what this post is about.
Nathan asked if I could post pictures of my copy of The Books of The Bible that was subject to rebinding. A colleague had a local shop bind up a few; some in lambskin, some in hardcover. I'm not sure exactly the price, but I'm guessing it can be done for something in the range of $50-$100, depending on who does it and what cover you choose.
It seems the process involves removing the published cover, adding endsheets, sewing the binding, then gluing the endsheets to the amazing cover. The group that did ours, Rahm Bookbinding in Colorado Springs, did an amazing job. They even foil stamped the name on the spine and added a ribbon.
If you're interested in a beautifully formatted Bible that will last a long time, order a copy here (opens in a new window) for about $15 with shipping. Then pony up the bucks to get it rebound, and you'll have a great Bible. As someone employed by the publisher, I have to say, I think the ones we sell are just fine. (Let the reader understand: This blog in no way represents International Bible Society's views, probably on anything.) However, I didn't throw my copy in a backpack, so as a gentle user, I may not be the best person to vouch for durability. I gave away my Orange Peel copy after about six months of regular use, and it still looked new. Now we're using the leather one, and it's great.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Eternal security
I had lunch with my blog reader yesterday, and we talked about a few fascinating topics. One of them was the concept of eternal security. For those who don't know what this means, I think that's a good thing. Unfortunately, many of us know and crave this idea.
I am very sympathetic with people who are desperately seeking assurance that they are saved. It's a basic drive of humanity to know that their destiny is secure when this life is over, as it surely will be. I feel I can defend that it's a "basic drive" given my study of the medieval church and our own day. Perhaps it's basic to fallen humanity, but I think at some point everyone in all times is seized with curiosity/fear about what will happen to them. I'm sure this is begging the question, but I would say that those who don't wonder have destroyed their conscience so much that it doesn't matter to them.
With that massive caveat, I want to tear apart this obsession. I think fixation on eternal security is narcissistic. The foundation of the Christian faith is that we "Love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength" and "Love our neighbor as ourselves." This says nothing about obsessing about ourselves. In fact, if we obsess about ourselves in this manner, it diverts our attention from God and neighbor. Conversely, if we obsess over what it means to be a Christian (loving God and neighbor) there won't be time to obsess about destiny. Besides, if we obsess over loving God and neighbor, I think it's quite clear that our destiny is secure. (I'm not talking about neurotic obsession as much as assiduous attention to the matter.)
I hear it often enough: "How do I know I'm saved?" I can say that I know God is gracious and merciful. I think that's enough. But I would direct the querier to go buy lunch for a poor person and have a humanizing conversation with them. Or go build a deck for the widow next door. Or take coffee orders for the guys who work in the warehouse. Some navel-gazing is fine. That's a human capacity, and a necessary one. But for people who struggle year in and year out with this question, they need to realize that they're harming God's intention for his image in this idolatrous pursuit.
I'm not going to go as far as (or anywhere near) Thomas Müntzer, leader in the German Peasant's War 1524-1526: "For anyone who does not feel the spirit of Christ within him, or is not quite sure of having it, is not a member of Christ, but of the devil . . . " I'm more and more convinced that God grieves over his fallen creation. He's angry with those who would impede people getting to know him, and he feels sorry for those in bondage to bad thinking. (I apologize for this overly emotional portrayal of God.) He, again, is unbelievably gracious. If a stereotypical conservative Republican got to know God, he would be convinced that God was a devil Democrat, since God isn't interested in killing terrorists. God grieves that terrorists/conservative Republicans would kill other people, but he also grieves that they are so blinded by stupidity.
Do you want eternal security? Abandon your right to yourself. Love and serve God, your neighbors and your enemies recklessly. The rest is on God's mercy.
I am very sympathetic with people who are desperately seeking assurance that they are saved. It's a basic drive of humanity to know that their destiny is secure when this life is over, as it surely will be. I feel I can defend that it's a "basic drive" given my study of the medieval church and our own day. Perhaps it's basic to fallen humanity, but I think at some point everyone in all times is seized with curiosity/fear about what will happen to them. I'm sure this is begging the question, but I would say that those who don't wonder have destroyed their conscience so much that it doesn't matter to them.
With that massive caveat, I want to tear apart this obsession. I think fixation on eternal security is narcissistic. The foundation of the Christian faith is that we "Love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength" and "Love our neighbor as ourselves." This says nothing about obsessing about ourselves. In fact, if we obsess about ourselves in this manner, it diverts our attention from God and neighbor. Conversely, if we obsess over what it means to be a Christian (loving God and neighbor) there won't be time to obsess about destiny. Besides, if we obsess over loving God and neighbor, I think it's quite clear that our destiny is secure. (I'm not talking about neurotic obsession as much as assiduous attention to the matter.)
I hear it often enough: "How do I know I'm saved?" I can say that I know God is gracious and merciful. I think that's enough. But I would direct the querier to go buy lunch for a poor person and have a humanizing conversation with them. Or go build a deck for the widow next door. Or take coffee orders for the guys who work in the warehouse. Some navel-gazing is fine. That's a human capacity, and a necessary one. But for people who struggle year in and year out with this question, they need to realize that they're harming God's intention for his image in this idolatrous pursuit.
I'm not going to go as far as (or anywhere near) Thomas Müntzer, leader in the German Peasant's War 1524-1526: "For anyone who does not feel the spirit of Christ within him, or is not quite sure of having it, is not a member of Christ, but of the devil . . . " I'm more and more convinced that God grieves over his fallen creation. He's angry with those who would impede people getting to know him, and he feels sorry for those in bondage to bad thinking. (I apologize for this overly emotional portrayal of God.) He, again, is unbelievably gracious. If a stereotypical conservative Republican got to know God, he would be convinced that God was a devil Democrat, since God isn't interested in killing terrorists. God grieves that terrorists/conservative Republicans would kill other people, but he also grieves that they are so blinded by stupidity.
Do you want eternal security? Abandon your right to yourself. Love and serve God, your neighbors and your enemies recklessly. The rest is on God's mercy.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Heresy on parade
I'm going to approach this post in a decidedly "What if?" posture. I'm not sure I want to display myself as a heretic, but in keeping with the Quibbling spirit (see first post), this is a great place to process externally and get feedback. Interestingly, I'm sitting in Church History class learning about Luther, and I'm all filled with reforming fire. I'm not presenting any new ideas here, though. Maybe just a slightly different perspective.
This all has to do with universalism, the idea that all will get to heaven. Studying the Middle Ages, I see how jacked almost all of their theology was. In my upbringing, I was taught that Catholics aren't saved. But is that to say that no one was saved from 300 to 1521? A popular Evangelical phrase is "Sincerity never saved anybody." But these people were genuinely sincere and tried their best to do what they knew to get them to God. What is a God of mercy to do?
Before you say that it's obvious that God saves those who believe and behave rightly, let's take a look at Evangelicalism. I sincerely believe that Evangelical theology is as many degrees off as medieval Catholic theology, but just a different direction. How many degrees off is too far off for God?
What about Hitler? Stalin? Tough cases. God can decide that (as well as all our fates). But God is working to recreate human hearts as well as his entire creation. These are some preliminary thoughts. I'll work on some more thoughts. Feed me back.
This all has to do with universalism, the idea that all will get to heaven. Studying the Middle Ages, I see how jacked almost all of their theology was. In my upbringing, I was taught that Catholics aren't saved. But is that to say that no one was saved from 300 to 1521? A popular Evangelical phrase is "Sincerity never saved anybody." But these people were genuinely sincere and tried their best to do what they knew to get them to God. What is a God of mercy to do?
Before you say that it's obvious that God saves those who believe and behave rightly, let's take a look at Evangelicalism. I sincerely believe that Evangelical theology is as many degrees off as medieval Catholic theology, but just a different direction. How many degrees off is too far off for God?
What about Hitler? Stalin? Tough cases. God can decide that (as well as all our fates). But God is working to recreate human hearts as well as his entire creation. These are some preliminary thoughts. I'll work on some more thoughts. Feed me back.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Guilty
I just read in NT Wright's "Jesus and the Victory of God" a convicting little passage. Wright explains the temptation of Jesus in a different way than I've ever heard. To be honest, I'm not sure I can articulate why I thought Jesus was tempted other than to validate a point in Hebrews: "For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin" (TNIV). Doubtless, those are related.
Wright's point, however, is that the temptation is much more related to Jesus's vocational calling. Jesus was called to be Messiah, to lead Israel (and the world) on a new exodus, to defeat the power of evil behind the liminal enemies. (Sidenote: A few pages earlier, Wright blew my mind by saying that our conventional enemies, the people we want to blow up or make look silly, are fellow sufferers under the regime of sin and death. No need to fight and kill them; we must face and defeat death and sin through Jesus.) So given Jesus's calling, his temptation was to take a shortcut. I'm not sure I can figure out all three temptations, but Wright summarizes them this way: "The pull of hunger, the lure of cheap and quick 'success', the desire to change the vocation to be light of the world into the vocation to bring all nations under his powerful rule by other means."
If Jesus's calling were to gain control of the nations, this would have been an easy out. But Jesus was trying to reform the nations, something that could not be done if he submitted himself to creation's enemy, the accuser, the satan. National Day of Prayer being yesterday, I heard a lot of prayer which in my mind pointed to Jesus taking control of the nations. In fact, I've prayed that myself in some ways. I'm afraid this illustrates that I would have fallen to the temptation to take the easy way out. (Oh, and I do.)
God's calling is for us to submit to him, but in a really strange way, submit to evil. That's where suffering becomes redemptive. Evil can pour out its worst on us, yet God is abundantly sufficient to see us through the temptation of an easy fix. We must be disciplined to carry out our vocation of redeeming the world through Jesus in the God-ordained way. Yes, I believe this precludes bombing "terrorists," but on a much more practical level, it demands that we open our hands and let God direct the redemption, rather than grabbing for control to do things our own manipulative way. And Jesus is our high priest who completely empathizes with us. That is immensely comforting to me when I understand it in this context.
Wright's point, however, is that the temptation is much more related to Jesus's vocational calling. Jesus was called to be Messiah, to lead Israel (and the world) on a new exodus, to defeat the power of evil behind the liminal enemies. (Sidenote: A few pages earlier, Wright blew my mind by saying that our conventional enemies, the people we want to blow up or make look silly, are fellow sufferers under the regime of sin and death. No need to fight and kill them; we must face and defeat death and sin through Jesus.) So given Jesus's calling, his temptation was to take a shortcut. I'm not sure I can figure out all three temptations, but Wright summarizes them this way: "The pull of hunger, the lure of cheap and quick 'success', the desire to change the vocation to be light of the world into the vocation to bring all nations under his powerful rule by other means."
If Jesus's calling were to gain control of the nations, this would have been an easy out. But Jesus was trying to reform the nations, something that could not be done if he submitted himself to creation's enemy, the accuser, the satan. National Day of Prayer being yesterday, I heard a lot of prayer which in my mind pointed to Jesus taking control of the nations. In fact, I've prayed that myself in some ways. I'm afraid this illustrates that I would have fallen to the temptation to take the easy way out. (Oh, and I do.)
God's calling is for us to submit to him, but in a really strange way, submit to evil. That's where suffering becomes redemptive. Evil can pour out its worst on us, yet God is abundantly sufficient to see us through the temptation of an easy fix. We must be disciplined to carry out our vocation of redeeming the world through Jesus in the God-ordained way. Yes, I believe this precludes bombing "terrorists," but on a much more practical level, it demands that we open our hands and let God direct the redemption, rather than grabbing for control to do things our own manipulative way. And Jesus is our high priest who completely empathizes with us. That is immensely comforting to me when I understand it in this context.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)