Searching for Propositions of Truth

Lots of reading this week. Maybe not the best thing, since I leave for camp tomorrow and haven't started packing yet... but oh well. It'll all get done one way or another. I got a shipment of books that I got with birthday money (thanks Aunt Betty!) when we got back from the lake, and I'm already done with one of them. The other three are The Christian Life, by Sinclair B. Ferguson, The Cross of Christ, by John Stott, and a study book based on the Westminster Shorter Catechism. But this isn't about that.

This is about Why We're Not Emergent (by Two Guys Who Should Be), Kevin DeYoung and Ted Kluck. It's 250 pages, and I read it in four days. Needless to say, I really liked this book. Not only was it intellectually challenging (mainly the chapters by Kevin DeYoung, a reformed pastor), but it was also emotionally stirring (especially the chapters by Ted Kluck). Above all, it was written with a posture of love for others. This does not mean blanket acceptance or tip-toeing hopes. Both authors, out of love, call emergents to account for their words, their actions, and their theology (or conspicuous lack thereof). Emergents will be offended if they pick up this book, just as I was from reading The God Delusion. But there is a profound difference here. I was offended and outraged because Dawkins misrepresented and misread the Bible, and above all, his attitude was one of arrogance: faith in anything (does that include scientific theories?) is incompatible with reason. But with this book, the authors' attitude is one of love, encouraging them to continue in the good things they embrace while seriously thinking about the things they are so quick to reject.

Maybe before I go any farther I should try and describe the emergent/ing church (apparently there is some difference, but I can't figure out what it is). I say try because this, as the authors say, is harder than "nailing jello to a wall." They reject modernism, yet thoroughly use modern techniques of argument (bulleted lists, from/to's !?). They are all about truth and salvation as journeys (searching), not as events. The phrase "searching for Jesus is cool: finding Him isn't." definitely applies. They're big on universal acceptance and tolerance... except for those who argue for concrete moral limits and conditions for church membership. Frustratingly, they're largely opposed to statements of faith or any concrete doctrine, preferring to deal with "proposition" instead. Most of all, anything they produce somehow gets linked back to a "conversation." Books (the ones on the right side are by emergent authors), blogs, discussion-based sermons, retreats, coffee shops, anything. I think the idea is great (how can we communicate what we believe if we're not in conversation with them?) but it gets old pretty quick. So, not feeling like I've done a very good job, that's the emergent church in a nutshell. They're mostly twenty-somethings (which I am), like indie music (which I love), love coffee and guiness (which I'm crazy about), and love Jesus (obviously, me too).

The books scope is those facets of emergent thought (it's a little bold to call it theology) that throw up red flags in the rest of Christendom, whether reformed, evangelical, fundamentalist, or any combination of those. As a result, aspects of emergent thought that the authors agree with go largely undiscussed (but not unmentioned). Social justice, care for the poor and widows, love as a worthy pursuit, and authenticity in worship are all pieces that I'm crazy about. But they aren't the main points.

In my opinion, the emergent church suffers from an overly "fuzzy" view of Jesus. They are of the "great moral teacher" persuasion, but also with elements of some sort of cosmic therapist mixed in. Sort of a Ghandi meets Dr. Phil. One upshot of this view is that emergents believe that people are inherently good. Jesus came because he wanted to make good people even better. (This might be wrong. I'm not emergent, so I can't speak with any authority about this. Besides, they don't really recognize any central or unifying authority on their beliefs, so technically, I'm just as qualified to speak for them as anyone else.) One aspect of popular thought that I cannot get over is the belief, whether emergent, secular humanist, or anything else under the sun, that people are inherently good. I see people ruined by wealth, seduced by lust, and indifferent to the poor. I see myself struggling with arrogance, getting angry at others for menial things, and indifferent to the poor. I see the state of the world around me. I see the ugliness of my sin. And if I didn't know Christ and the free grace He offers, I wouldn't know what to do with myself.

This grace is something that you rarely, if ever, hear about in the emergent church. Their argument is that "the meat of the gospel has to do with justice, compassion, and transformation (186)." Yes those things are there, but that's not the meat of the gospel. The week leading up to and the events following after Jesus' crucifixion are the meat of the gospel. If a call to justice, compassion, and transformation are given without the means of effecting those calls provided, there is no good news at all. Christ came atone for sin and reconcile His people to His Father. Yes, Christ's example is one we should follow, but there is so much more.

Probably my favorite part of this book was DeYoung's epilogue. He issues calls to both emergents and the church in general from the book of Revelation, specifically the letters to the churches. There are seven churches addressed, symbolizing the universal church (the number seven symbolizes completeness). "In other words, the problems in these seven churches are the root problems in all churches. Their strengths are our strengths and their weaknesses are our weaknesses (239)." He encourages the non-emergent church to let their light shine: many congregations believe all the right things, but they make no effort to live a life of love for neighbors. He pleads with the emergent church to not be prey to false teachings. Furthermore, that they understand the difference between love and tolerance. When we ignore someone's sin because we think it is for their own good, that isn't love: it's unfaithfulness. Yes, accept them, welcome them, love them. But the best way to love someone is to remind them of the gospel, whether they are a Christian or not.

In your sin, you are worse off than you could ever imagine. Christ loves you more than you could ever hope. When we trust in the atoning power of His blood, through faith, His blessings are more than we could ever have asked for.

Why, Duncan, Titus

Well, I'm sick. That's unfortunate, because it means that I can't work today (since until camp starts, I'm working as a contractor's assistant), which means that I'm not earning any money. One good thing about it, though, is that it gives me a chance to catch up on a few things: do some desk work, start preparing for the Bible Study I'm leading next semester, and toss a post or two up here. And, on the bright side, at least I wasn't sick on my birthday (yesterday) and hopefully this gets my 'summer cold' out of the way before camp. All the same, though, stuffy noses and itchy eyes are no walk in the park.

I finished The River Why last week. The book is in my lap in that picture (and no, I'm not the 'long-haired, freaky people:' that's my campus minister). One thing is for sure, that I missed a lot of references, allusions, etc, when I read this my senior year of high school. References to the Tao Te Ching, the Mahabharata, the Qu'ran, and more all flew over my head then, but this time through I was able to pick them out. One of the character's names is Arjuna, for pete's sake! (Granted, he is a slingshot-wielding kid instead of a half-god archer.)

Another thing that stood out to me, especially after reading a lot of David James Duncan's other books, is the fact that I think Titus is, to a large extent, based off of himself. His 'universalist mysticism' (I might have just made that up) and his knowledge of wisdom literature and cultural epics from all over the place are the biggest indicators to me, but also I think the love of fishing, and maybe even the semi-sentience of animals are part of him as well. With that observation, though, I was a little surprised by one of Titus's conversations with Gus.

Gus has just been on this devastating emotional roller coaster, and Titus invites him back to Portland to philosophize for consolation (and enjoy some adult beverages as well). They get to talking and thinking, Titus quoting wisdom literature that Gus is sure to not have known, and eventually they get to this thing called a 'soul pole.' I won't talk about exactly what it is, since I think you ought to read the book for yourself, but for those who have, this'll help them know where to look. Anyway, Gus wants to 'find his soul pole.' So Titus, being the guru he is, leads Gus in what I can describe only as 'the sinner's prayer' for mystics.

You know what I mean: at rallies and conventions, a speaker gives the gospel message and then invites whoever feels God working in their hearts to say a prayer with them. It's a 'repeat after me' kinda thing. Now I'm not saying that people can't be saved through that, but I think that more often than not, people don't really understand the gospel when they say that prayer. Either because they've only heard one side of it and therefore aren't really sure of what it means for them (and they feel pressured to say it), or because this is their 17th time saying it, and they don't understand that Christ payed once for our sins, and once we are washed clean in His blood, we are justified. It doesn't take multiple washings. It doesn't take us 'rededicating our rededications.' It takes Christ.

The reason I think this is strange, is because David James Duncan is passionately against the whole right-wing, evangelical, institutionalized way of religion, yet he uses one of their central techniques at a pivotal moment in his protagonist's life. I don't know, maybe I'm making mountains out of mole-hills, but I think that's a big deal. This book was written something like 25 years ago, so maybe he hadn't fully fleshed out what he thought about mega-churches by then. Or maybe, in spite of all the problems he sees with them, he thinks the guiding hand of a sincere mentor in a sincere disciple's life can turn even that into a positive thing. I don't know. What do you think?

Obsession

Well, school has been done for almost a week. More, if you consider that my last final was ridiculously easy. I'm at home for another couple days, and then it's off to Florida for RUF Summer Conference. And then back home for a few days, then off to Austin for a wedding. Then back home for a few days, then off to Virginia for a weekend at the lake. Then back home for a few days, then camp! But in spite of all the summer preparations, packing up and moving from Raleigh, and working for Dad the past three days, I have been able to get some reading done.

David James Duncan is definitely in my top five of favorite authors. God Laughs and Plays, a collection of his essays, articles, and speeches (maybe?) was wonderful. Lots of good quotes, lots of good thoughts. And most importantly, even though it is clear that he is passionate about what he believes, he doesn't cram it down your throat or become overly preachy. He is well-versed in the art of rhetoric.

River Teeth was highly enjoyable. I still remember the beach trip where I read the whole thing on the way, and then went back and reread my favorite short stories over the course of the week. In fact, just the other day I was having coffee with a friend, and somehow conversation turned to children's books, and I made the comment that Are You My Mother? always reminds me of the first story in that collection (I can't remember what it's called, but it's about that childhood experience we all have of grabbing the wrong 'mom's' hand or mistaking a stranger for Daddy). Coincidentally, she's the one that recommended The Master and Margarita, and out of gratitude for me actually reading it, she's supposed to be working on The Brothers K this summer.

The Brothers K was ... fantastic. Outstanding. Phenomenal. (Great segue, huh?) Baseball, Russian Literature, Hindu metaphysics, Vietnam, draft-dodgers, and so much more. I highly recommend it. (It's fiction, by the way.)

But I digress. The book I'm currently working on is The River Why. It's 'about' fishing. But not really. It's about Augustine 'Gus' Orviston, the son of a father who is a fly-fishing legend and a mother who is a staunch, unwavering, 'plunker': a bait fisher...woman. He is highly accomplished at both. His little brother, Bill-Bob (his mother names him that mainly to irk his father), in stark contrast to the rest of the family, doesn't care for fishing at all. So fishing is the medium through which Gus evaluates his relationship with his father and mother, their relationship with each other, and most importantly (I think) the medium he must shed and leave behind in order to relate to and love his brother.

One of the things that's struck me on this reading (I read it 4 years ago, my senior year of high school) is what obsession does to a person. With Gus, it's fishing. It starts out as a passion, but quickly turns against him. He hears water even when he's sleeping. He talks to, and weeps over, his pet fish. But most importantly, he looses the ability to talk to people about anything but fishing. That's what obsession does to people: it makes them so preoccupied with one thing that anything else (even good things) loose their flavor.

Darwin complained about this late in his life. As a younger man, he enjoyed the arts, especially good literature. But as he looked back, after much of his research on natural selection, he realized that he had lost all love for Shakespeare. Poetry became dry and boring. And, I would guess, in all of his conversations with others, natural selection, if not the topic, was at the front of his mind. I think to some extent, this can happen with anyone. Hyper-Calvinists, environmentalists, overly-politically minded people, people that get drawn into sports or their jobs, anyone.

The worst kind of obsession, I think, is self-obsession. Pride. I know that you've met someone who wants to talk about nothing but themselves. It gets old fast. Not only is it annoying, I firmly believe that it is idolatry. It's putting yourself before God.

But for most faults, there is a positive side. If we're obsessed with the right things, if our preoccupations are in the right place, they can be for the benefit of others. If service for others is at the front of our minds, even if it's not the center of our conversation, it will flavor our interactions. As always, love for God and love for others should take first place. If it does, our obsession turns to infatuation. What better place to be?

The Devil Went Down to Moscow

I finished a book Saturday! Just in time for me to start a new one for the summer. Just for you curious readers out there, the books I have on my list for the summer are The River Why by David James Duncan, One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck, and maybe some short stories by Graham Greene in between. And that's just the fiction!

Anyway, the book I've been reading for the past couple months was... interesting. I'm sure I'm missing something about it: some social context, some other literary allusion, or something. All the same, I enjoyed it. Mikhail Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita is set in Moscow during Stalin's reign. How it was able to be published (mid 1960's) without heavy censure is a mystery to me.

I don't want to spoil it, but I can say a few things about it. Basically, it's about the chaos that ensues when Satan and a few demons come to Moscow. They set-up shop in a recently deceased author's apartment, and proceed to haunt, terrorize, confuse, and disorient... Moscow. Their focus is on the literary community, and it's because of this that I think Satan and his retinue must represent the communist regime of the early 1900's.

The other plot of the book is the events surrounding Christ's crucifixion. Special detail is given to Pontius Pilate and his Inquisition of Christ before the crucifixion, a conversation with Matthew Levi about the book he is writing (presumably our Gospel of Matthew), and his involvement in the murder of Judas. This narrative is written by one of the authors that get sent to a mental institution after their interaction with Moscow's visitors.

The two story lines are mixed together with little apparent overlap. However, there is one parallel I see between the two stories. In the whole book, Caesar and Stalin are conspicuously absent. Their presence is undeniable: in Moscow, there is a general fear of the political machine that controls the country. In the same way, the strong hand of Caesar seems to always be on Pilate's mind. Their goals of cultural unity and civil peace at the cost of individuality and freedom seem to go hand in hand.

Again, I highly enjoyed this book. It was at times profound, hilarious, confusing, and absurd. But, as I said, I feel like I'm missing something. Maybe this one just takes a little time to sink in.

The God Delusion, Part 5: Survey

As promised, here's a quick overview of The God Delusion with basic chapter descriptions and some basic opinions of mine that result. I'm done with the book, by the way. Maybe there will be another post, but I kinda doubt it. The last few chapters don't really rub me the wrong way like some of the others did. As I said for the first post about this book, I'd much rather talk to people individually about this, rather than send these posts out to everybody (and consequently, nobody). Tim Keller's The Reason for God is next on my list. It should be a refreshing read after this one.

Chapter 1: A Deeply Religious Non-Believer
The t-shirt issue/topic was in this chapter. Basically, it's just his introduction to the book. He points out some of his observations that go into the book (irrationality of treating religion and more 'gingerly' than other topics) and defines some terms that he uses throughout the book. Nothing too controversial here.

Chapter 2: The God Hypothesis
This chapter starts out as a laundry list of basic world-views: Polytheism, Monotheism, and Agnosticism. He points out basic characteristics of each, and some initial impressions that he has of them. He talks about the religious views of America's founding fathers, as well as other notable scientists. Probably most relevant to me, is that this chapter started me realizing that this book wasn't quite written in opposition to my beliefs. Overall, this chapter is a little scattered.

Chapter 3: Arguments for God's Existence
This is a meaty chapter, and a good one to read if you're interested in seeing what others offer as proof for God's existence. He doesn't pull the 'straw man' tactic too much (setting up an argument in such a way that it is easy to dispute, often by simply misrepresenting what it claims), and does a good job of surveying the teleological argument, ontological argument, argument from scripture, as well as other proofs that are offered. One point I appreciated from this chapter was the fact that we must distinguish between what we'd like to be true and what is true (hence, the title of the book). Obviously I disagree with him in the implications of this statement. To me, it means that we must take a serious look at scripture before we claim divine approval of our actions. In addition, it means that we take seriously the things is prescribes (I'm thinking of Sabbath rest: the present we don't want).

Chapter 4: Why There Almost Certainly is No God
This is Dawkins's forte: evolution and natural selection. Most frustrating for me through this chapter was his repeated frustration with people who misrepresent the theory (ie, claiming randomness, statistical impossibility, etc), followed by his own misrepresentation of Biblically sound beliefs. Most often, it's the suggestion that if we're having difficulty scientifically explaining something, that we throw up our hands, chalk it up to God's mystery, and move on. Rather, it is my conviction that we are to use all of our intellectual powers to investigate and appreciate creation so that we might, with an increasingly great sense of awe, worship God.

Chapter 5: The Roots of Religion
Here, Dawkins tries to explain why we have religion using evolutionary theory. I think that it's a pretty weak argument, not to mention disappointing in the way it treats human creativity. Whether you view humanity as made in the image of God or the way that secular humanists do, this view of religion negates the imagination that is inherent to humanity.

Chapter 6: The Roots of Morality: Why Are We Good?
This chapter tried to explain why we are 'good' in evolutionary terms. It works to some extent, but there are some pretty big gaps. He talks about Kant a little, as well as some Bentham and Mill, but trying to explain ethics has always been a difficult pursuit (whether you include God or not) and I don't see this argument holding too much weight with philosophers in the future.

Chapter 7: The 'Good' Book and the Changing Moral Zeitgeist
This is the chapter that angered me the most, and is easily the most densely 'margin noted' section of the book. I already put up one post about it, and could put up many more explaining why I don't agree with this chapter at all. In addition to his misunderstanding of Biblical history and morality, Dawkins offers an argument for why Hitler and Stalin are not proof that Atheism leads to immorality. I'd agree with that, as well as his comments about the tragedy of the fact that religion leads some people to commit heinous crimes in the name of God (bombing abortion clinics, segregation, etc).

Chapter 8: What's Wrong With Religion? Why Be So Hostile?
Homosexuality and abortion are in his sights here, and as usual, he only deals with them to the extent that mainstream evangelical Christianity deals with them. The biggest disagreement I have here is his claim that Christians teach that faith in inherently good, and the more illogical the belief, the more admirable the faith is. I firmly believe that we are to employ both reason and faith in pursuit of truth (and that everyone does it to varying degrees of success).

Chapter 9: Childhood, Abuse, and the Escape From Religion
In this chapter, Dawkins bemoans the practice of labeling children as members of a particular religion. He says that they should be taught how to think, not what to think. Educated, not indoctrinated. I agree that children should be taught how to think, but I'm still undecided on the whole 'Christian children' thing. I need to put more thought into that, specifically in understanding God's covenant promises as applying to 'you and your children.'

Chapter 10: A Much Needed Gap?
I really liked this chapter. Dawkins details how we are creatures of Middle World: there are things too small or too vast for us to comprehend. There are sounds too low or too high for us to hear. There are waves too long or to narrow for us to view. But. With advances in science, the window through which we view the world has been thrown open wider and wider. His conclusion is that we toss the unnecessary, limiting belief in God out the window in light of our own achievements. Mine is that we fall on our knees and worship God for the beauty and majesty and mystery of His creation.

God Delusion, Part 4: Morality

This is going to be, without a doubt, the most stressful week of my semester. I had one test today, have two more this week, my normal reading and homework levels, a major project due, two papers to write for next week, and two presentations to prepare for next week. Thankfully, after that, all I have to worry about is exams. So, here at the outset of this week, I wanted to make sure I took time to do something that relaxes me: reading and writing. The reading part, as you'll see, didn't relax me so much. Hopefully the writing part can help a little.

In talking about Richard Dawkins's book, I've touched on the 'sensitivity' with which we treat religion and why I think it's the case, the problem of Nominal Christianity and the dangers that come with it, and most recently, the fact that this book addresses notions of Christianity that I have problems with just as much as Dawkins does. In this, I haven't really gotten past the first couple chapters of the book, and I'm facing a problem. I'm well into the 7th chapter (275ish) and haven't really written on anything past page 50. I've either got a lot of catching up to do or a lot of stuff to leave behind. What I think I'm going to do is have a post dedicated just to what each chapter addresses and a couple key points or issues I see. That will get me caught up to where I am in the book and allow me to continue my 'rabbit trail' analysis of the book that has characterized my posts so far.

This is not that post. Tonight, I need to write about what I just read (and if you'll remember, did not at all relax me). Chapter 7 is titled 'The 'Good' Book and the Changing Moral Zeitgeist.' What I've read so far is an extremely selective, obviously biased bird's-eye-view of the Old Testament and an argument for why it does not serve as a model for our moral behavior. Dawkins suggests that the two ways scripture could be seen as a guide for moral behavior are as a list of explicit rules (such as the Ten Commandments) or pointing to examples, role models (Jesus, David, etc), of how to live a good life. On the surface, this seems like a reasonable statement. The Bible does have some rules and commandments in it, and it does have lots of stories about men and women that we can draw inspiration from. But, there is a problem with both of these conceptions of morality from scripture.

First, the role model category. Here is Dawkins's introduction to the patriarch, Abraham: "Lot's uncle Abraham was the founding father of all three 'great' monotheistic religions. His patriarchal status renders him only somewhat less likely than God to be taken as a role model. But what modern moralist would wish to follow him? (274)" At this point, I almost threw the book across the room. The very statement that Richard Dawkins intends to discredit Abraham is actually one of the fundamental points of covenant theology! He's right there, he's so close to the truth, and he can't see it! To me, this was the height of the book's misdirected, misleading arguments.

What do I mean that this is the starting point of covenant theology? Covenant theology looks at the Bible as the pattern of God's faithfulness to His chosen people (I touched on this a little bit yesterday with the Sunday hymn). One of the key points of this view of scripture is that we contribute nothing to our salvation. God is the one who initiates the plan of redemption in the wake of the fall, who passes through the animal halves in the covenant ceremony with Abraham (who actually sleeps through the whole thing), who calls His people out of Egypt, who sends Christ, and who will call His own out of the world. From Adam to Noah to Abraham to Moses to David to those in Christ, there is a pattern of covenant promises that God makes and keeps with His people.

With this view, it is no surprise that modern moralists would not want to emulate Abraham. Indeed, he was not chosen for this purpose. Rather, he was chosen by God precisely because there was no one else through whom God's grace would be seen more. Why did God call Paul to minister to the early church? Because there was no one else through whom God's transforming grace could be seen more. Why did he chose Israel? Because he knew there would be no nation more fickle, more wavering than them, and that thus, his faithfulness might be even more apparent. With an understanding of covenant theology, the Old Testament is transformed from a storybook of role models (who are undeniably screwed up) to a beautiful display of God's faithfulness in keeping His promises to His people regardless of their moral laxity. So we see that Dawkins's assessment of Biblical morality being based on role-model emulation is negated. These stories do not exhort us to be like the Biblical heroes: they call us to see God more clearly in the way He acts in spite of these heroes.

In addition, the legalistic notion of morality falls with this covenant theology. From the beginning, the Old Testament laws were not meant for a people to earn their election as God's chosen. God made the covenant with Abraham long before Moses received the law on Mount Siani. Instead, the law was given as a model for Israel's response to this miracle of election. Because the Law is reactionary, it is not inappropriate for us to talk about the spirit of the law. As Christ says, loving the Lord with all our heart, soul, and mind and loving our neighbor as ourselves is a fulfillment of all the law. When we understand the law as a guide to sanctification rather than our earning of salvation, it is clear that morality is not dictated through scripture by a list of rules.

Morality, for the Christian, should not be our efforts to earn salvation or to make ourselves look more like Biblical heroes such as David or Abraham or Moses. Rather, our morality, our striving for right, is to always be a reaction to God's glory as displayed in our salvation.

As I said at the beginning, this statement, this representation of the Old Testament, enraged me. And it's not the only one in this chapter. I've tried to stay away from encouraging you (whoever you are) to encourage others to read this blog, but I'm going to make a minor exception here. If you know someone who is reading this book, Christian or not, please talk to them about it. Whether that means reading it yourself, pointing them to other Christians who have read it, or pointing them my direction, make sure they talk to someone about this book. There are very real misrepresentations of scripture, especially in this chapter, and it would be a great tragedy if Dawkins's misunderstanding of scripture led others to reject its truth.

And on a lighter not, since we're talking about morality and virtue, here's one of my favorite Calvin and Hobbes strips (it and The Far Side are my two favorite comics).

Worship and Prayer

Prayer is not something that my generation takes seriously very often. God gets addressed relentlessly as "daddy," "dude," or "home boy." Reverence is far from consideration, as is a posture of humility and submission. Our prayer is full of us requesting things from God and rarely contains just adoration and praise. We don't thank God for the things He has done: we only ask Him to act in the future. I know that I'm definitely guilty of this from time to time.

One of the means of grace that reorients my prayer life is worship. The hymns that I'm such a fan of (like those that get posted on Sundays) are, in a very real sense, prayers and confessions. They affirm truths from scripture, rejoice in the blessings of salvation, and seek to give glory to God. But more than just the words we sing, worship is a posture before God. It recognizes that He has done great things for us, and as a result, we come to Him in humility and gratitude.

One of my high school graduation gifts was a book called Valley of Vision. I highly recommend it. It is a collection of Puritan prayers on topics as general as sin and prayer or as specific as the love of Christ and God as the source of all good. They serve as a great example to me of how prayer serves as affirmation and thanksgiving, not just supplication or confession. One of my favorites is a prayer on worship. For me, it captures, better than I could ever say it, the posture and aim of worship. Enjoy.

Worship

Glorious God,
It is the flame of my life to worship thee, the crown and glory of my soul to adore thee, heavenly pleasure to approach thee.
Give me power by thy Spirit to help me worship now, that I may forget the world, be brought into fullness of life, be refreshed, comforted, blessed.
Give me knowledge of thy goodness that I might not be over-awed by thy greatness;
Give me Jesus, Son of Man, Son of God, that I might not be terrified, but be drawn near with filial love, with holy boldness;
He is my mediator, brother interpreter, branch, daysman, Lamb; him I glorify, in him I am set on high.
Crowns to give I have none, but what thou hast given I return, content to feel that everything is mine when it is thine, and the more fully mine when I have yielded it to thee.
Let me live wholly to my Saviour, free from distractions, from carking care, from hindrances to the pursuit of the narrow way.
I am pardoned through the blood of Jesus - give me a new sense of it, continue to pardon me by it, may I come every day to the fountain, and every day be washed anew, that I may worship thee always in spirit and truth.

God Delusion, Part 3: Audience

As I get further and further into The God Delusion, I become more and more convinced that this book is not addressed to me. Dawkins attacks Christian beliefs without specifically addressing Christians, yet I get the sense that he hopes Christians will read this book. Because of the way he structures his arguments and the way he characterizes Christians, I can only conclude that this book is written to non-Christians with the hope of shoring up their beliefs and giving them questions to challenge Christians with. There are portions, however, where he gets so caught up in his arguments that I suspect he is thinking "if only Christians would read this, they'd see how ridiculous their beliefs are and turn away from the church in a heartbeat." But whether we're talking about his audience in voice (non-Christians) or his audience in hope (Christians who won't read it), I still don't think the book is addressed to me.

Doesn't that statement contradict itself? The book is either addressed to non-Christians or Christians. You have to be one of those, right? Those two groups are both mutually exclusive (can't belong to both) and population encompassing (everyone falls into one of those categories). But the 'brand' of Christianity that Dawkins is addressing is not my own. Sure, there are some things that apply to me: miracles, virgin birth, the effectiveness of prayer, morality, etc. But these interactions are more of the 'bump into' sort rather than the 'rush headlong at full speed' type. Overall, the details of Christianity that Dawkins deals with are not characteristic of what I believe.

Dawkins has mainstream Christianity in his sights: bumper stickers and Pat Robertson, Christian legislation groups and elementary school t-shirts, Joel Osteenian Christianity (pray for a parking space pg. 84) and Watchtower Publications. These are the sources Dawkins draws upon for the Christian viewpoints that he is addressing (I say this rather than arguing or debating because this brand of Christianity is frustratingly resistant to conversation and discussion). Nowhere in the 250 pages that I've read so far does he deal with the kind of Christianity that I support and embrace. John Calvin, John Stott, John Piper, J. I. Packer, Tim Keller, Jerry Bridges, and so many more of my favorite authors and theologians are never even mentioned. And believe me, it's not for lack of material from these writers. John Calvin's Institutes of the Christian Religion is enormous, not to mention the many commentaries that Stott has published, the books that the rest of them write, or the sermons they preach.

What is the difference? If he's attacking Christianity, aren't I included in that even if I don't necessarily agree with everything that others preach? I would suggest that there is a fundamental difference between Reformed Christianity (what I embrace) and the mainstream Christianity that is the source of so much antagonism (purposefully ambiguous: they both give and receive plenty). If that difference were something like the nature of communion or the practice of speaking in tongues, that would not merit the gap I see between the two. But, as I am convinced, the rift starts at square one, and thus, when you get to details of belief and practice, the rift has grown wider than the Grand Canyon.

The difference I see is this: Reformed Christianity (and this is not to say that all who call themselves reformed do this, or that none who don't see themselves as reformed don't) starts with God's glory. Soli deo gloria. God is seen as glorious, holy, righteous, just, merciful, loving, good, and so much more (see J. I. Packer's wonderful book, Knowing God). Our life, our culture, our relationships, everything, are therefore to be interpreted in light of the fact that God is (YHWH) and that we are made in His image. It comes with the conviction that He is at work on behalf of His people, the true children of Abraham (those who are children of faith). That God is faithful to His Word and His covenant promises.

I'm not trying to say that other kinds of Christianity aren't concerned with God's glory, just that they don't start there. Social justice, evangelism, marriage counseling, etc, are all good and worthy pursuits, but if they don't stem from an appreciation of God, they are headed in the wrong direction. Moreover, we tend to misconstrue the gospel if we start with ourselves. Works as an overflowing of gratitude will lead to legalism, grace will lead to indulgence. But when our sights are set on God, our deviations from our course are easily corrected.

Once again, I haven't really talked about The God Delusion (if you really wanna know what's in it, read it for yourself). And honestly, I don't feel like I explained myself real well here. I feel like I was elitist and snobbish. I fear that someone will read it and think that, because they aren't 'reformed', I think they aren't really a Christian. That's not at all the case. But, this is my explanation of the discrepancy I see between Dawkins's targeted Christianity and mine, and I think that it holds real weight. If God is all that He claims to be, where else can we start?

God Delusion, Part 2: Hot Potato

I'm not really sure how to do this. I have a lot to say about Dawkins's book, but there isn't any easy was to organize everything I have to say, at least in my mind. The chapters are too long to be addressed in a single post, and the subsections are too short and too numerous to merit a post each. I'm going to have to do some trimming. With that, and if you are reading the book, understand that just because something doesn't show up here, that doesn't mean I agree with it or have nothing to say about it. I just think that some things are more important to address than others. Here goes.

Chapter One is called 'A Deeply Religious Non-Believer.' It's basically the introduction for the book. Dawkins describes his own view point and addresses how he is going to treat and address religion. "I shall not go out of my way to offend, but nor shall I don kid gloves to handle religion any more gently than I would handle anything else" is his concluding statement. His observation is that religious sentiments, unlike political leanings or musical preference, aren't touched by anything short of a '39 1/2 foot pole.' And he's right: unless we're talking about Christianity, religious commentary and criticism is a thing unheard of and frowned upon.

One of my problems with Dawkins, not just in this chapter but in the rest of the book (as far as I've read), is that he will often make some social observation but spend no time or ink trying to figure out why it is true. Example: avoidance of religion. Let me offer my own solution to this observation. Religion deals with the infinite and the sublime. The afterlife, true reality, the nature of our soul, redemption, and eternity are all at stake when we discuss religion. But with politics? Of what import is the running of a country in comparison to 'forever and ever?' Music and arts? What does it matter which music you like best in comparison with the claim that God has made it possible for us to worship Him forever? Religion is avoided because eternity is at stake, not because of some unexplainable sense of respect for the worldviews of others.

Why, then, has it become socially acceptable to poke fun at and ridicule Christians? I would argue that, as a whole, the American Church has lost the focus of the Gospel. Christianity, for many, means 'Your Best Life Now' or simply what you do on Sunday mornings. The Gospel is interpreted in light of our lives, not the other way around. Because the message of the Gospel has been diluted to human terms rather than marveled at because of it's divine nature, there is less at stake. Eternity is no longer the focus: retirement is. Furthermore, we flaunt our religiosity without any thought to whether or not that expression is morally right or beneficial. Dawkins provides an example of this, but it's given in light of the relationship of church and state, freedom of religion, not in the context of Christians being Bible-thumpers or intolerant social critics (just in case someone accuses me of taking his example out of context).

"... In 2004 James Nixon, a twelve-year-old boy in Ohio, won the right in court to wear a T-shirt to school bearing the words 'Homosexuality is a sin, Islam is a lie, abortion is murder. Some issues are just black and white!' The school told him not to wear the T-shirt - and the boy's parents sued the school. (45, Mariner Books edition, 2008)" Putting aside the claims made by the shirt, what is the attitude of the shirt itself? Love doesn't even come close, even though Christ's second commandment is to love your neighbor as yourself. In this world of gated communities and country clubs, it's understandable that neighbor has taken on a meaning more like 'someone living near you, who just so happens to look like you talk like you and think like you.' But what does Christ mean by neighbor? Well, he illustrates by a story. The parable of the Good Samaritan is what follows (Luke 11:25-37). The injured man (probably understood to be Jewish by those listening) isn't helped by his brothers, but by a foreigner: a half-breed (that's what the Samaritans were: half-Jews). It is clear that this 'half-breed' is the man's neighbor. What does that mean for us? Our neighbors are who ever we come into contact with.

Next, I want to look at the statement 'Some issues are just black and white.' Again, ignoring the claims of the shirt, what is the attitude? Inviting doesn't even come close. This pushes away anyone with dissenting views by refusing to listen, effectively killing any possibility of relationships with non-believers. And with all due respect to Crusades and altar calls, in my opinion, real conversion and real growth happens through relationships. When others see our love and our good deeds, it should cause them to glorify our Father in heaven (1 Peter 2:12) If we're not even in relationships with non-believers because we give off such an air of arrogance and unflinching dedication to what we believe, how can we hope to obey Christ when he tells us to 'go and make disciples of all the nations? (Matthew 28:19)'

These two issues are related (and more than just by the T-shirt). If we truly love others and desire the best for them, we will, in our relationships with them, act in such a way to point them to Christ. Whether or not they eventually gaze on the face of Christ rests in our Father's hands, but the call to us is to at least give them an opportunity to see it. This does not, by any means, suggest that we befriend non-believers in order to save them: there's nothing worse than feeling like a project. But rather, because we live our lives in love and service, others are attracted to the Gospel. God uses the church, collectively and individually, as broken and fickle as it is, not only to encourage the community of believers, but to reach out and impact the community that surrounds it.

God Delusion, Part 1: Nominal Christians

I love to read. To those who know me well, this will come as no surprise. I actually have trouble reading just one book at a time. For example, I am currently reading C. S. Lewis's Perelandra, Sinclair Ferguson's Heart For God, and Richard Dawkins's The God Delusion. It's this last book that this post (and probably more than just a few to follow) is about.

Quick summary: it's pretty much the Atheist Manifesto of this decade (published 2006). It's been wildly popular, especially with college-age religious studies majors and anti-right wing (as opposed to just left-wing) journalists, lobbyists, and more. Dawkins first gives his own view of religion and where he stands, then explains the God Hypothesis, focusing on the theistic view, then he gives some arguments for the existence of God, and from what it looks like, the rest of the book is about why those arguments are wrong.

Obviously I'm not reading this book because I like having my particular viewpoints reinforced. There are reasons, though. First and foremost, I think that our beliefs and convictions are better described as leanings and tendencies until they are strengthened by opposition. When we have to defend our views against someone who disagrees with them, we are forced to truly think about and critique what we claim to believe. Does it make sense? Are our beliefs reasonable, or are we buying into what our itching ears love to hear? By looking at this educated, well written attack on religion (which he usually identifies as Christianity), I am forced to articulate, in my head and the margins if nothing else, my own educated, reasoned defense.

A secondary reason that I'm reading this book is that so many people I know are reading it, mostly non-Christians. I want to be able to have an informed discussion with people about the book and its claims on God, Jesus, the Bible, Islam, Christianity, Judaism, Atheism, Darwin, Creationism, Einstein, and everything else that he talks about. In a similar vein, there are plenty of nominal Christians out there who read a reasoned attack such as The God Delusion, and because it sounds good to them (it is a well-written book) and because they aren't practiced at reading critically and identifying some of the faulty, unmentioned, underlying assumptions that his arguments are based on, they try and fit the book into their worldview.

Obviously, this jump from Christianity to Atheism (two wildly incompatible worldviews) seems extreme. But, you'll notice, I used the qualifier of "nominal." By that I mean a person who calls themselves a Christian, but lacks firm belief in the basic tenets of Christianity. This begins, in my opinion, with an underlying assumption that the goal of Christianity is to make us into nice, unoffensive people who never cause arguments or ruffle other's feathers. Because of this spreading mentality, more and more people are willing to accept small compromises in the ethos of Christianity in order to avoid a dispute. These Christians lack the courage to say or believe something that culture disagrees with: in short, they think more of the opinions of men than of God. More and more compromises leads to a blend of so many conflicting statements and ideas in a belief structure that it loses any semblance of structure it may have had.

At this point, it is possible to fit anything into a worldview. Thus, Atheism and Christianity become compatible. It sounds like an oxymoron to me, but there are people out there who seriously call themselves Christian Atheists and see nothing wrong with that identification. John Shelby Spong's secular humanism blended with Christian morality (and what I see as Zen Buddhism) combines with Joel Osteen's health and wealth gospel that perverts the promises of scripture and Richard Dawkins's conception of a 'deeply religious non-believer' ("Spiritual, not religious" is an increasingly common self-identification these days) to produce a worldview that sounds great to the non-Christian and retains enough of a Christian terminology and morality (at least in the non-offensive areas) to come off as truly Christian but is completely devoid of the heart of Christianity. Nominal Christians.

I've kinda strayed a little, but that's how these things go. As I read the book I'll post my thoughts and reactions and the rabbit trails that come off of those. If you're up to it, go get the book and read it too. $15 in paperback. Admittedly, it's kind of a selfish request: it's one thing for me to read and wrestle with this stuff on my own, but I covet conversations about this kind of thing. Again, it's only after we've examined, defended, and expressed our beliefs that they truly hold weight for us.

When to Say When

Pleasure is something that our culture is very concerned with. And whether for better or for worse, that concern imposes itself on all of us. The advertising that surrounds us, the materialism that goes unquestioned, and casual way people look at debt all contribute to and derive from our longing for pleasure. Yet, this obsession with and longing for pleasure is... assumed. We feel like we have a right to pleasure, satisfaction, and personal, usually instant, gratification. Like somehow we've earned it.

C. S. Lewis is the one who started me thinking down this track. I just finished the first of his Space Trilogy, Out of the Silent Planet. In it, Ransom (the protagonist, and a human) is taken against his will to another planet. There, after escaping his captors, he meets a new species of intelligent life. As he learns their language, he begins to investigate the philosophy of this new race. Speaking with Hyoi (the alien friend he first meets), Ransom finds an unusual, and in my opinion, refreshing, view of pleasure. The conversation goes like this:

"But why? Would he want his dinner all day or want to sleep after he had slept? I do not understand." (Hyoi)
"But a dinner comes every day. This love, you say, comes only once while the hross (the alien race) lives?"
"But it takes his whole life. When he is young, he has to look for his mate; and then he has to court her; then he begets young; then he rears them; then he remembers all this, and boils it inside him and makes it into poems and wisdom."
"But the pleasure he must be content only to remember?"
"This is like saying 'My food I must be content to eat.' "
"I do not understand."
"A pleasure is full grown only when it is remembered. You are speaking as if the pleasure were one thing and the memory another. It is all one thing."

I can think of no better example of this than the joy that, as Christians, we are to find in our salvation. It happens at one instant in life, and in that instant, when a soul recognizes the corruption within the flesh, joy at our justification before God in spite of our sin should drive the new Christian to tears of joy. (Side note: It is amazing to me that there are those out there who deny that we live in a fallen world and that we are a species in need of a savior. I can understand that people see and seek salvation in different things, but in a world
where evil is a reality, where murder, rape, abuse, and more are so prevalent that we are seldom moved by report of them, and where death reigns, it is foolishness and a senseless denial of the reality of our condition to suggest that our highest calling is to be nice to people.) This salvation happens once. Christ's work is enough to make us right before God. But our joy in this salvation is made complete as we are sanctified. As we look back and see how we have grown in character, love for Christ, and love for others, we are to be thankful for the work of Christ in our lives and, as in that moment of conversion, overwhelmed with joy. The moment of pleasure ends, and the enjoyment of it continues forever.

This is also illustrated in the second book of the series (I started it this morning), Perelandra. Ransom arrives on a different planet, and within he first few hours, is faced with the challenge of finding food. He finds what a 'gourd' and drinks from it: the pleasure can only be described as other-worldly. Here is Lewis' narrative of what happens after Ransom finishes the first gourd:

"As he let the empty gourd fall from his hand and was about to pluck a second one, it came into his head that he was now neither hungry nor thirsty. And yet to repeat a pleasure so intense and almost so spiritual seemed an obvious thing to do. His reason, or what we commonly take to be reason in our own world, was all in favor of tasting this miracle again; the childlike innocence of fruit, the labours he had undergone, the uncertainty of the future, all seemed to commend the action. Yet something seemed to oppose this 'reason.' It is difficult to suppose that this opposition came from desire, for what desire would turn from so much deliciousness? But for whatever cause, it appeared to him better not to taste it again. Perhaps the experience had been so complete that repetition would be a vulgarity - like asking to hear the same symphony twice in a day."

I don't think that Lewis is saying pleasure is bad. The Father sends the Son to earth because it was His joy to save us. The problem comes when pleasure becomes our god. When our trust in God's provision over our lives becomes so weak that we obsess to the point of distracting anxiety, there is a problem. When, as a car commercial suggests, we have trouble settling for anything less than the 'best', there is a problem. When meditation on the work of the Son and the gift of the Spirit and the plan of the Father does not move us to overwhelming joy, even laughter, it should be a hint to us that we are seeking our joy in something other than the face of the Father. We need to learn to be content in the blessings God has given us, finding joy in the Giver and not the gifts.