The Invasion of Wild Boar: 500 Years Later

The Invasion of Wild Boar: 500 Years Later

Tuesday, October 31, marks the 500th anniversary of the day on which an Augustinian monk named Martin Luther nailed a list of 95 theses to the door of the Castle Church in Wittenberg, Germany. Nailing his provocative theses to the door was not meant to be an act of rebellion, but an invitation to academic debate. The Wittenberg door was a little like a Facebook page: it was a public place that invited comment and critique.

The principal subject of the theses was the issuance of papal pardons. Luther did not deny the pope’s right to issue pardons, but he argued that the pope’s authority to pardon and remit penalties was limited to sins committed against the pope and penalties pronounced by the pope, and did not extend to sins committed against God and penalties pronounced by God.

The primary motivation behind Luther’s theses – the irritation that provoked him to act – was the Church’s practice of selling indulgences to fund, at least as Luther understood it, the building of the new St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, under Pope Julian II. These indulgences were promises of the remittance of the temporal punishment, in Purgatory, for sins.

Luther was disgusted by the way some priests were “hawking” indulgences, preying upon simple believers who had hardly enough money to feed and clothe their families. He considered it an affront not only to the poor, but to the pope, and submitted that the pope would choose rather to see St. Peter’s “go to ashes” than “be built up with the skin, flesh and bones of his sheep.”

The 95 theses did not come out of the blue, nor was Luther the first person to recognize corruption within the church. There had been reformers prior to Luther, like Wycliffe and Hus, and reformers who followed Luther, like Philip Melanchthon, John Calvin and John Knox. But Luther’s 95 theses set in motion a transformation of European and western society.

But the theses were not Luther’s most radical act, nor the one with the greatest impact. He went on to translate the New Testament into German, making it possible for common people to read the Scriptures. According to the renowned church historian Philip Schaff, Luther “made the Bible the people’s book in church, school, and house.” This may have done more to animate the Protestant movement than anything else.

The Church of Rome responded to the theses and to their author in a variety of ways. Luther was given the chance to recant his views, which he steadfastly refused to do. Instead of recanting, he buttressed his views with theological supports, claiming the pope and the Church were amenable to the Scriptures, advocating the priesthood of all believers, and challenging various Church doctrines.

The Pope responded by calling Luther a “wild boar that had invaded the Lord’s vineyard,” declared many of his theses heretical, and excommunicated him. But there was no stopping the movement Luther had begun. As the Reformation spread across Europe, the Council of Trent was convoked to condemn the principles promulgated by Luther and his fellow reformers. But the council also acted to halt the abuses and corruption which had rallied the reformers in the first place.

After 500 years, there are still significant doctrinal differences between Catholics and Protestants. The gap between them is arguably wider now than it was on the day the Augustinian monk nailed his theses to the Wittenberg door. Resolution of those differences is unlikely and is not, perhaps, the best place for Catholics and Protestants to spend their time.

Rather than seeking doctrinal resolution, the Church, both Catholic and Protestant, should seek continuing reformation. Her watchword must be, as Karl Barth stated it: “Reformed, and always reforming.” The need for reformation didn’t end in the 16th century.

But reformation must be more than a historical memory; it must be an ongoing lifestyle. Catholics and Protestants alike must confess their sins – not least, those committed against each other – and ask God to search them, restore them and reform them. If they do, they have a chance at something even more important that doctrinal agreement. They have a chance for brotherly love.

First published in The Coldwater Daily Reporter, 10/28/2017

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What Teleportation Teaches Us About Our Entanglement With Christ

When news broke this summer that Chinese scientists had engineered the successful “teleportation” of a photon over a distance greater than 300 miles, Star Trek fans around the globe rejoiced. It was, however, a belated celebration: teleportation has been around as a serious theory for twenty-five years and has been a reality in the lab for twenty.

On the other hand, one might argue the celebration was premature. If one defines teleportation as the transfer of an object from one place to another without crossing intervening space (what Scotty does when Jim Kirk is in trouble), then what the Chinese performed was not teleportation. The object, a photon, was not transferred, but information about the object—its quantum footprint, so to speak—was.

While Star Trek fans might be disappointed, scientists, technology companies and the intelligence community are thrilled. Because “teleportation,” or “telephresis” as some scientists prefer to call it, happens instantaneously and without crossing intervening space, it may have the potential of providing hacker-proof communications security and next-generation cryptography.

This kind of teleportation is possible because of the strange interaction of subatomic particles, which physicists refer to as “entanglement.” According to Randy Isaac, a solid-state physicist and executive director emeritus of the American Scientific Affiliation, a particle can be entangled with another particle in such a way that their quantum properties, such as position, speed and spin, are linked. An action performed on the first particle instantaneously affects its partner particle, regardless of the distance between them in space or, as Einstein taught us to say, spacetime.

Entanglement is weird and, though scientists have come to accept and exploit it, they do not pretend to understand it. Einstein himself refused to believe it, deriding it as “spooky action at a distance,” but it has turned out to be true. There is a connectedness in the universe that defies explanation. A change in a subatomic particle on this side of the galaxy will instantaneously make a difference in an entangled particle on the other side. This is not science fiction. It is science fact.

Subatomic particles are not the only things that are entangled in our universe. So are we. We are entangled with one another and even with creation—something we are only now discovering, but which Paul asserted to be true in Romans 8. God designed humanity this way from the beginning. It is part of what makes us great. We are entangled with people we do not know, from places we have never been, at times we have not existed, in the deep past and in the unknown future.

The entire human race can be conceived as one large, interconnected thing, stretching across space and time. If we could see what God sees when he looks at humanity, we would not only see a hundred billion or so disconnected individuals but a human race that is more like a massive body with a hundred billion parts.

Human entanglement, and the “spooky action at a distance” it makes possible, is responsible both for the damaged state in which humanity now finds itself and the glorious future which awaits it. It made the consequences of the first Adam’s sin impossible for us to avoid, but it also makes the consequences of the second Adam’s obedience possible for us to share.

Theologians are just as hard pressed to explain the mystery of humanity’s entangled relationship with Adam as physicists are to explain quanta’s entangled relationships with each other. While physicists talk about quantum field theory and supersymmetry and employ equations like Schrodinger’s Wave Function, theologians talk about federal headship theory and natural headship theory and employ concepts like covenant and imputation.

In both cases, the theories are useful without being complete. This is one reason an analogy like this—and it is only an analogy, not a source of evidence—is helpful. It reminds us that theories can be useful, even when we know them to be incomplete. The theories help us explore and explain other data both in the physical sciences (like wave/particle duality) and theology (like the necessity of the incarnation).

Because of the God-designed capacity for human entanglement, the choices of two men—the two men, the two Adams—has affected all humanity. The first Adam tripped and we fell. The second Adam died and we live. The first Adam’s trespass brought condemnation. The second Adam’s obedience brought justification.

The chief complaint against theological explanations of entanglement has always been its unfairness: Adam sins, and I’m condemned? He trips, and I fall? How is that fair? Clearly, it is not. Fairness is: “The soul who sins is the one who will die” (Ezekiel 18:4). That is fair but it’s hardly better, since “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). Thankfully, God is more than fair, as the Apostle Paul points out in Romans 5:15: “But the gift is not like the trespass. For if the many died by the trespass of the one man, how much more did God’s grace and the gift that came by the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, overflow to the many!”

This analogy, like all analogies, has its limits. Quantum entanglement is, according to Isaac, fleeting and hard to sustain. In contrast, Adam entanglement is stable and, as we inevitably discover, hard to break. But entanglement with Christ is eternal and provides a stronger bond than the forces of nature can establish.

The capacity for entanglement was not a design flaw, even though it left us tangled up in Adam’s fall. Through it the creator planned to reverse the fall by uniting himself to Adam’s race in the incarnation, and by uniting Adam’s race to himself in what theologians call glorification. Whatever wonders quantum entanglement brings will not compare to the eternal weight of that glory.

First appeared on 10/17/2017 on the Christianity Today website

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What to Do With a Can of Worms

What should you do when you’ve opened a can of worms? The obvious answer is: go fishing. Of course, a can of worms doesn’t guarantee a fish dinner, but it offers possibilities.

What should you do when the can of worms is a biblical one? And certainly, there are some: Jesus, talking about hating father and mother; God, ordering the destruction of the indigenous people of Canaan; or Paul’s order that women be silent in the church are examples. When coming to these “can of worms” passages, one ought to go fishing – try the waters, and see what possibilities the passage offers. Valuable insights often emerge from the most difficult texts.

There are some things to keep in mind when handling one of these difficult and controversial passages. First, stay humble. These kinds of passages are the ones about which people tend to be most dogmatic, but they ought to be the ones about which people are least dogmatic. If you’re going to be unbending, be unbending about the resurrection of Jesus, not about women being silent in the church. The one is abundantly clear; the other is not.

Next, when people take a position contrary to your own, don’t impute an evil motive to them. Give them the benefit of the doubt. Yes, their interpretation may be wrong, but your attitude is certainly wrong, when you impugn their character. God will not judge you for an honest mistake in interpretation; a malicious attitude in a relationship is another matter altogether.

Next, go with your best understanding of the passage. Don’t condemn others over disputed passages, but don’t condemn yourself either by violating your conscience. I had a friend who divorced her repeatedly unfaithful husband when her kids were still young. I once told her, based on Matthew 5 and 19 and Mark 10, that I believed she was eligible to remarry. She disagreed. I still think I was right, but had I talked her into violating her conscience by remarrying, she, her kids, and her husband would have all paid the price.

Coming to your best understanding of a passage requires demanding work and careful thought. For example, the passage where the Apostle Paul tells women to be silent in the church follows a passage where he argues that women should cover their heads when praying or prophesying. So how can a woman pray and prophesy if she is remaining silent in the church?

Untangling a knotty issue like this is no small matter. It takes hard work to come to one’s best understanding of such passages. This work includes examining the passage in its biblical and historical context and comparing it to other passages that deal with the same subject. In this particular example, the apostle clearly knew women were speaking in church, praying and prophesying, and gave them directions for doing so. It therefore seems to me highly unlikely that he intended the prohibition he gave three chapters later to be absolute. And if the prohibition is not absolute, it must pertain to a particular issue or set of circumstances.

The scholar Ken Bailey suggested that set of circumstances might have to do with the fact that the early Christian’s meetings were segregated. Women sat in one area, men in another. In ancient cultures, as in multi-lingual Third World countries today, men were more likely to understand the trade language than were women. Some of the women spoke only the indigenous language or a kind of patois. Because they could not understand much of what was being said, they understandably lost interest in the meeting and began conversing. When that happened, the leader would ask them to be silent. When, after a while, the same thing happened, the leader would silence them again. Or a wife might call across the room to ask her husbands to explain what was being said, and the leader would interrupt, “Ask him when you get home.”

This brief survey obviously does not untangle the difficult passage on women in the church, but it does illustrate an approach that takes the text seriously, while thinking carefully, listening to others and remaining humble. If the reader does these things, then regardless of the conclusions he or she draws, the difficult text will have already had a positive impact.

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The Ala Carte Menu for Theological Consumption

Dr. Cornelius Plantinga, Jr,. senior research fellow at the Calvin Institute of Christian Worship and president emeritus of Calvin Theological Seminary, once wrote: “As the Father rescues his people from the powers of darkness and resettles them inside the kingdom of his Son, they revel in his grace and sing about it in church. They take satisfaction in believing right doctrine and teach it in seminary. There they plan on going to heaven by and by and talk about it on tv. And, in the process, they experience some high-quality religious feelings.”

Plantinga’s tongue-in-cheek description of the Christian life is devastatingly accurate, at least in the postmodern West. The clash of kingdoms, the fate of worlds, the struggle of good and evil is largely missing from western thought. And on those occasions when the language is employed, it is mistakenly used as political rhetoric rather than viewed as historical reality.

The historic Christian gospel has shrunk from a message of universal relevance to one of individual opinion. This has happened in an atmosphere where faith has been increasingly privatized. The rugged individualism once associated with Protestantism (and now seen in Catholicism), has, as Greg Ogden writes, “torn the heart out of Christian community.” It has also placed the great doctrines of the faith on an ala carte menu for theological consumption.

How did we get here? Wade Clark Roof and William McKinney have written: “Large numbers of well-educated, middle-class youth defected from the churches in the late sixties and early seventies… Some joined new religious movements, others sought personal enlightenment … but most simply “dropped out.”

One consequence of this major social shift was, Professors Roof and McKinney argue, a “tendency toward highly individualized religious psychology … In this climate of expressive individualism, religion tends to become ‘privatized’ and more anchored in personal realms.” As a result, personal fulfillment has largely replaced faithful obedience as the aspiration of millions of religious people. And whatever gets in the way of personal fulfillment – whether biblical ethics regarding sex or biblical doctrines regarding the nature of Christ – is simply jettisoned.

Thus the increasing number of Christians who believe that premarital and extramarital sex are a legitimate expression of love between consenting adults. Thus, also, the ala carte approach to adopting a “credo” – “I’ll take the doctrine of the atonement, but I don’t want the exclusivity of Jesus. I’d love a double helping of grace, but I’ll pass on the doctrine of judgment; it’s a little too sharp for my taste.”

Salvation shrinks in an environment like this. It becomes not merely provincial, but private. As a result, salvation loses the social force it once possessed (“save yourself from this corrupt generation”) and becomes a matter of personal religious feelings and private hope for continued existence after death.

So the great revelation of God and the redemption he accomplished in Christ is placed on the theological dollar menu for consumption by a fast food religious culture. People choose from that menu as if it were an entirely private decision or, as is often said, “a personal matter.” As one might expect, one of the most popular items on the menu remains, as Plantinga deadpans, “some high-quality religious feelings,” and everyone’s favorite dessert is still life after death. Of course, in this case, no one wants their dessert first.

Interestingly, Jesus never offered “high-quality religious feelings,” nor did he urge people to pursue personal fulfillment or purchase a pass to life after death. Rather, he invited people to enter the kingdom of God, to deny themselves and follow him. He called people to a transforming faith in God that would fill them with a life so dynamic that mere physical death could never quench it.

This is what one nineteenth century writer called the “larger Christian life.” It is a life to which the twenty-first century desperately needs to be reintroduced.

First published in The Coldwater Daily Reporter, 10/8/2017

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Lost and Found: The Joy of Losing Oneself

It was an iconic moment in sports history or, rather, an iconic eighteen seconds. It was the first round of the 1995 NBA Eastern Conference semifinals. The Indiana Pacers were playing the New York Knicks at Madison Square Garden. With eighteen seconds left, the Pacers were down by six, and even their own coach assumed the game was over.

And then there was Reggie. Reggie Miller. He took an inbounds pass just inside the arc, stepped back and lofted a three-pointer – nothing but net. Reggie then stole the Knicks inbound pass, ran outside the arc and lofted a turn-around jumper – and suddenly the score was tied.

The Pacers fouled John Starks on the inbound pass. Starks, a great clutch player, missed both his free-throws. Patrick Ewing got the offensive board for the Knicks, but missed an eight-footer and – who else – Reggie Miller cleared the rebound and was fouled. He sank both free throws and won the game for the Pacers. He scored six points in less than six seconds, and eight points in less than nine seconds.

What was Reggie thinking about during those nine seconds? Was he worried? Was he feeling confident? Or was he planning his attack on his opponent like a chess master? He was almost certainly doing none of these things. He was scoring points, not thinking about scoring points. He was, as athletes put it, in the zone.

A person in the zone, whether a sports star, musician, soldier or teacher, is not thinking about what to do next. He or she is just doing it. In the zone, there is room to do incredible things, but there is no room to think about oneself. The self disappears for the duration of the time a person is in the zone – usually only for a matter of seconds, rarely for a couple of minutes. People lose themselves in the zone.

Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi gave the reason for this disappearing person act in a TED talk he gave on being in the zone, or “flow,” as he calls it. He explained that our nervous system is incapable of processing more than 110 bits of information per second. It takes about 60 bits per second just to hear and process what another person is saying – which is why we can’t really listen to two people talking at once. When a person is using all 110 bits in concentrated form, he or she temporarily disappears.

While Reggie Miller was nailing threes and stealing passes and sinking free throws, he was using all the bits of information he was capable of processing. There was none left over to think about himself or tomorrow night’s game or next week’s cover of Sports Illustrated. For a few seconds, Reggie ceased to play basketball; he became basketball. He became one with the game.

It is in those moments, according to Csikszentmihalyi, that humans experience the greatest fulfillment. Isn’t it ironic? People are most fulfilled when they think least about themselves. This explains why using the 110 bits of information to secure oneself or one’s image is, even when successful, always so unsatisfying.

Entering the zone or flow is often associated with eastern religious practices. But Jesus understood human psychology and knew how best to find fulfillment. He told his students, “If you cling to your life, you will lose it, and if you let your life go, you will save it.”

As always with Jesus, this is more than mere word play. It is not a religious platitude masquerading as wisdom. This is how life really works. Jesus understood it because he lived it. Living for oneself is a dead end. Selfishness is a bust. Only by losing oneself – the clamoring, insecure, grasping false self – can one ever hope to find the true self God has in mind.

Jesus invited people to lose themselves for him and his cause. That probably didn’t sound any more appealing then than it does now, and only a few people took him up on it. But those who did changed the world. They talked about experiencing oneness with Jesus and extolled it in terms of glory and joy. They lost themselves but found, as Jesus had promised, a life that exceeded anything they had ever known.

First published in The Coldwater Daily Reporter, 9/30/2017

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A Simply Divine Game of Hide and Seek

If God exists, why has no one ever proved it to the satisfaction of all? Of course, most people have not needed proof – the vast majority have always believed in a God or gods. But if God really exists, shouldn’t it be possible to prove it to people who do require proof, to agnostics and atheists? Other disputed facts – that the earth is round, for example, or that germs cause disease – have been proved and the naysayers have been silenced. Why is that so difficult to do when it comes to God?

It is important for believers to acknowledge the reality of the difficulty, rather than just shout out proofs with ever-increasing volume. It is also important for atheists to admit that their arguments have failed to carry the day, and fall short of anything like conclusive proof.

One of the reasons irrefutable proof of God’s existence (or non-existence) is elusive is that God belongs to a different class of being than those with which we are familiar. Proving God’s existence is a different thing than proving the earth is round or germs communicate disease. He is not contained in our cosmos the way earths and germs are. Asking for proof of God’s existence is like asking a character in a novel to prove the existence of the novelist. She can look and look without finding any, unaware that she herself is the proof.

There is another reason why irrefutable proof is difficult: proving to his creatures that he exists is not one of God’s priorities. Proving that he exists does not bring God closer to realizing his purpose in creation, and could even frustrate it. Would God be satisfied because a person, perhaps grudgingly, admits his existence? No, not any more than a dad would be satisfied because his philosopher-student son said, “Old man, after long study I have been forced to conclude the reality of your existence!”

Nietzsche complained that an all-knowing and all-powerful god who did not make his creatures understand, but left them to linger in doubt, could not be a good God. But Nietzsche set the stage and arranged the props to serve his own storyline. Contrary to Nietzsche, there are legitimate reasons why a good God would not force his creatures out of their doubts against their will; when doing so would harm them and undermine the good plans God has for them.

If this is true, a God who hid himself might be both good and wise, which is precisely how St. Paul thought of God’s decision to remain hidden. He wrote, “In God’s wisdom, he determined that the world wouldn’t come to know him through its wisdom.”

A serious study of Scripture will lead to the conclusion that God values human freedom and stubbornly resists the violation of people’s free will. In practice, this must be a remarkably complicated procedure because God – for lack of a better way of putting it – is so big and humans are so small, there is a constant danger he will overwhelm them. Preserving human self-determination in the presence of God is like preserving a butterfly’s flight in a hurricane. Yet God has designed the world of matter and energy so ingeniously that he is able to do it.

To maintain human free will, God makes himself avoidable. He either hides us, as he did with Moses in the cleft of the rock, or he hides himself. When God comes to humanity, it is in a modest and remarkably resistible fashion: through a still, small voice; in the form of a baby; and, when that baby grows up, through parables people can receive or ignore, as they so choose.

God does this because free will is more than an arbitrary prerequisite to human fulfillment; it is integral to the entire process, from beginning to end. Nietzsche seemed to think a good God would, in humanity’s best interests, suspend human freewill. What he didn’t realize is that, were God to do so, humans would no longer be human. Were God to make himself unavoidable, as Scripture promises he will do someday, the process of human development would end immediately.

First published in The Coldwater Daily Reporter, 9/23/2017

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A Little Exercise in Talking to Oneself

Please share in the comment section what advise you would give to your younger self – we’d appreciate hearing it.

In his 1972 short story, The Other, Jorge Luis Borges pictures himself in Cambridge, MA, sitting on a bench overlooking the Charles River. Someone sits on the other end of the bench whom be recognizes as his younger self. They strike up a conversation in which the older Borges reveals his identity, but the younger Borges insists they are in Geneva, overlooking the Rhone. They argue about whose experience is real: has the older Borges traveled through time or is the younger Borges simply dreaming?

It is classic Borges storytelling, including the writer’s own self-effacement and his adulation of the great writers and poets who influenced him. I have not read the story in years, but when I remembered it the other day it set me thinking: if I were sent back in time and met my younger self, what would I want him to know?

I wasn’t thinking of advice like, “Buy stock in Apple,” or “Trade in the Ford Taurus now; it’s going to blow a head gasket in six months.” I was thinking more about the life principles I wish I’d known then. Here are some of the things I might tell my younger self.

“Don’t make it your business to fix people’s problems.” As a pastor, I often made other people’s problems my own. I couldn’t be happy when someone in my congregation was miserable. But some people refused to make the changes that could free them from their misery. They imprisoned themselves in a cell of their own making, for which they had a key they would not use – and trapped me inside with them.

I would also tell my younger self: “What you become is far more important than what you accomplish.” People talk about resting on one’s laurels, but no one really does that; they rest on themselves – the self they have become. This explains why some people who have accomplished impressive feats, set sports records, or made billions, are so restless. They’ve done much but have become little. The most important thing you can give anyone – including God and yourself – is the person you become.

Next, I think I would tell my younger self, “What you love will have more impact on who you become than what you know.” People like to say that knowledge is power, and of course they are right. As such, knowledge is like the engines on a plane. It’s impossible to get off the ground without it. But love is like the pilot of the plane: it determines where all that power will take us – to the place of our dreams or into the side of a mountain.

Without knowledge, we won’t make good decisions, but without love we won’t know what decisions need to be made. This explains why St. Paul prayed for his friends: “…that your love might abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best…” We always know best what we love most. This includes God.

I would also tell my younger self, “Don’t worry so much about what people think of you. The fact is, they’re probably not thinking of you, but even if they are, their opinion of you is not what matters most.” I should have known this already. I once sat at a round table in one of those horrible, touchy-feely English classes that were so common in the seventies. Each of us had to say what we thought about the person sitting to our right, and I sat to the right of the girl who was voted “Best Legs” in our school. When her turn came, “Best Legs” answered simply: “I don’t think about him.”

What I didn’t know then is that worrying about what other people think can hinder one’s ability to trust God. Jesus asked people who lived for their reputations, “How can you believe if you accept praise from one another, yet make no effort to obtain the praise that comes from the only God?”

I’ll probably never meet myself sitting on a park bench in Cambridge or Geneva, but I now have an idea about what to say – just in case.

First published in The Coldwater Daily Reporter, 9/16/2017

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It’s Not the Way It’s Supposed to Be

Orthodox Christianity has, at least from the time of Augustine, upheld the doctrine of original sin. According to the church, the first man’s rebellion against his creator left all humanity guilty before God and damaged in their nature. When Adam trespassed and fell, humanity fell with him.

  1. K. Chesterton claimed the doctrine of original sin is “the only part of Christian theology which can really be proved.” And it does not take a long string of philosophical arguments to prove it, since anyone “can see it in the street” (or, for that matter, in politics, corporations, media, factories, schools, homes – pretty much wherever one might choose to look).

The theologian Cornelius Plantinga looked in the street (and in politics, corporations, schools and homes) and remarked it’s “Not the Way It’s Supposed to Be” (the title of his 2003 Christianity Today “Book of the Year”). The doctrine of original sin explains the dilemma of contemporary life.

The shame of past wars, the bloodshed of current wars and the threat of future wars – not the way it’s supposed to be. The arrogance of rulers, the corruption of national leaders, the danger of nuclear annihilation – not the way it is supposed to be. Corporate greed, price gouging, the disdain of the rich for the poor – not the way it is supposed to be.

In our own country, racial prejudice and class hatred is not the way it is supposed to be. The termination by abortion of nearly one out five pregnancies is not the way it’s supposed to be. Scammers using catastrophes like Hurricanes Harvey and Irma to rob both donors and victims of crucial funds – it’s not the way it’s supposed to be.

But we don’t have to look at international politics or national controversies to see things aren’t the way they’re supposed to be. We can see it in our own homes and churches. Recent findings suggest that 30 million Americans binge drink regularly. Families are being torn apart by alcohol, opioids, pornography addictions, and compulsive overspending. Divorce tears up almost one in every two American families. People are discontented with their spouses, their kids, their parents and themselves. Mental illness affects one out of four Americans, a rate far surpassing that of other nations. This is not the way it’s supposed to be.

But why? Why is it “not the way it’s supposed to be”? The church’s answer is: because of sin. According to the Bible, sin is an active force, which “seizes opportunities,” “rules,” “deceives,” and “kills.”

But sin is not a person, so how can it “do” things? Think of it this way: a computer program is not a person (though it was devised by a person), yet it can do things: it can change traffic lights from red to green, guide a precision surgical device, or launch a nuclear warhead. Likewise, sin is not a person, but it can do things – bad things.

Contemporary computing provides an analogy. In computer parlance, a “trojan horse” is a program that misrepresents itself to trick a user (victim) into installing it, since the program can’t install itself. So, programmers make the trojan horse to look good (useful, profitable, or enjoyable) to deceive the user. The hoodwinked user installs it, but it is the programmer who benefits.

This is very much like what happened in the Genesis story of humanity’s fall. Sin was misrepresented as useful, profitable, and enjoyable (the words in Genesis are “good,” “pleasing” and “desirable”) and, though Adam had been warned, he clicked the download button. Since that moment, nothing has been the way it’s supposed to be.

Humanity, which is not just individuals scattered through time and space, but one enormous, interconnected thing, stretching across space-time – a massive body with a hundred billion entangled parts – was infected. When Adam hit the download button, he didn’t merely install sin in himself but in all humanity, and sin spread through the entire network.

Because of his decision, sin is not just out there in the world but in here, in you and me. It is part of our programming, and the reason things (and people) are not the way they’re supposed to be.

First published in The Coldwater Daily Reporter, 9/9/2017

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Avoid a Bandwagon Brand of Politics

I was recently asked, point-blank, if I was a liberal or a conservative. No one has ever asked me that question before – at least not directly. There have been times, however, when people have told me what I am: “Well, of course, you’d take that view! You’re a conservative.”

The funny thing is, I’ve heard the opposite as well: “I’m surprised to hear you say that, with your liberal views on immigration.” The same kind of thing has happened regarding my (or our church’s) theological position. Folks in mainline churches have warned people about our “fundamentalist ideology,” while real fundamentalists have suspected us of secretly harboring liberal views. What are you going to do?

When asked whether I was a political liberal or a political conservative, I found it hard to give a plain answer. It’s not that I wanted to equivocate: I know where I stand on many of the issues of the day, and I’m not at all afraid to talk about it. The difficulty was with the categories from which to choose.

On some issues, I would probably be grouped with political liberals. Immigration is one that comes to mind. I think our trifling response to the Syrian refugee crisis disgraceful. And though I believe we must secure our borders (I have no objection to the construction of a wall), I favor a liberal immigration policy. Further, even though I believe illegal aliens who are caught engaging in socially destructive and/or criminal behaviors should be promptly deported, I also favor a Reagan-style amnesty and path to citizenship for others.

On other issues – the size and role of government, for instance, abortion, gay marriage, constitutional law, and many more – I would probably be classified as a conservative. But the real problem I had in answering my friend’s straightforward question is that I don’t identify with either conservatives or liberals.

Asking me whether I am a conservative or a liberal is like asking a basketball player whether he plays offense or defense. Yes, I know there is a game called football in which almost all the players are on one side of the line or the other, offense of defense, but not both. I’m even interested in football. I have opinions about which teams are best. But I play basketball, not football, so the question of whether I’m on offense or defense can only be answered, “Yes.”

So with politics. I have opinions, and I am not ambivalent about them. I sometimes write my congressman and my state legislators to express them, or send a letter to the editor. But politics (at least in the modern sense of the word) is not my game. I have another, older and more fundamental commitment: an allegiance to the kingdom of God.

My political “hermeneutic” – the key by which I interpret current events and form opinions about the best actions to take – has nothing to do with what is liberal or what is conservative. Indeed, I consider such a hermeneutic to be dangerously misleading for a Christian. Nor does budget, race or gender serve as my political hermeneutic, as they often do for people these days. I take the positions I do because, to my mind, they most adequately represent God’s values and serve his purpose for the world.

I wrote, “to my mind,” just now because I realize that other people who operate from the same hermeneutic may come to different conclusions. Rather than condemning those conclusions out of hand as too liberal or too conservative, I want to examine them in the light of my biblical worldview. Perhaps they will challenge my conclusions (or, as is more likely, my assumptions) in ways that will hone and refine my commitment to God’s kingdom.

Should Christians renounce political involvement because neither party adequately represents them? Certainly not. Would that both parties were filled with Christians! The more of us involved in local and national politics the better, with this one caveat: our political involvement must not compete with our kingdom of God commitment, but grow out of it. A thoughtless, bandwagon brand of politics will neither help the nation nor serve God’s kingdom.

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Our Church Is Better Than Your Church

I’ve been surprised by people who, in conversation with me, refer to the church I pastor as “your church.” I’m surprised because they’ve been attending for years. Why are they still saying “you” instead of “we” and “your church” instead of “our church”? It’s not as if they are upset about something. They usually say it favorably and in the context of a complement:

“Your church does such a great job with funerals!”

“Your church is so caring toward people in need.”

“Your church is really friendly and accepting.”

All the while, I’m thinking: “What do you mean – it’s your church too, isn’t it?”

That got me wondering: what components (attitudes, behaviors, relationships, etc.) characterize people who think of the church they attend as “our church” and differentiate them from people who attend the same church but think of it as “your church”?

This is a critical issue from a pastoral perspective, because a healthy spirituality will always include an “our church” mentality. More than that, from a theological perspective, the church does not simply belong to a person; the person belongs to the church. It is with this understanding that St. Paul writes, “…so in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others.” (How contrary to the American individualist mindset!)

So, what traits distinguish people who say, “Our church,” from those who say, “Your church”? A number of characteristics come to mind and, while these are based on soft data (conversations, observations, and pastoral experience) rather than hard data (surveys, giving receipts, and attendance figures), I strongly suspect the hard data would support these conclusions.

First, “our church” people have established meaningful relationships within the church. They have a circle. They see each other outside of church and talk on other days than Sundays. “Your church” people, on the other hand, are often either alone or are part of a closed circuit – a family or an exclusive friendship.

“Our church” people consider the church to be very important. They don’t need to think about where they’ll be when the church gathers—they’ll be right there with them. For them, the Christian life is unthinkable without the church. They may or may not be able to articulate a biblical or theological understanding of the church, but they know it is not optional.

“Your church” people, on the other hand, believe that Christianity is a “God and me” thing. It’s good to “go to church,” if you have the time and if you like the people, but of course it is not necessary. “Your church” people tend to speak deprecatingly of “organized religion” and see life after death as the primary (and perhaps even the only) reason for faith.

This leads into the next characteristic that distinguishes “our church” people from “your church” people: “Our church” people think of their Christian faith as a way of life while “you church” people think of it as a religion. “Our church” people are serious about the implications their faith commitment has for their home life and work life, their relationships and their leisure. “Your church” people tend to think about church the way some people with coronary artery disease think about their cholesterol-lowering medication: take it and forget about it, and then you can do whatever you want.

I have also noticed that “our church” people tend to think differently than “your church” people about needs. The “our church” people feel a responsibility to meet the church’s needs. “Your church” people believe the church is responsible to meet their needs. This means that “our church” people are invested in the church, in time, thought, and money and, as Jesus taught us, “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” “Your church” people are much less likely to give time or money, or especially thought to the church. They don’t treasure it.

“Your church” folks never derive the kind of benefit their “our church” counterparts receive, and they don’t even know it. They may even think they need to go to another church when really, they only need to make the church they attend their own.

I’d love to hear from you. Can you think of any additional characteristics that might distinguish “Our Church” people from their “Your Church” counterparts!

First published in The Coldwater Daily Reporter, 8/26/2017

Posted in Christianity, Church, Spiritual life | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments