Scribbling Theology:

Christian Spirituality & Thought
  • About
  • Scribbling Thoughts
  • Scribbling Scripture
  • Scribbling Poetry
  • Book Reviews
  • Category: Scribbles

    • Friendship

      Posted at 11:00 am by scribblingtheology, on June 11, 2020

      Friendship is hard. Really hard. I’m talking about real friendship, not the kind where you float into a room laugh, smile, shake hands, talk about movies and books, and then leave. That’s just social convention. That’s being friendly. Friendship is something, I think, a lot of us don’t really have. Real friendship, at least the kind I believe we all long for, the kind God wants us to have is exhausting, challenging, and painful. Yet, it’s addicting, beautiful, fun, and sanctifying. True friendship requires a lot of sacrifices. It requires a sacrifice of the ego, of your own desires. Humility is essential to intimacy. Why?

      Throughout the 29 years of my life on this earth, I can only count three, maybe four real friendships that I’ve ever had. Two I see every week, one lives half a world away, and the other had fallen apart long before I even realised there was anything wrong. There is a fifth. Each of these relationships has been really different, complex, fun, and exhausting in different ways. The two I see every week requires constant engagement, attention, communication, love, service, sacrifice and humility. The problem though is that I suck at all these things. Despite being bullied my whole life, I continuously put one down (under the guise of Aussie humour) to make me feel better about myself. The other (and my best friend) I almost have nothing in common with outside of Jesus. Often when we meet, I have to feign interest in what he likes because I’m afraid that if I don’t listen to him, he won’t listen to my more important stories and mind-blowing (sarcasm) thoughts on theology and the universe. This is the problem with the ego (at least with mine). It sees my friends as a commodity, something to be used to form an identity, to achieve validation and as things to serve me rather than image-bearing people to love and serve. Real intimacy and friendship are scary because if I don’t lay aside my sinful and broken desires for the sake of those around me, I will end up losing the very people that God uses to make me holy in the first place.

      So, there are a few things I need to get my head around and maybe they’ll help you as well.

      1. I’m actually not that smart. My apparently amazing insights into all things spiritual are pretty lame. Even as I write this line, every part of me wants to delete it because I still think I’m pretty wise. I’m not. Stop it.
      2. Despite the prevailing cultural narrative, I’m not special. I’m incredibly average. My blogs aren’t going to change the world. God hasn’t called me to be an Avenger for the Gospel, just to earnestly love my friends and then even my enemies. If I can’t get the former right, what hope do I have for the latter?
      3. My friends are just as broken and messed up as I am, only in different ways. They need love, validation and real friendship as much as I do. They’re broken but still retain something of the image of God. This passage comes to mind when Paul says:

      Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honour. Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality. – Romans 12:9-13

      So here’s my point. Let’s be better friends. See friendships as a God-given gift to heal the broken, to sanctify the sinner and for the flourishing of our souls. Lay aside “self” and honour the image of God that is the human you’re having intimacy with. Let God use them to soften you, to transform you into the likeness of His Son. At the end of the day, just get over yourself and love others as you want to be loved, right?

      Posted in Scribbles | 2 Comments | Tagged Christianity, church, ego, friendship, Jesus
    • Six Months In: The Journey so Far

      Posted at 1:20 am by scribblingtheology, on April 16, 2020

      It’s been six months since my wife and I separated. Six months of battling depression. Six months of battling anxiety. Six months of battling doubts about God. Six months doubting my future and what it has to bring. Six months of some amazing highs. Six months of a lot of struggle and lows. Almost every day it feels like a challenge to get out of bed, shower and even drink coffee (the thing I love more than anything else). Almost every day there’s something new and overwhelming to face and I’m never really sure if I’m able to face it until all of a sudden I realise it’s midnight and I’ve got to do it all over again the next day. I want to cry. I want to run away. I want to scream. I want to punch something. I feel like the Psalmist who says:

      For my soul is full of troubles,
      and my life draws near to Sheol.
      I am counted among those who go down to the pit;
      I am a man who has no strength,
      like one set loose among the dead,
      like the slain that lie in the grave,
      like those whom you remember no more,
      for they are cut off from your hand.

      Psalm 88:3–5

      Many days can only be described biblically as despair, the yoke is heavy, and I feel like I’ve gotten more than I can bear.

      This isn’t a cry for help or attention. This isn’t me putting on a depressing show so I can get a pat on the back or a hug from you. This. Is. Life. I’ve been a Christian for over ten years now I can tell you right now that I’m learning more in this season than I have perhaps in the entire ten years of ever being Christian. Pain, trials, and tribulations refine the Christian and God is teaching me things I’m barely even beginning to grasp.

      There are two types of people in this world. There are those who try to escape the pain and brokenness of life through encouragement, positive thinking and relying on the positive aspects of God’s promises. This is completely understandable. God wants us to believe that He has good things for us and that He wants to give us good gifts. Then there’s those who embrace the trials and pain and see it as a good thing in light of God’s promises to sanctify them and to grow them in wisdom. The former unfortunately seem to overlook the promises and sobering reality of life. Jesus never promised to take us out of this sinful, broken world, only to forgive us and free us from it while still being in it. Jesus never promises to take us away from pain and suffering, rather, He promised to walk with us through it. If anything is true of Christianity, it is this: pain and suffering have now become my friends. They’re a heightened, necessary experience for us in which God uses to transform the Christian into a sage and a saint for the time and place they live in.

      Herein lies the rub. Pain and suffering is, quite literally the crux of the Gospel. I wonder, how many times when the Gospel is presented to someone do we offer suffering as a drawcard for conversion? Imagine “hey man! Give your life to Jesus. You’ll have forgiveness of sin, new life in Jesus… Which will probably suck. You’ll lose friends, family, jobs, money, and maybe your life. Pretty sick huh?” Not very appealing. However, this is exactly what Jesus was getting at when He said to take up your cross to follow me (Matt 16: 24-26), that one must hate all else to follow Him (Luke 14:26). Jesus knew what it would take to be His disciple. It is not easy, and one who has never experienced true suffering will never understand the importance of becoming its friend and letting it move you. Suffering takes the one who befriends it to greater heights and greater wisdom. That saint and sage glorifies his God more than he ever would have otherwise. Therefore, it is imperative to walk the same path as Christ our King. Remember, no servant is greater than their master.

      “Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.”
      ― Kahlil Gibran

      Posted in Scribbles | 2 Comments
    • Why I Think Calvinism is Biblical

      Posted at 11:11 am by scribblingtheology, on April 1, 2020

      The central truth of God’s saving grace is succinctly stated in the assertion, “Salvation is of the Lord.” This strong declaration means that every aspect of man’s salvation is from God and is entirely dependent upon God. The only contribution that we make is the sin that was laid upon Jesus Christ at the cross. The Apostle Paul affirmed this when he wrote, “From Him and through Him and to Him are all things” (Rom. 11:36). This is to say, salvation is God determined, God purchased, God applied, and God secured. From start to finish, salvation is of the Lord alone………

      April Fools 🙂

      Posted in Scribbles | 0 Comments
    • Does God Know You? by Alan P. Stanley

      Posted at 6:10 pm by scribblingtheology, on March 30, 2020

      Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name and in your name drive out demons and in your name perform many miracles?’ Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers! (Matt 7:21–23).

      Matthew 7:21–23 has to be one of the most confronting passages in the Bible. Just listen to the commentators: “These, surely, are in many ways the most solemn and solemnising words ever uttered in this world,” [1] “a passage of heart-piercing application,” [2] “a dreadful warning.” [3] And this from a Christian blog: “This is the saddest and scariest portion of scripture.” [4]

      This passage, on the lips of Jesus, is a warning. Christians on the whole find warning passages confronting, and the reason is that these passages typically warn against the absence of works (e.g., James 2:14–26) and fruit (John 15:1–6), or the presence of disobedience (1 Cor 6:9–10; Eph 5:5) and apostasy—turning away from Jesus (e.g., Heb 6). And because we tend to be our own worst critic, it’s understandable that we might be unsettled by such passages.

      But this passage in Matthew, while a warning, is different. For it is not a warning against the absence of works, but the presence of them; it is not a warning against disobedience if anything it seems to be the opposite: these people did things in Jesus’ name! And it certainly does not address apostasy. So, to put it bluntly, what the heck?

      I want to address one issue, the key to understanding what is going on in this passage, what is the Father’s will? But let’s first deal with a couple of quick issues. First, the destiny of these people? What will it mean to hear, “I never knew you”? Despite objections to the contrary, it is quite evident that “Away from me . . .” carries the same connotations as “Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels” elsewhere in Matthew (Matt 25:41). An alternative interpretation that is somewhat popular is that these people have not done the Father’s will, which, according to Jesus in John’s Gospel, is to believe in Jesus (see John 6:40).[5] But these people have believed in Jesus. They call Jesus “Lord, Lord,” and they have carried out various activities in his name. But as is common in the New Testament, there is such a thing as belief or faith that turns out not to be non-saving (e.g., John 2:23–25; 8:31–47; 1 Cor 15:1–2; James 2:14–19).

      The second issue, quickly, is when will Jesus says these words? The future tense (“Not everyone . . . will enter”; “Many will say”; “I will tell them plainly”) together with the phrase “on that day” indicates that this is a scene that will play out the final judgment. As to the question of whether these people were ever ‘saved,’ I think not given that Jesus says, “I never knew you.” But I don’t think this question is as important as we often think it is. Whether these people have lost their salvation or never had it, makes no practical difference in the end. But that is enough on that for now.

      The more important question, by a country mile, is what is “the will of my Father”? since not doing the Father’s will is what excludes people from the kingdom? Doing the Father’s will is an essential concept in the New Testament. Jesus, in Matthew, announces that “whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother” (Matt 12:50). Similarly, Hebrews encourages its readers of the “need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised”, going on to make clear that what is promised is salvation (Heb 10:36, 39). And John: “whoever does the will of God lives forever” (1 John 2:17). It is not those who confess Jesus Lordship that will enter the kingdom but only those who do the Father’s will. This is something Matthew, in particular, wants to highlight. What though is the Father’s will?

      Jesus tells some pointed parables aimed directly at “the chief priests and the elders of the people” (Matt 21:23). The first parable (21:28–32) compares two sons. The first son, while initially refusing to listen to his father and work in his vineyard, eventually changes his mind and does what his father told him. The second son says he’ll go but never does. The point of the parable centres on this question: “Which of the two did what his father wanted?”, or more literally in the Greek: “Which of the two did the will of the father?” The point of the parable, Jesus makes clear in the end, is that Israel’s leaders are not entering the kingdom because they have not done the Father’s will (21:31b–32).

      As to what the Father’s will is, Jesus fleshes out in a second parable immediately following; about a landowner who planted a vineyard and leased it out to farmers (Matt 21:33–44). When it came time for the landowner to collect “fruit” from the vineyard, the farmers beat or killed whoever the landowner sent, the last one being his son. The parable is clear: “the kingdom of God will be taken away from [the Jews] and given to a people who will produce its fruit” (21:43).

      The Father’s will, then, is that His people produce “fruit.” Readers of Matthew’s Gospel will remember that early on, John the Baptist tells Israel’s leaders to “Produce fruit in keeping with repentance. And do not think you can say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father.’. . . The axe is already at the root of the trees, and every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire” (Matt 3:8–10). In other words, fruit is what will count at the final judgment. One’s family tree has nothing to do with it. We need to understand how this would have sounded to first-century Jewish ears, who while they believed that God would one day judge the world and separate the wicked from the righteous, did not believe that Israel would be on the wrong side of the ledger.

      That fruit counts at the final judgment turns out to be a central theme in Matthew’s Gospel, a theme that his structure makes strikingly clear. Matthew’s five major sections each end with a strong ethical thrust concerning the final judgment. 1) Only those who put Jesus’ words into practice will escape judgment (Matt 7:24–27); 2) only those who take up their cross and follow Jesus will be rewarded at the judgment (10:37–42); 3) at the end of the age the wicked will be separated from the righteous, those that sin from those who do evil (13:40–50); 4) God will show no mercy to those who have not shown mercy to others (18:23–35); and 5) the Son of Man will separate the righteous from the unrighteous at the final judgment, the former will inherit the kingdom, the latter will “go away into eternal punishment” (25:21–46).

      Thus, it is not just texts here and there, but Matthew has so crafted his Gospel to make the point that fruit arising from repentance is what will count at the final judgment, not taking solace in “We have Abraham as our father” (Matt 3:9).

      But still, we have not answered what doing the Father’s will, or fruit means. Another big picture sweep of Matthew reveals that Jesus repeatedly indicts Israel’s leaders for not knowing their Scriptures: “Haven’t you read what David did” (Matt 12:3), “haven’t you read in the Law” (12:5), “Haven’t you read [in Genesis 1–2]” (19:4), “have you never read [in Psalm 8]” (21:16), “Have you never read in the Scriptures” (21:42), “have you not read what God said to you [in Exodus]” (22:31)? Now, of course, they have read their Scriptures; they know them well. They “sit in Moses’ seat” (23:2), teach the Scriptures (23:7, 10), are familiar with the finer details of the law (23:24), and are knowledgeable about Israel’s Messiah (2:4–6; 22:42). So what do they not understand?

      The Scriptures are, of course, the place where God has revealed his will to Israel (cf. Rom 2:18). Therefore, for Jesus to question Israel’s knowledge or understanding of their Scriptures, is to question their understanding of God’s will. We see this clearly in Matthew’s twice repeated reference to a central Scripture, Hosea 6:6: “I desire mercy, not sacrifice”? (Matt 9:13; 12:7). No other Gospel writer cites this verse, and yet Matthew does so, and twice! A significant clue!

      Matthew’s use of Hosea for the overall point he wants to make cannot be overstated. First, we should not miss the fact that the word “desire” in the Hosea citation is the Greek word “will!” God’s will is mercy, not sacrifice. Notice the two contexts in which Jesus employs Hosea. In the first context, the Pharisees protest against Jesus eating with “tax collectors and sinners” (Matt 9:9–11). They do not care that these people are “sick” and in need of a “doctor,” to use Jesus’ analogy. They are more interested in remaining pure and undefiled before God, and for that, they must separate themselves from sinners.

      In chapter 12, the Pharisees protest again, this time against the disciples who upon feeling hungry while walking through a grain field, pick and nibble on some grain—on the Sabbath! The Pharisees do not care that the disciples are hungry, only that they are doing what is “not lawful” (Matt 12:1–8).

      In both these scenarios, sacrifice—a fastidious obsession with obeying the law—has replaced mercy. The heart of Jesus’ critique in both cases mirrors that of another confrontation between Jesus and Israel’s leadership. In Matthew 15, the Pharisees and teachers of the law once again protest against the disciples’ application of the law. But this is merely another example of sacrifice before mercy; an unhealthy obsession with the law and its requirements: money that should go toward parents in their old age is kept back so as not to break an oath made to God.

      Do you see the problem that Jesus is rallying against? Let me put it plainly: Israel’s leaders care more about obedience and holiness than they do about people. Matthew 23:23 expresses the heart of Jesus’ critique: “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices—mint, dill and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy and faithfulness. You should have practised the latter, without neglecting the former.”

      Jesus describes the people who he never knew as “workers of lawlessness” (Matt 7:23; NIV has “evildoers”). Since then “the more important matters of the law” are “justice, mercy and faithfulness” there is no question that those who do the Father’s will are those who are also characterised by justice, mercy and faithfulness. Elsewhere Jesus says that where “lawlessness” exists, “love” has grown cold (24:12). Again, let’s put this plainly: those who Jesus never knew may have been focused on exercising wonderful gifts, but they have not been focused on people.

      The threads and themes in Matthew’s Gospel substantiate this conclusion. One obvious theme is that of mercy. For a start, the mercy word group occurs more frequently in Matthew than any of the other Gospels (see Matt 5:7; 6:2–4; 9:13, 27; 12:7; 15:22; 17:15; 18:33; 20:30–31; 23:23). Accompanying this theme is Matthew’s emphasis on attitudes and behaviour toward other people (5:21–26, 38–42, 43–46; 6:12, 14–15; 7:1–5, 12; 9:9–13; 10:40–42; 12:1–7; 18:6–35; 22:36–40; 23:23; 24:12; 25:31–46). These emphases explain why Jesus sums up the Law and the Prophets as “do to others what you would have them do to you” (7:12) and “Love your neighbour as yourself (22:39–40). Hence, “for Matthew, the love command presents the core of God’s will.” [6]

      What might we say about this concerning application? Though we could say more, here are a couple of things:

      First, we need to be careful that we don’t get the wrong idea of holiness or righteousness. If someone asked you “How is your relationship with God?” what would you say? Where would your mind go? What criteria would you use? Typically, we go to our Quiet Times. We think about how often we are ‘in the word’ and prayer, how vibrant is our ‘connection’ with God? But without wanting to sound too dismissive, where did we ever get the idea that these kinds of things marked a relationship with God? Just read Isaiah 58 and John 13:34–35 for an alternative answer. J. I. Packer has observed that it is possible for “fellow believers” to be “constantly seeking to advance themselves in godliness” and yet “show little direct interest in God himself.” According to Packer, “There is something narcissistic and, to tell the truth, nutty in being more concerned about godliness than about God.” [7] Imagine being more concerned about holiness than God. Who is at the centre of such an obsession? Is it not “I,” myself? The only reason we would place holiness above God is because being holy makes us feel worthy, acceptable, clean. Who enjoys feeling like a sinner? I mean it’s one thing to know that we are a sinner, but it’s another thing to experience it.

      Do you ever feel like going out and witnessing or saving people when you fall into sin? Or perhaps spending some sustained time in prayer and repentance? Why? It’s just possible that we are unwilling to confront the reality of our own hearts. John Coe observes that it is possible for sincere Christians to hide behind things such as prayer, reading the Bible, holiness, and ministry “to avoid feelings of guilt and . . . shame.” [8] He articulates the phenomenon as the attempt to deal with our spiritual failure, guilt and shame by means of spiritual efforts, by attempting to perfect one’s self in the power of the self. It is the attempt of the well-intentioned believer to use spiritual formation, spiritual disciplines, ministry, service, obedience—being good in general—as a way to relieve the burden of spiritual failure, lack of love and the guilt and shame that results.[9]

      In case you haven’t realised, all this leads to self-righteousness, which is precisely the problem with the Pharisees. But self-righteous people will never be able to extend love and mercy to sinners, not real love and mercy. Only broken people can minister to broken people. We all know what it’s like to have struggled with something, and in turn, been effective in being able to help someone else down the track with a similar struggle. But self-righteous people are judgmental (Matt 7:1–5) and saltless (5:13–14), good for nothing; unable to help. They are concerned about being holy, but only because they want to avoid contamination, not realising that they are already contaminated, they only need to see the depth of it for themselves (see 5:3–6). When they do, they are then free to extend radical amounts of love and mercy to others, knowing just how much they themselves have been recipients of God’s love and mercy (6:14–15).

      The second point of application is to note how enamoured we can be with greatness (Matt 18:1–4). And yet Matthew is fond of exalting the last to the place of first (Matt 5:3–6; 18:1–4; 19:30; 20:16; 21:31), which of course is exactly what had happened to Matthew (9:9). There are two types of religion, or righteousness, in Matthew. There is a righteousness that is characterised by great activity: prophesying, casting out demons and performing miracles (7:21–23); great attention: giving, praying and fasting (6:1–18); great exclusion (9:1–13; 12:1–14; 15:1–11); and great appearance (chap. 23).

      But in the midst of all of this greatness, Matthew presents another kind of righteousness: those who give “even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones who is my disciple” (10:42). This kind of righteousness seeks no recognition (6:1–18), in fact it is a righteousness that would not even label its acts as righteous (25:35–37). It is a righteousness that is ‘learned’ from the one who is “gentle and humble in heart” (11:28–30). He leads the way: entered this world as a nobody (chaps. 1–2), accepted a sinners baptism (3:13–17), gained a reputation for being “a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners” (11:19), and ended up where no self-respecting God person would want to be seen, on a Roman cross reserved for sinners, nobodies and criminals (chap. 27). Yes, there were miracles, demons were cast out, prophesying occurred, but that his fate was crucifixion demonstrates where his real focus always was: “not as I will, but as you will” (26:39).

      [1] D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Studies in the Sermon on the Mount (Nottingham: IVP, 1959-60), 577.

      [2] J. C. Ryle, Expository Thoughts on the Gospels (1856: anniversary edition of Matthew and Mark, Zondervan), 69–70, cited in John Stott, The Message of the Sermon on the Mount: Christian Counter-Culture (BST; Leicester: IVP, 1978), 205.

      [3] S. de Diétrich, Saint Matthew (London, 1962) cited in Leon Morris, The Gospel According to Matthew (PNTC; Grand Rapids: IVP, 1992), 181.

      [4] http://adamkoppin.blogspot.com/2011/08/i-never-knew-you.html.

      [5] Bob Wilkin, “Not Everyone Who Says ‘Lord, Lord’ Will Enter the Kingdom: Matthew 7:21-23” http://www.faithalone.org/news/y1988/88dec3.html.

      [6] Petri Luomanen, Entering the Kingdom of Heaven: A Study on the Structure of Matthew’s View of Salvation (Tübingen: Mohr, 1998), 98.

      [7] J. I. Packer, Meeting God: A Lifeguide Bible Study (Madison, Wis.: InterVarsity, 1986), 9 cited in Larry Crabb, Shattered Dreams: God’s Unexpected Path to Joy (Colorado Springs: WaterBrook Press, 2001), 182–83.

      [8] John Coe, “Resisting the Temptation of Moral Formation: Opening to Spiritual Formation in the Cross and the Spirit,” Journal of Spiritual Formation and Soul Care 1 (Spring 2008), 63.

      [9] Coe, “Resisting the Temptation of Moral Formation,” 55.

      Posted in Scribbles | 0 Comments
    • Right Ecclesiology in the Wrong Era

      Posted at 5:02 pm by scribblingtheology, on March 12, 2020

      I’ve been to a lot of different churches in my time. Lutheran, Roman Catholic, Anglican, Presbyterian, Pentecostal, Church of Christ, CoC, Hillsong, and Baptist (the one true Church).  I’ve been to them all, and I’ve loved and hated all of them. Before I get stuck into it, there’s no such thing as a perfect church because it’s full of imperfect people. However, the way I see it is that God, through His Word, gives us guidelines of what a healthy church should look like in a sinful and broken world. So, as I’ve perused the many different churches that I’ve been to over the years, I can’t help but ask myself “why does every church seem to miss the mark when it comes to being a biblically healthy church?” The answer is modernity and “church models”. I’ve come to realise that sound biblical principles for church become increasingly challenging to enforce and live by in a world that has strayed so far from first-century models of church. Take complementarianism, for example. It’s almost impossible to know where to draw the line for where women can and can’t teach scripture. Every complementarian agrees they shouldn’t be elders and teach God’s Word on a Sunday over the congregation, but what about conferences, homegroups, youth groups, leadership retreats, and bible colleges?

      We do all of these things because they’re good for us, yet none of them are biblical church practices, at best they’re extra-biblical. It has become increasingly challenging to fit sound biblical principles into modern church paradigms, and I haven’t been to a single church that doesn’t struggle with this. Take church membership as another example. We believe that there are members of local churches, yet we all disagree on how they should be identified, how they should participate and be active in our local churches. Does there need to be formal membership (I’d say so), or is anyone fair game? What benefits are there for our church members? What do we expect of them? Again, the Bible tells us to bear one another’s burdens, pray and love one another and to minister to one another. However, what church membership looks like, has become hard to define in an era where the church has become very individualistic and program orientated. Instead of flourishing members of a local church, we slot people into programs to facilitate their needs and gifts rather than allowing them to organically yet intentionally serve one another in Christ. So my question to us then is “how do we return to the ancient ways of doing church in the modern era?”

      First, we have to consider what church is. I think I’ve said this elsewhere, but theologically the church is understood in two ways. It is universal and invisible. It is comprised of every Christian throughout space and time in which Christ is the head. It is also local and visible. It is where people visibly and tangibly gather to worship God, where the invisible church is locally represented. This is comprised of both Christians and non-Christians. So then, the local church is a group of people in any building or space gathering together to worship the God of the Bible. However, this definition assumes something, that the Bible is central to the function of the local church. Without it, we wouldn’t know who God is, who the Messiah is, or what the Gospel is.

      This is where we start to recover the ancient ways of doing church. God’s Word being delivered to His people through the prophets and the apostle’s teachings were always central to the gathering of the saints. It’s what leads them to worship and be transformed into a flourishing community of God’s people. Without the Bible being taught and shared faithfully, there is no local church because they’d be no way to know who God even is let alone worship. This, of course, presupposes that there are teachers.

      The Bible calls these “teachers” elders, overseers, shepherds and pastors. They guide each church as they faithfully proclaim the Word of the Lord, as they commit themselves to prayer and demonstrate His goodness through their character (1 Tim 3:1-7; Tit 1:5-9). Without this crucial role, the sheep would be lost without their God-ordained undershepherds. In His divine wisdom, God has deliberately called wise men to guide His sheep in His Word so that they may be nourished upon the Word and led into the green pastures of His Kingdom. However, it’s not only that the sheep need their shepherds, but rather the shepherds also need their sheep as well. This is called biblical church membership.

      Biblical church membership sounds scary. Well, it is. This is because membership is about:

      1. Service: loving others and self-sacrifice (Matt 22:34-40)
      2. Transparency: confessing sin and being open about struggles (Jas 5:16)
      3. Humility: allowing others to correct, rebuke and exhort you (Matt 18:15-17)
      4. Submission: to the elders, deacons, and other church members (1 Pet 5:5; Heb 13:17)
      5. Commitment: to the regular weekly gathering of the saints (Heb 10:25)
      6. Jesus as King (worshipping, loving and proclaiming the Gospel to the world)

      Real biblical membership is organic and Spirit-driven. It doesn’t rely on the programs offered by the church before its members can serve, it naturally seeks out the needs of others and loves them even if there isn’t an official ministry in that category yet. Real biblical membership causes us to see the importance of loving one another, submitting to our leaders and other members and to be real about sin and self. Biblical fellowship says, “I am publically, with this local church, identifying as a member of God’s Kingdom in which I am now accountable not only to God but others, and they – me.” With authentic biblical Spirit-led membership, the world should be able to look upon your church and see a legitimate slice of the Kingdom of God and covet it. Finally, I’d add a few other must-haves in a biblical church:

      • The sacraments: baptism and the Lord’s Supper (Rom 6; Col 2:9-15)
      • Deacons: those who are set apart to help out the practical needs of the church (Acts 6:1-16; 1 Tim 3:8-13)
      • Worship: singing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs and prayer (Eph 5:19; 1 Tim 2:1-3)
      • Spiritual gifts: the right biblical practice of spiritual gifts (1 Cor 12)
      • Missional: a church must be joining God in His mission to redeem the world around them, not just the building they gather in (Matt 28:16-20)

      So then, this is what makes up a biblical church. However, how do we squeeze these biblical principles into the modern age? I suggest a radical renovation of our church models and methods. Rather than trying to fit what’s biblical into the contemporary church, let’s make it, so the modern church fits the biblical principles.

      Church size: It’s nice to have hundreds or thousands of people eating out of the palm of your hand every Sunday, the problem is this becomes a nightmare to manage. It’s so challenging to practice organic loving and intentional church membership and eldership care when you might see one church member once every 3 or 4 years if you were to get around to everyone. Ok, sure, more leaders and a bigger pastoral care team might be helpful. It’s not impossible to run a big church. However, I have a sneaking suspicion that instead of building a church in one spot or area (sounds familiar right? Genesis 11 and Acts), the church is meant to plant and multiply. It’s supposed to spread and take the Gospel to the ends of the earth. So let’s strip back the sizes of our churches, love our members well, and invest in church planting. Imagine hundreds if not thousands of little churches all gathering together to worship the Lord and committed to one another instead of monster mega-churches dominating our areas that let too many Christians fall through the cracks. 

      Programs: when we strip back the size of our churches, we start to find that programs aren’t as important as loving one another, the ministry of the Word and mission becomes more organic and personal. We don’t need to rely on chat and chew mum’s groups or men’s breakfasts to love one another (don’t get me wrong; these can be helpful). Instead, as we’re encouraged by biblical teaching, and as we’re in close spiritual proximity to one another we’re almost compelled to ask our fellow Christian “are you ok? How can I pray for you? What are you struggling with? Can we help you?” even if I usually don’t socialise with them in other areas of life. All of a sudden church is becoming deep, more than a superficial club or a thing we do on a Sunday to pass the time. We actually begin to care about people, not performing for there is no space for performance in the ancient church.

      Imagine you find yourself stranded on a deserted island with nothing but a copy of the Bible. You have no experience with Christianity whatsoever, and all you know about the Church will come from your reading of the Bible. How would you imagine a church to function? Seriously. Close your eyes for two minutes and try to picture “Church” as you would know it. Now think about your current church experience. Is it even close? Can you live with that?
      ― Francis Chan

      Posted in Scribbles | 0 Comments
    • Systematic Theology vs Biblical Theology

      Posted at 1:07 pm by scribblingtheology, on February 10, 2020

      When I started to think through my Christian faith, I would do so in terms of fixed categories. For example, Calvinist or Arminian. The Trinity. Premillennial, Amillenial or Postmillennial. Baptist, Anglican, or Pentecostal. Cessationist or Continuationist and many, many more. These are all systematic categories, and they’re helpful because they help the Church to navigate the often muddied waters of theology (of what to believe and not to believe). This kind of approach to neatly defining the Faith is very Western. Starting with the early church fathers through to the reformation and into the modern age we often (not always) find systematicians heavily influenced by Western categorical approaches to Christianity. Despite the influence of deconstructionism, this has actually been a good thing. Faithful theologians like Augustine, Luther, Calvin and Zwingli have used systematics to both guards against heresy and to recover biblical Christianity. However, the use of these sorts of categories has not always been so helpful (at least in my experience.

      Throughout my time studying theology and living the Christian life, I have encountered many people who have taken these systematic categories and formed an identity out of it. All of a sudden Calvinism or Arminianism is equated to true Christianity, and anyone else needs to repent and believe. Instead of one Faith, one body, one Spirit, other Christians become second class where they’re ostracised and considered unclean. Tribes within Christianity are formed, and instead of defending the walls, we turn on one another desperate for theological supremacy. Theology in many corners of the Faith has gone from serving the Church to destroying it all because of pride. I admit I have played my own part in this terrible ordeal and as I continue to move past it, I look back, and I can count three main things that helped me shed my theological prejudice and pride:

      1. Biblical theology
      2. Jesus’ commands to love others
      3. The opportunity to love others

      For me, biblical theology saved me from possibly years and years of tribalism and systematic theology supremacy. While categories were helpful, I began to learn that the Bible isn’t a systematic textbook. Instead, it’s a narrative leading to Jesus Christ and the salvation of humanity. Sometimes categories like free will, God’s sovereignty, the trinity, and total depravity, while correct weren’t so cut and dry. All of a sudden, I went from neatly coloured boxes to colouring just outside of the lines which actually unified the Scriptures for me better overall than ever before. This is where I began to hold “tensions.” Yes, humanity is totally depraved, yet we have stories such as Noah or Abraham, finding favour in God’s eyes because of their faith. Yes, God is sovereign over every atom and movement throughout history, yet we see God hold people accountable for their own free actions. Things weren’t so neat anymore, and I loved it. It was freeing to not bind myself to any-one camp or tribe instead I now strive to commit myself to biblical Christianity (yes I see the irony in that statement, you gotta draw a line somewhere). Now I have genuine friends whom I love in all sorts of camps that I love to float to and fro from. Which leads me to my next point…

      The second thing that saved me from my theological pride was to take the command to love others seriously. This is, an ongoing journey, but until recently, I just hadn’t obeyed this command. For me being an Arminian was more important than loving my Calvinist brothers in Christ. It was more important for me to defend human free will then it was to bear their burdens, to weep with them and to rejoice with them. I thought “if only I could convince them that Jesus really did die for every single person and not just the elect then they’d be better Christians” when in reality what they needed was someone to pray for them and to minister to them in love. God placed one such person in my life that until recently was an ongoing struggle to love and be a brother too. For the longest time, we took every opportunity to one-up each other, to flex our theological minds until the Spirit broke us and bonded us in love. Now we can’t stop talking to one another as we bounce off one another in love for each other’s benefits to the glory of God.

      Finally, biblical theology and systematic theology needs one another (sprinkled with a bit of love). Without biblical theology, systematics become rigid, demanding and inflexible. Yet without systematics, biblical theology can easily be led down the path of liberalism. Our categorised theological traditions safeguard the Faith and have done so for thousands of years. So let us study theology to our heart’s content. Let us do so with discernment and wisdom, the love of Christ and a spirit of worship.

      The goal of theology is the worship of God. The posture of theology is on one’s knees. The mode of theology is repentance.  – Sinclair B. Ferguson

      Posted in Scribbles | 0 Comments
    • Christian Deconstructionism: The Good and the Bad

      Posted at 2:17 pm by scribblingtheology, on February 8, 2020

      When I first became a Christian, I swallowed everything hook, line and sinker. I was taught premillennialism, young-earth creationism, and that the Bible was always meant to be read literally unless there was an excellent reason to read it otherwise. Of course, anyone else was wrong and against the purest form of our Faith. These days as I’ve gone through my own sort of deconstructionism, I find myself in a very different place. I’m now an amillennial, an evolutionary creationist, and I’ve learnt to read Scripture according to its literary genre and context. Some of these things might sound fairly mundane to some of you, but for me, even the most basic of these concepts set me on a trajectory that would radically shape the way I relate to God, the Word, humanity and creation. So, rather than walking away from Christianity (which so often happens with people who go through things like this) I pressed forward trusting that God would conform me to the image of His Son (Rom 8:29).

      So what is Deconstructionism? Philosophically, it is the idea that there is no fixed meaning in a text. Instead, everything in any given text is subjective and open to rigorous interpretation (originated by Jacques Derrida 1930-2004). As all things often do, this idea spilt over into a popular Christian movement in the West where traditionally held to beliefs like I’ve listed above (among others) are challenged and pulled apart (deconstructed) and are held up to scrutiny. Once plainly understood verses and passages are now challenged, reinterpreted and reapplied. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. One author defines deconstructionism like this:

      “Let’s say our faith was like a sweater. Yarn: our ideology. Weave: our tradition. This is how you wear it. Don’t change it, even if the sweater doesn’t keep you warm any more. Even if it’s too tight or the threads cut off oxygen at your neck. This is the way. Doubts and questions mean disrespect, and those are the seeds of evil, so just don’t.

      But over the years, a thread comes loose and you try to just tuck it in alongside the others. You can cover the fraying up. You can pull the thread and think, ‘Oh, I don’t need this one, because it is harmful to me; it’s itchy and gets caught on corners.’ It comes out easily. And the sweater stays together. Then you pull another, and another, and soon you find all the yarn is gone. You have deconstructed the entire thing. You are left naked. People gawk and run away, and you feel two opposing things: the freedom of glorious nakedness, and the fear of the same.”

      Lisa Gungor, writing in The Most Beautiful Thing I’ve Seen (Zondervan)

      I have to admit I have felt the freedom of being naked and the fear that comes with change and the judgement you often feel from the people around you who still hold firmly to their traditional beliefs (God bless ’em). Deconstructing one’s Faith is a beautiful, liberating endeavour where (at least in my experience) it has led me into a deeper faith than I ever had before. However, that hasn’t been true for everyone. Unfortunately, people stay naked and join a commune (if you’re still tracking with the metaphor) and never come back. Over the years, there have been a few famous people who have fit this category. Rob Bell started off fairly conservative/ fundamental went through his own deconstruction and now (as much as I love the guy) is hardly even a Christian. This process needs to be walked with wisdom and discernment. That’s ironically a little subjective I know, but my point is that the human heart, while we often mean well and strive for goodness, it’s quite deceptive and easily led astray.  Human nature is a chaotic mess that needs order which takes time and patience under the hand of God. Deconstructionism coupled with dedication for reconstructionism can be either a beautiful part of this process (which we usually call sanctification) or, if done without wisdom it can be destructive.

      So here are a few thoughts and perhaps guidelines for people going through this or for people watching their loved ones going through it:

      1. Christ-like humility. Whether your a black and white fundamentalist or a Christian who is wrestling with some of the hardest questions of our Faith, it all must be done with extreme humility. That is to say, if you’re worried about your friend going through deconstructionism, remember that at some point in your walk with God you didn’t have all the right answers either and I’m sure you still don’t. Don’t let your dedication to guarding that which you’ve been bought up in cloud your ability to love your brother or sister in Christ.

      If you are deconstructing, remember that tradition is wisdom. There have been dozens if not hundreds of learned scholars and theologians throughout church history who have tackled the same things you’re wrestling with. You aren’t a lone wolf. Humbly seek the advice of the sages and saints who have gone before you and of those who are around you.

      2. The centrality of God’s Word. God speaks, and He does so primarily through the Scriptures. If you’re watching your friend go through deconstructionism trust that God will work through His Word and through His people (even you). If you’re going through deconstruction, remember that God’s Word is trustworthy and good. You might be struggling with the idea of inerrancy (I’ve been there) or inspiration, but there is a reason why it’s the most popular book in the history of humanity.

      The Way of the Righteous and the Wicked
      Blessed is the man
      who walks not in the counsel of the wicked,
      nor stands in the way of sinners,
      nor sits in the seat of scoffers;
      but his delight is in the law of the LORD,
      and on his law he meditates day and night.

      He is like a tree
      planted by streams of water
      that yields its fruit in its season,
      and its leaf does not wither.
      In all that he does, he prospers.
      The wicked are not so,
      but are like chaff that the wind drives away.

      – Psalm 1:1–4

      3. Finally, as you deconstruct your Faith do so prayerfully and with the expectation that God will work in you good things. Invite God along for the ride, continuously examine yourself, making sure that you’re deconstructing with the right intentions and attitudes. Some use deconstruction as a way out of the Faith, seeking to justify other lifestyles. Instead, let the Spirit move in you as you work out your salvation with fear and trembling. Oh and remember, take every question to God no matter how heretical or silly it sounds. God wants to work at it with you.

      Posted in Scribbles | 1 Comment
    • Chaotic Love

      Posted at 8:56 am by scribblingtheology, on January 15, 2020

      I hate love stories, they always make cry, I’ve never even read a love novel. My favourite stories are love tragedies. Samson and Delilah, Romeo and Juliet, West Side Story, The Titanic. The 2003 classic Love Actually has to be one of my all-time favourite love movies though. In particular, the scene where Andrew Lincoln stands outside of Keira Knightley’s door as he boldly declares his love for her all the while her new husband is inside watching T.V always makes me cry. Oh, what could have been? I feel for the guy. Completely in love with a woman he can never have. How long has he been thinking about her, imagining what life what have been like had he met her first? Then, finally, he spills his feelings in a romantic gesture to only walk away from it all, leaving us all wondering if there was a next? What I love about the scene is that he was, at least eventually, so forward with his feelings, yet it didn’t end up the way he’d hope despite his years of dreaming.

      Presenting the unfortunate drama of love and life.

      Personally, love has taken its toll. There’s always a cost with love, a risk that we’re usually blind to because we so desperately want to believe that a knight in shining armour will rescue us from our towers. Thanks, Dinsey. For a lot of people, we swipe right, meet, fall in love and get married. We spend thousands and thousands of dollars on a day where despite the vows, despite the promises made, despite the people cheering and wishing you well, nothing is assured. Meet reality.

      Love is real, but Disney is a myth. Love is as whimsical and as magical as it is practical and painful. Love can happen in an instant, or it develops over time and can be gone the next day again. Love can make you giddy, content, or crazy. People have fought wars over love and swam across oceans, others have simply knocked on the door while being invited in for some ice tea, or they walk away knowing that may never get the one they want. Love binds and breaks, it enlightens and makes us stupid. It cannot be controlled, simply guided. For the Christian love is governed by the Bible, for others, it’s guided by whatever it is their worldview presupposes. However, even for the Christian, as much as we want to believe it, the Bible isn’t a sure way to cover us from the chaotic nature that is love. Love is patient, love is kind and Christian marriage should endure. Life though throws us a curveball, and when love comes crashing down around you in all of its forms, we must beg the questions what now?

      Many of you know my story, many of you may not. This isn’t a sceptical reaction to love. I love, love. I thrive on it, and I think you do too. If I can offer any wisdom or advice on the topic of love, it is this:

      1. Love is a chaotic force that can bring a lot of peace and order to your life. It is not to be taken lightly, yet there is something about it that’s magical.
      2. How love works depends on your choices, yet it can’t be controlled.
      3. Let love take you places, yet be wise in your dealings with it.
      4. Never, ever give up on it, despite its fickle nature, it doesn’t give up on you.
      Posted in Scribbles | 0 Comments
    • Politically Christian

      Posted at 12:37 pm by scribblingtheology, on January 7, 2020

      Australia is on fire, and the Greens are to blame, or maybe Scott Morrison is. Trump ordered an assassination on the Iranian Major General Qasem Soleimani which, as Iran promises, guarantees severe consequences and international backlash. Climate change, LGBTQI, international trade and globalisation, human rights. The world is in rapid flux. Peace one day, on fire the next. Politics are unavoidable.

      I never thought I’d admit it but to be Christian is to be inescapably political. Here’s why:

      1. Christians live in a kingdom with a king who rules over every other system of government and power (Psalm 2, Daniel 2:21, Matthew 28:18, Revelation 1:4-5).
      2. Christians, therefore, are inherently monarchists who bow the knee to King Jesus. This is a political stance. We’re saying every other government is on borrowed power and time from a higher power which reigns over them eternally.
      3. Therefore, whenever we vote for a leader or a policy, we do it with Jesus in mind. We must ask ourselves if what it is we’re voting for is aligned with God’s kingdom revealed in His Word (Matthew 5-7 is a great place to start).
      4. Whenever we do vote, whenever we get involved in politics, as citizens of God’s kingdom, we are declaring something about who God is. If we vote for climate change policies, we are saying God cares about the environment. If we vote against abortion, we’re declaring that God cares about all life. If we vote for religious freedom, we’re showing that God, at least in this age, gives everyone the freedom to decide who they will worship.

      In the ever-intensifying geopolitical climate that we all live in, we must prepare ourselves for what is to come. Politics is unavoidable, and because of the Gospel we preach, and the King that we worship we’re already involved in politics anyway. Let’s hold up a minute. Before we go gate crashing the government and rioting for change, Christian, change happens first within the Church itself. If you haven’t already go and read Awaiting the King by James K. A. Smith, one of the best books I read last year among others. In it, Smith argues that

      1. Being political is actually worship
      2. Worship is actually political
      3. That influencing the political world happens first in and through the Church.
      4. When we do inevitably engage in the political sphere, do so with hopeful reservation.

      Which begs the question, what is worship? Singing? Yes. Reading the Bible? Yes. Prayer? Yes, though worship is more. Worship is loving one another as yourself. It’s actually everything you do every day for the rest of your life to the glory of God. Why? Because as a Christian, you are in Christ, the temple, the place where worship happens, where communion between God and His people meet. You cannot escape worship, and you cannot escape than being political because we don’t worship only God but a King of Kings and a Lord of Lords. So here are my easy steps to being a healthy political Christian in 2020:

      • Go to a sacramental centred church. As Smith argues, it is through the liturgical means of the church that the people of God are transformed. Baptism and the Lord’s Supper demonstrate the Gospel, and the Word proclaims it (these are the three sacraments given to the church by Christ).
      • As the Word transforms, as the Supper of the Lord’s death seeps into your soul and Baptism brings you life, love one another fiercely, so that the rest of the world looks on with jealousy and awe. This means that you need to meet other’s needs. Meet them in brokenness, forgive them when they sin against you.
      • Go out and proclaim the Gospel, which is the power of God to save. Before any political reform happens, hearts need to be changed, and only God can do that through the Good News proclaimed by the Church.
      • Engage in the public sphere with a now but not yet mentality. What we do and vote for matters in eternity, however, remember that Jesus is still to return and make all things new at His second coming.

      This 2020 be wise in your engagement in the political sphere. Love, worship and rest knowing Jesus reigns and the world is indeed running on fumes.

       

      The call to follow Christ, the call to desire his kingdom, does not simplify our lives by segregating us in some “pure” space; to the contrary, the call to bear Christ’s image complicates our lives because it comes to us in the midst of our environments without releasing us from them. – James K. A. Smith

      Posted in Scribbles | 0 Comments
    • 2019 Mix Up: My Five Favourite Blogs of the Year

      Posted at 6:50 am by scribblingtheology, on December 16, 2019

      Here is a list of my top five favourite blogs I’ve written this year for your viewing pleasure:

      1. Genesis 1-11 Part I: Authorship, Context and Genre
      2. Let’s Fight Depression
      3. The Local Church: A Slice of the New Earth
      4. Between Churches
      5. My Year in Review: 2019
      Posted in Scribbles | 0 Comments
    ← Older posts
    Newer posts →
    • Recent Posts

      • Thoughts on the Sacraments
      • Why I’ve Become an Atheist
      • Church
      • 2020 Mix Up: My Five Favourite Blogs of the Year
      • 2020: My Year in Review
    • Archives

    • Facebook

      Facebook
    • Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Website Powered by WordPress.com.

Scribbling Theology:
Website Powered by WordPress.com.
Cancel

 
Loading Comments...
Comment
    ×