- Scribbling Journal: Entry 2
- Jesus Wept: A Short Theological Reflection on Grief
- Being Human
- Short Reflections on Christian Politics
- Scribbling Journal: Entry 1
Happy New Year!
The thing about the Christian life is that no one really knows what they’re doing (this is true for most of life). There’s a reason why we have so many different denominations and sects. I’ve met pastors, scholars, and believers from all sorts of churches and traditions, and, apart from Jesus, the one thing we all have in common is that none of us really know what to do with it.
Once I met a guy who had a family, and he was an avid street evangelist. He would stand on street corners and loudly preach repentance. He was even arrested for it once. It wasn’t long after that, however, that he did a complete 180 and became aggressively antichristian in everything he did. He told me that he changed his mind on everything because we don’t even have the original copies of the bible. This surprised me because I wasn’t aware that we believed there were.
I used to meet regularly with a friend for coffee at a local cafe near the beach when I was a pastor. He was and still is one of the most passionate people about Jesus I’ve ever met. We used to talk about everything “bible.” From miracles to church to science and faith. One morning, as we were discussing science and biblical interpretation, he said that if evolution was true, he could never be a Christian. I was shocked. Here was one of the most lovely, passionate people I’ve met who never backs down from talking about Jesus to people and yet a single potential change in his worldview could lead to his entire faith being undermined.
I meet people like this day in and day out. I’m not saying there aren’t legitimate reasons why one would walk away from their faith. There is. The reasons above are justifiable. I completely get it. What surprises me is how easy it is for these reasons to cause us to walk away from something we’ve placed our entire identity on. Though I doubt and wrestle with God, and I sometimes wonder what life would be like if I didn’t follow Jesus, I’ll never not believe until I’m dead and come face to face with endless nothing. Until then, I’m winging it. I try to attend church, knowing it’s good for me, even if it’s boring. I read my bible, knowing that I am getting to know Jesus more and more, even if most of what it says is either lost on me or it just drags on. I try to pray even if no one talks back. I do good even if there’s not always sense in doing so. My life is based on risk. My life is a gamble. I believe my choices in the here and now will pay off in a potential eternity.
The irony is that if I gave it all up now, I’d be trading one sense of freedom for another and one doubt for the next. If I walked away from Jesus, I’d spend the rest of my life wondering if I made the right choice. What if He is real? What if Hell does exist? I would be wrestling with the God of Nothing, wondering if worshipping at his altar is any better than the last. Would I miss how the biblical story makes the most sense of my existence, or would I ignore the voice at the back of my mind and embrace the meaninglessness that my new God offers?
All this diatribe makes me wonder if Jesus struggled with the same levels of doubt. We’re told that he was tempted in every way we were, yet he was without sin… But did Jesus doubt that God was real (a strange thought given Jesus is God) or that he was imminent or in his corner? When offered the riches of the world from Satan, did he – even for a fleeting moment consider bending the knee? There’s debate within theological circles as to whether or not Jesus could really sin.
On the one hand, some say he can’t because God can’t sin. Others say his temptations couldn’t have been genuine if he couldn’t sin. The answer may depend on how you see the person of Jesus. There’s something comforting in the idea that the humanity of Christ genuinely struggled with doubt, questions and temptations on the same level that we are tempted. He overcame sin not because he was divine but because he was truly human. Which means most of us aren’t truly human. Which begs the question, what does it mean to be human?
I’ve been watching and listening to many of J. R. R. Tolkien’s works lately. The more I get into it, the more I identify with the Hobbits of all people, or I may want to identify with them. Living in the rolling lush green hills of the Shire with its winding creeks and rivers, the Hobbits are reclusive but communal. They’re simple and well-fed, not wanting to stick their noses where it doesn’t belong. Bilbo Baggins cooks, cleans and smokes his pipe. Frodo runs around the Shire and plays as they anticipate festivals and parties. They are living the human dream.
Furthermore, the one ring, perhaps one of if not the most corrupting power in Middle Earth, has a hard time genuinely turning them to darkness. Humans, on the other hand, wage war and consume and destroy anything they get their hands on. They build up their kingdoms, and the ring corrupts them very quickly.
I see the good life in the Shire, but I know it’s currently in the power-hungry cities and wartorn lands of men. I desire the carefree life of Bilbo (before he goes on his adventure), but I try to take it according to my own power rather than wait for the good life to be given to me. I maybe have 50 years-ish left on earth, and as I look back on the last 30 and the world around me, I realise that the thing that defines humans the most is having an idea of the good, striving for it, but in all the wrong ways.
The glory of God is man fully alive, but the life of a man is the vision of God.
– Ireneaus
The French theologian John Calvin once wrote, “Without knowledge of self, there is no knowledge of God.” It seems that even the great Protestant reformers who were famous for their emphasis on God’s sovereignty in history and salvation never intended for us to lose understanding of what it meant to be human. John Calvin seems to go even a step further as he stressed the importance of understanding ourselves to understand the Grand Creator of the universe. To me, this is a fascinating notion. All the theology and doctrine about God only make sense if we first understand who we are. This means, for the Christian, that we need to be deliberate in 1. knowing what it means to be human and 2. what it means to be “you” specifically. In this post, my goal is to reflect on these ideas and perhaps together, we can come to understand what it means to “John Doe the Human” and, in turn, catch a glimpse of the Creator Himself.
To Be Human
I already feel like I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. The doctrine of man, understanding and defining humanity is an enormous endeavour that philosophers, theologians, anthropologists, psychologists, and biologists have sailed for many years. Unfortunately, these disciplines rarely get along. Notably, within conservative evangelical circles, there is a distrust of the sciences in a bid to uphold and champion sola Scriptura. However, hermeneutics and the doctrine of scripture is not the topic of the blog. We will not get into age-old debates on science vs religion (many of you by now should know where I sit on these issues). We are here to reflect on what it means to be human, and as someone who has studied theology, that’s where my mind goes to when I begin to make sense of who we are (and I think it’s a pretty safe bet).
Over the last century or two, science, particularly in human biology, has made a lot of progress in what makes up a human materially. However, what makes up a human (cells, bones, tissue etc.), and what it means to be human are related but separate issues.
In Genesis 1, we have God creating the cosmos, and on day 6, He creates humanity “in His image and likeness (Gen 1:26).” There’s much to be said about the image of God. However, one doesn’t need to be a high theologian to know that something about humanity is tied up in the person of God. Human’s were “very good.” I can imagine God sitting back as He looks upon the male and female completely wrapped up in His very good creation as He eagerly awaits their flourishing. In turn, I can imagine humans walking with God in the cool of the day and then going out into the world to extend God’s loving, transformative presence into the natural world. One scholar understands the image of God as humans having been “put in the world to mediate God’s presence.” This, I believe, get us to the meaning of what it means to be human. Wherever we go, whatever we do, we are to bring God’s presence into our spaces, transforming the world around us. Therefore, to be human means to be so caught up in the person of God that you bring God’s presence into the world around us. Being human is functional, not just an ontological thing.
Jesus, The Human
If bringing God’s presence into the world is at the heart of what it means to be human, then we need to look no further than Christ Himself to find a man fully alive. The Scriptures tell us that Jesus was the cornerstone of the new living temple (John 1:14, 1:51, 2:18–22 and 4:20–24), a place in the ancient world where heaven and earth come together. Instead of a temple made of stone, this would be made of flesh and spirit. Jesus would be the First Stone, and His Church would be the living stones built upon the First (1 Corinthians 6:19-20; Ephesians 2:19-22; 1 Peter 2:4-7). Jesus acted. Jesus was about bringing the Kingdom of God to earth. Jesus did this by telling people to turn from their idols and sin (Matthew 4:17, 6:19-24), forgiving sin (Matthew 9:1-8; Mark 2:1-12), healing the sick (Mark 1:41-42), ministering to the marginalised (Matthew 19:14; Luke 4:14-30, 10:27-37), and dying so that we can be reconciled to God (2 Corinthians 5:18-21; Romans 5:8-11). This is a hard act to follow, perhaps. Jesus is a pretty amazing human (I have anxiety just thinking I could match up to this). However, here’s the point. Jesus, through His Spirit, is creating a new kind of humanity free from the burden of sin (Romans 6), but He hasn’t finished (we live in what’s called “the now and not yet”). The brokenness, sinfulness, and failure that still corrupt us is something God anticipates as He, over time, conforms us to the image of Jesus (Romans 8:29). The fully alive human is Jesus, and we become fully alive in Christ when we’re in step with His Spirit (Galatians 5:16), and while this is something we strive for, it isn’t a perpetual state of being on this side of eternity. Sanctification is a process, and becoming like Jesus takes time, and so does bringing God’s presence into the world. Remember, the Kingdom of God is a mustard seed that slowly grows and blooms. You play a significant part in nurturing that growth and inviting others to rest upon its branches, just don’t expect it to reach maturity today or perhaps even tomorrow.
Last Thoughts
G. K. Chesterton once wrote that “every man has forgotten who he is. One may understand the cosmos, but never the ego; the self is more distant than any star.” A significant theme in the Scriptures is how humanity has forgotten themselves and who they’re supposed to be. We have forgotten our God, we’re separated from Him, and therefore, we’re subhuman. However, Jesus invites us to be united to Him once more. I can think of no better definition for the Christian journey than to, as the ancient Greek maxim says, “know thy self” as we look at the face of Christ (2 Corinthians 3:18).
This is the sixth and final part in a series on apologetics that I’ve written with my friend Doug Espie over at Bride and World. To view earlier articles in the series, click on the following links
Part II: People and Apologetics
Part III: Christianity and the Questions of Right and Wrong
Part IV: Reflections on Why the Biblical Story Makes Sense
Part V: The Historical Evidence for Christianity
and this is Part VI on Deconstruction and Reconstruction. Enjoy!
Deconstruction is the scary and sometimes liberating process of taking apart traditional theological ideas and seeing if they hold up under scrutiny. Reconstruction is the reformation of those ideas, and where they end up are sometimes different and sometimes the same. For me, a big de-reconstruction was around the age of Earth and debates on Genesis 1-2. When I first became a Christian, I was told by many people around me that the Earth was roughly 6000 years old. Genesis 1-2 was a proof text that God created the universe out of nothing in 6 literal days, with a literal Adam and Eve being our first two parents and that no one else existed until they had Cain and Abel. I attended seminars and was taught that evolution was one of the biggest enemies that the Church faced. We had to protect the Church and future generations from this scientific and biblically false worldview. There were nights during street evangelism where I would spend hours debating atheists, agnostics, and people with an evolutionary/Darwinian worldview believing that if I could poke holes in their arguments just enough, it’d save them from Hell. Unfortunately, in my time during those arguments, I never succeeded in converting anyone to Christianity. I went home week after week feeling deflated and frustrated that these people couldn’t see the world as I could. Eventually, I stopped debating with atheists and others from outside of the Faith. Instead, I endeavoured to learn more deeply about my own, to grow in wisdom and knowledge so that I could know more about the God I claimed to worship, myself, and the world around me.
In 2014 I entered into the wonderful world of biblical studies. I knew right away that my experiences at bible college would profoundly affect me in ways I wouldn’t even anticipate. My academic and spiritual mentors, coupled with other influences like the Bible Project (and books I was reading and podcasts I was listening to), unravelled an entirely new world of thought and personal development that I thirsted for. It was scholars such as Tim Mackie, John Walton, Tremper Longman III, John H. Sailhamer, Walter Brueggemann, J. Richard Middleton and even classic giants like Augustine of Hippo made me realise that Genesis 1-2 wasn’t so cut and dry as I had once been taught. Some of these scholars were evolutionary creationists (or theistic evolutionists) and trusted in mainstream science. Organisations such as Biologos facilitated collaboration with these faithful biblical scholars and Christian evolutionary scientists. Needless to say, my world was turned upside-down. Slowly, reluctantly, but surely, I began to embrace that a faithful reading of Genesis 1-2 didn’t need to be at odds with anything mainstream science advocated for. All in all, I fell head over heels in love with Genesis and after much wrestling, reading and praying, I finally settled on two things. 1. Genesis 1-2 isn’t a scientific retelling of the material origins of the universe. Instead it’s a theological narrative that makes sense of the purpose and meaning of the world the author was in. 2. Eventually, and even somewhat unwittingly, I became convinced that evolution made the most sense of the scientific data.
It’s a little strange for some; I suppose to end a series on apologetics by seemingly advocating for evolution. To be clear, I’m not. Evolution may come and go, and I’m definitely not a scientist. My point in this is that there are good deconstruction stories out there. Just because someone takes a different position on these ideas doesn’t mean they’ve abandoned the Faith. Yes, some do. Too often, we hear stories of once faithful Christians rejecting the Faith and even ferociously attacking it. These stories break my heart. My experiences with deconstruction (and I’ve had a few) have only deepened my faith and love for God. I would eventually become committed to reconstruction rather than letting the doubts and questions destroy everything I loved and held dear. Deconstruction can be a friend to the Christian, not a scary foe. During your time with serious apologetics, many questions that might challenge your faith will come your way. So here are some of my suggestions around dealing with deconstruction.
Apologetics is about defending the Faith and giving good reasons why we believe what we believe. One cannot defend a Faith that they haven’t genuinely wrestled with themselves. For those of us who wrestle harder then others, it’s my prayer that your deconstruction would be fruitful and Spirit led.
A faith without some doubts is like a human body with no antibodies in it. People who blithely go through life too busy or indifferent to ask the hard questions about why they believe as they do will find themselves defenseless against either the experience of tragedy or the probing questions of a smart skeptic. A person’s faith can collapse almost overnight if she failed over the years to listen patiently to her own doubts, which should only be discarded after long reflection.
– Tim Keller
“The man here tells us a truth that is awful – we baptise ourselves with names that are far from the only truth about ourselves.”
― In the Shelter: Finding a Home in the World
One of life’s biggest question’s is who are we? What does it mean to be human? What is our purpose in life? What is the meaning to all of this? Essential questions, unfortunately, not quickly answered.
The Scriptures tell a story about us that starts on the first few pages of this ancient book. Humanity is made in God’s image (Genesis 1:26), from the dust of the ground, from the breath of God’s nostrils (Genesis 2:7), and from one another (Genesis 2:22). Humans were created to be like God and relate to Him by ruling over God’s creation. They were created with a connection to the earth as they were to cultivate and protect it (Genesis 2:15). Finally, they were created from one another as it is not good for anyone to be alone (Genesis 2:18). In Genesis 3, we became something less than human as we failed to be like God, and we allowed the serpent to rule over us. We became less than human as we failed to protect the Garden from evil. Then, we failed in our relationship with one another as we immediately turned to blame one another for our mistakes.
At the Fall, something happened to humanity where we lost our identity. We don’t know who we are anymore, we don’t really understand what we’re meant to be doing because of that loss of self. So in an attempt to recover our lost sense of self, we grab anything that seems to offer an answer to the big question “who are we?” A lot of us, at least in the West, have bought into the modern cultural meta-narratives of capitalism, scientism, gender equality, and probably dozens of ideas I can’t really think of right now. Why? Because even those these in and of themselves aren’t bad, these things help us make sense of who we are yet never really give us the complete picture. Each little story or philosophical idea makes us feel safe for just a fleeting moment. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter how much science discovers, whether we find peace in the Middle East or if climate change is solved tomorrow, we’d still end up feeling sense of restlessness and loss of who we’re truly meant to be.
The Bible tells us that because we’re incapable of being human ourselves, God has to send someone who can fix that problem for us. Jesus is the perfect human. He was truly human in that He was completely like God (Colossians 1:15) He ruled over the serpent and evil (Matthew 4:1-11). He loved God and others as Himself (Matthew 22:36-40), even His enemies (Matthew 5:44). So as we’re united to Christ by His Spirit, we start to recover a real sense of who we’re all meant to be (I’m thinking the beatitudes here as an example). It’s only in Jesus that we truly begin our journey on becoming truly human, which will culminate in glory.
A friend of mine once said the “Gospel” we preach today is the reason why so many people are at a loss with the Church. It’s the reason why so many of us are struggling with depression, anxiety, gender identity, and why once-famous Christians are walking away. Maybe. I think everyone believes that their “Gospel” is the right one. I think everyone thinks that if everyone just got their “Gospel” then the world would change and BAM! Jesus comes back and all is well with the world. The problem with thinking like that is that even in the midst of biblical Christianity, the Apostles had a lot of crap to deal with. Life didn’t get better for them, it got worse. They had hope in Jesus, but in their immediate set of circumstances, the Church was killed and ostracised for being a cult and for rebelling against the State (the Roman Empire). I’m now half a world away and two thousand years into the future. There might not be a Roman Empire per se, but mental health issues, social and educational persecution, the prosperity Gospel, liberalism and a swath of issues are on the front lines of the Church’s Western Front. Principalities and powers indeed.
Not only that but more than ever in the history of humanity information and in turn philosophical and scientific theories are spreading like wildfire. You can walk into one room full of ten people with vastly different perspectives and get ten different definitions on the meaning of life and how it should be lived. Even among Christians, I’ve rarely met any two people who could agree on what it even means to be Christian. We all say yes and amen at “love thy neighbour,” but what it actually means to do that looks completely different to whoever it is your talking to.
Personally, as I venture down the black hole that is theological and philosophical thought, I find myself, in my strive for wisdom, in a constant inner war between two primary concepts; meaninglessness and purpose (found in Christ). I find myself very much at home with the existentialist or even the authour of Ecclesiastes. There is a realness to life I think we all try to avoid. We all wear smiles as we attempt to turn that frown upside down. It’s socially awkward to admit that life sucks. “How are you?” “Yeah, good” or “not bad” is our autoresponse. Life slaps us in the face when a loved one dies or a tragedy befalls us. Suddenly it’s ok to cry, to mourn and to hurt… yet… every one of us does that every day. There’s a beautiful dread to life that we hate admitting exists. If it weren’t for the Gospel then where would I, or any of us be?
Here’s my point to all of this. Human, get good at talking about the pain and the hurt and the despair. These are real things forming (perhaps even unwittingly) an identity inside every one of us. They take root, they form us and they make us into who we are behind the masks we all wear. Then thrust the Gospel of life into their hearts. Peel back the layers of chaos and bring the shalom each one us truly aches for. Life is beautiful but it can be more in Jesus the Messiah.
“For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: You shall love your neighbour as yourself. Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. By this, all people will know that you are my disciples if you have love for one another” (Galatians 5:14; Romans 12:9, 15; John 13:35).
Then God said, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. And let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over the livestock and over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.”
So God created man in his own image,
in the image of God he created him;
male and female he created them. – Genesis 1:26-27
The Imago Dei or the image of God has been discussed at length for a long, long time. Throughout history, some have assumed that the image of God refers to intelligence and the ability to discern between moral choices. Others have thought it’s more about the soul or spirit of a human. I believe that the image is something functional (something we do) and ontological (something we have). Let’s explore.
One of the most distinguishing characteristics of Yahweh is that He wants to be known, and He wants to know His creation as well. This is somewhat bizarre because most gods in the ancient world weren’t really concerned with the affairs of humanity unless thought they could get something out of them. Yahweh, on the other hand, is entirely driven by love, order, shalom and holiness. So what does this mean for the Imago Dei?
In the ancient world, kings were known to be the earthly representatives of their god. In Egypt, for example, the pharaoh was thought to be the incarnation and representation of whatever major or popular god that was in at the time. Furthermore, these representative kings were to rule over their nation as though the god itself was ruling, thus displaying all of the god’s attributes and character. Other examples in the ancient world also show how the representatives of the gods also played a mediatory role; a sort of middle man between the god and the nation. In Genesis 1-2, there is a similar message. Humanity (both male and female) are created and endowed with something of the Creator God. They intrinsically possess the divine (ontology) as they were made to image or display their Creator to the rest of creation (function). According to the passage, humanity was to image Yahweh by “having dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over the livestock and over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth” (Genesis 1:26) and to work and keep the Garden of Eden (Genesis 2:15). What does this mean for us then?
In Genesis 3, classically entitled as the Fall, humanity meets a weird talking serpent (sin incarnate), they’re tempted, they take from the tree of knowledge of good and evil. They are then exiled from the Garden because they failed in their vocation to be keepers of Eden and to rule over creation. Instead of ruling over the serpent (sin), they are ruled by it. Instead of protecting Eden (Yahweh’s dwelling space), they let chaos and sin come in and take over. So when someone does terrible at their job, they’re fired. So were Adam and Eve.
Genesis 1-3 is unique. There are several ways one could interpret and understand the story. One way I think we should understand Genesis 1-3 is that it’s the story of all of humanity. God has tasked all of us (Christian or not) with a divinely appointed job to lovingly rule over creation, to work it and to keep it so that God can live among us. From before even the very beginning, God’s intention for His creation and humanity especially was that He would dwell and live in loving harmony with them. This is where the Imago Dei kicks in. Every single one of us has been created to reflect and show God’s very being by doing the above tasks. Reflecting or imaging is inescapable for us, it’s a part of our nature. Now, however, we image and reflect the other gods (idols) we worship, namely death and chaos. Reflect on this quote by one of my favourite scholars G. K. Beale:
“People will always reflect something, whether it be God’s character or some feature of the world. If people are committed to God, they will become like him; if they are committed to something other than God, they will become like that thing, always spiritually inanimate and empty like the lifeless and vain aspect of creation to which they have committed themselves.”
Now consider this passage from Psalm 115:4-8:
Their idols are silver and gold,
the work of human hands.
They have mouths, but do not speak;
eyes, but do not see.
They have ears, but do not hear;
noses, but do not smell.
They have hands, but do not feel;
feet, but do not walk;
and they do not make a sound in their throat.
Those who make them become like them;
so do all who trust in them.
If there’s one thing humanity loves more then themselves its flat out drama (chaos). We’re confusing little things. One the one hand we protest and petition for peace on earth, we desire to see the end of famine and disease, we boil and rage at corruption in government, and we weep and wail over death and genocide. Yet we send people into war (sometimes a necessary evil). We spend $50 on a shirt made in Taiwanese sweatshops. We hate sexual abuse and fight against rape culture, yet we watch porn and get excited over shows like Game of Thrones that perpetuate that culture. We “know” what’s wrong and what’s right, yet we’re in a constant struggle to live consistently. You could say that we “suppress the truth in our unrighteousness” (Rom 1:18). All the technology and scientific advancements in the world won’t give us what we need, a new heart, with new desires, and the ability to live consistently (Ezekiel 36:26). Once, that’s solved, then we can once again image and reflect God who is life and love rather than the gods of death and chaos. How do we obtain new hearts?
Great question. Ezekiel 36:26 (cf: Eze 11:19-20; 18:31; Ps 51:10; Jn 3:3; 2 Cor 3:3), is something God wants to do to everyone in Christ to restore the Imago Dei and have them return (to greater heights) to their intended role in the cosmos. Jesus lived, died and rose from the dead as a perfect human being, as our representative (Rom 5:12-14), so that by grace, through faith (Eph 2:8-9) we can be united to this new and perfect human (1 Cor 15:22) by the Holy Spirit (Jhn 3:5-6). When we’re united, we’re then washed clean and made pure (1 Cor 6:11) – we’re made genuinely human in the Messiah Jesus. Now we’re able to truly love, rule, reflect and keep as God created us to be.
Believe me, when I say this – It would be so easy to draw a “crowd.” I know what the right things to say are, the right doctrines and thoughts. I could be thoroughly orthodox in every way and no one would bat an eye and every blog I wrote would get likes, “amens” and maybe a few shares. I could completely immerse myself in a theological tribe and get pats on the back and a thumbs up from my kin all the while completely selling out on what is I really believe. If you want the easiest path to being liked by others in the Christian Faith let me tell you what to believe (on top of the obvious stuff about Jesus, the Trinity, Scripture and salvation which are non-negotiable):
Satire? Yes. I hope you get the point.
Trust me, being a theologian (though I’m not sure if I’d really consider myself as one) is lonely and tough work. You read and pray, and think and pray, and discuss and pray, and read some more. We’re in “ivory towers” not just because we choose to be there ourselves, but because sometimes we’re exiled to the ivory towers by the community of Christians we usually hang around. Usually, what ends up happening one way or another is that what you once thought you knew ends up changing or at least being convincingly challenged. This is extremely isolating because at least in my experience, you start believing and working through things that no one else likes and you become alienated even from people you were closest too. I make note of this issue in a blog I recently wrote but I’ll reiterate it here. Being a good theologian, even a good Christian is embracing “the wrong.” We should love it, look for it and welcome it like a dear friend. There is nothing more humbling and even exciting than realising something we’ve held to our entire lives wasn’t quite right and that there is an entirely new world of waiting for us to take hold of.
I guess my indictment is this. Let’s kill our theological golden calves before we “kill” one another. There are truths worth dying for – but there aren’t any worth killing for.
It’s not much of a secret, though I think we try to cover it up, life is often full of darkness, seemingly meaningless moments that amount to nothing. Life can often feel like banging your head against a wall never feeling anything, never going anywhere with purpose. I’m sorry about that. I am really am. I wish I could wrap you up, hold you and tell you everything is right, that life is only ever good and happy. The truth is, life is far from it. However, there is a glimpse of light in the darkness.
Our God wouldn’t be very good now would He unless he brought a bit of light into our world, a bit of hope into despair, a bit of electricity into our otherwise numb, meaningless existence. What am I talking about? Good News. You see, the Good News that is the entire storyline of the Bible is as deep and it is wide. Let me tell you something, once you take hold of it, once it seeps down into the depths on your very own soul it is like a single beam on light craking the dark sky on a rainy day. At first, it blinds us. Then, it excites us. Finally, it wakes us up and brings us new life.
There are some out there that would have us believe that the darkened sky is all there is, the head banging, the despair. Jesus, however, would have us believe something different. Like a desperate father that weeps and wails for the return of his children, so too does Jesus long for humanity to turn to Him, to set them free from the brokenness, sin, and despair that so easily ensnares them. If love is what we lack, then He has it. If it is peace, then He provides it. If it is brokeness then He wants to pick up the pieces.
Nothing though is without cost. First, Jesus gave up His life for yours so that there would be a way out of the dark broken despair (John 8:36). This is called the atonement. Second, this way out, in a nutshell, is called grace and while grace comes freely to anyone who wants it (Ephesians 2:8), it will cost you your life and your heart. Why? Because Jesus isn’t simply interested in making your life a little bit more tolerable, He wants to completely transform your from your innermost being all the way out. You’ll be a new person, with new desires, a new heart, spirit, mind (Ezekiel 36:26), and you’ll be connected to God in such a way you never could have been otherwise (Romans 6 and 8). This is hard but worth it because He will wipe every tear from your eye, heal every wound (Revelation 21:4), give life and give it abundantly (John 10:10).
Weird title hey? I was looking over the books of one of my favourite author’s Donald Miller and sort of meshed all the books I’ve read together. So enjoy that. Anyway, here are some random musings for the week. This is about really what I’m going through now in my walk with God. I hope this resonates with some of you. I’d love to hear from some of you 🙂
For me, my journey in the Faith started just before I turned twenty. God and Jesus were unfamiliar people, Christianity immediately seemed to be far too institutional, and the people in it weren’t any better then I was outside of the Faith. I hit the ground running, eager to be light years ahead theologically of anyone I knew and to change the world, the church, and the Faith for Jesus. Needless to say, I was vomiting zeal while injecting uninformed idealism into my veins. Furthermore, I was desperate to belong, On any given day I was inches away from being Reformed, charismatic, or some other tribe within the Christian-Protestant tradition (I think I was almost Catholic or Orthodox at one point). I read copious amounts of books on prayer, the Bible, revival, church, theology, and the classics from Spurgeon, Murray, Torrey, Finney. I went to a bible college where, like a sponge, I soaked up a theological education that placed me, so I thought, on top of the “Christian ladder.” I would even hit the streets where I would share the Gospel with anyone who’d walk by, desperate to pluck a soul from the fiery furnace of Hell that I believed any and all were destined to go without the forgiveness of sins. I was, as they say, a machine. It wasn’t until I started walking with a mentor and close friend of mine that I started to realise I was doing a lot but something really lacked in my relationship with God. The intimacy was missing that I think every Christian from time to time mulls over and wonders if God is even there. All of a sudden I started searching for God instead of doing a bunch of things, and it scared me. Suddenly my grounding wasn’t in my actions, my reading list or my theological education but I desperately was trying to find grounding in God Himself and in doing so, I hoped to find out who I truly was. This journey has been as strange, bewildering, lonely and hopeless as wandering through a million miles of dry blue desert (and it’s still going).
What am I even talking about? I’m not sure I know. What I do know is this. God is more than books and theology. God is more than the sermons and lectures, works and good things that I do. I’m reminded of a quote by Donald Miller where he says:
“There is something beautiful about a billion stars held steady by a God who knows what He is doing. (They hang there, the stars, like notes on a page of music, free-form verse, silent mysteries swirling in the blue like jazz.) And as I lay there, it occurred to me that God is up there somewhere. Of course, I had always known He was, but this time I felt it, I realized it, the way a person realizes they are hungry or thirsty. The knowledge of God seeped out of my brain and into my heart. I imagined Him looking down on this earth, half angry because His beloved mankind had cheated on Him, had committed adultery, and yet hopelessly in love with her, drunk with love for her.”
I read that and let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding on to for maybe the last seven years. I need the knowledge of God to seep out of my brain and into my heart. I want to feel God as much as I read about God. I want to actually talk to Him, hear Him and feel His Spirit working in and through me. If the Christian life is only listening, reading, doing and never experiencing, I’m not sure that I want it.