Tuesday, March 31, 2009
No taste for new wine
At the end of Luke 5 Jesus speaks of the conflict between the Old and New Covenants. In verse 39 He indicates the hindrance this conflict would be for Israel, saying (my translation) ''No one drinking old wine will desire new because he says, 'The old is good.''' The grave danger of being trapped in faulty religion is that the adherent is satiated by it and can fail to see his need for more--real union with Christ. It was easier for those, like tax-collectors and sinners, who had never sought to uphold the law to trust in Christ because they recognized their need. Scribes and Pharisees already felt a (false) sense of satisfaction.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
An almost boast
As the apostle Paul has made clear, no one will boast before the Lord. Yet some people become a part of the Lord's activity in ways that give them a story that may almost be envied. Two that I read about today are Simon the Cyrene and Joseph of Arimathea. Think about Simon: here's a guy just caught up in the happenings of the day, returning from the market, and chosen from the crowd to carry Jesus' cross. I imagine this was against his will, for who wants to be on the sharp end of a Roman crucifixion process? Why was he chosen? Did Romans have racial animosities toward blacks (as Cyrenes would have been)? Was it because of his size (I assume this was a physically demanding charge)? Or was he simply in the right place at the right time? When Mark wrote his gospel, Simon was known to the readers, as demonstrated by his description as ''the father of Alexander and Rufus.'' This makes me think that this event had such an impact upon him that it resulted in his eventual conversion. And what a story that would be: ''I carried Jesus' cross! I was chosen by God to serve my Lord in his hour of greatest need.'' Or would this humble me beyond measure? Such an honor and others more worthy...I didn't even believe at the time, didn't know what I was doing...now I would count it an honor, then it was an inconvenience...I'll never boast before the Lord.
Think also of Joseph of Arimathea: He identified with Jesus even after the apostles had fled, risking reprisal from the council of which he was a leader. He honored the man, Jesus, with a significant contribution, for a hand-hewn cave is no meager gift, and this upon his death, when no credit was likely forthcoming--a sincere effort. What a story that would be: ''I laid Jesus in the tomb! I stood for him at his hour of need.'' I wonder if I'd feel honored to use the tomb after my own demise, like Spurgeon delighting to sit in the chair of John Gill upon his first visit to New Park Street Church. Or would this humble me beyond measure, knowing myself to be unworthy of occupying a space that had once housed the Savior of the world? Would I feel ashamed when I recounted the story...I refused to follow Jesus openly when I had the chance...I honored the memory of a dead man and thought it was the end...I believed him to be no more than a misunderstood man of God...I'll never boast before the Lord.
Praise the Lord for his mercy! The best we can do is an almost boast.
Think also of Joseph of Arimathea: He identified with Jesus even after the apostles had fled, risking reprisal from the council of which he was a leader. He honored the man, Jesus, with a significant contribution, for a hand-hewn cave is no meager gift, and this upon his death, when no credit was likely forthcoming--a sincere effort. What a story that would be: ''I laid Jesus in the tomb! I stood for him at his hour of need.'' I wonder if I'd feel honored to use the tomb after my own demise, like Spurgeon delighting to sit in the chair of John Gill upon his first visit to New Park Street Church. Or would this humble me beyond measure, knowing myself to be unworthy of occupying a space that had once housed the Savior of the world? Would I feel ashamed when I recounted the story...I refused to follow Jesus openly when I had the chance...I honored the memory of a dead man and thought it was the end...I believed him to be no more than a misunderstood man of God...I'll never boast before the Lord.
Praise the Lord for his mercy! The best we can do is an almost boast.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Rejoicing In Real Life
''You are to rejoice before the Lord your God in everything you put your hand to'' (Deuteronomy 12:18). What a description of worship! The Israelites were being instructed about their need bring the firstfruits of their harvest and of their flocks to the Lord in his temple. At the heart of this act of worship was this beautiful purpose. They were rejoicing before the Lord over the labors of life--farming and herding.
Too often we view our labors as necessary burdens to carry out in the cause of survival. The Lord would have us look at them as gifts from him--ways to enjoy Him, opportunities to fulfill our calling in the world. When we gather before him we should be gladdened by the opportunity to present to him some of the blessing which he has bestowed upon us. We should be giving thanks for the things which we have put our hands to, and for how he has caused us to prosper in it. When Adam was created the first thing God did for him was give him something to ''put (his) hand to.'' This is a gift apart from its rewards, and to offer the Lord some of the rewards in return is our opportunity to express our joy and gratitude for the gift.
How would our lives be different if we saw our labors, our projects, and our activities--both work and play--as chances to enjoy the Lord? How would church worship be different if we brought to the assembly an enjoyment of life and open expressions of gratitude for it?
Too often we view our labors as necessary burdens to carry out in the cause of survival. The Lord would have us look at them as gifts from him--ways to enjoy Him, opportunities to fulfill our calling in the world. When we gather before him we should be gladdened by the opportunity to present to him some of the blessing which he has bestowed upon us. We should be giving thanks for the things which we have put our hands to, and for how he has caused us to prosper in it. When Adam was created the first thing God did for him was give him something to ''put (his) hand to.'' This is a gift apart from its rewards, and to offer the Lord some of the rewards in return is our opportunity to express our joy and gratitude for the gift.
How would our lives be different if we saw our labors, our projects, and our activities--both work and play--as chances to enjoy the Lord? How would church worship be different if we brought to the assembly an enjoyment of life and open expressions of gratitude for it?
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Grace
Blaise Pascal: "To make a man a saint, grace is absolutely necessary, and whoever doubts it does not know what a saint is or what a man is."
Think about the condition of either one before the Lord, and you'll soon understand the need for God's grace.
Think about the condition of either one before the Lord, and you'll soon understand the need for God's grace.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Laying On of Hands
Reading through Numbers 8 I gained a little insight into the practice of laying hands on an individual when commissioning him to a ministry. In that passage the Levites are being set apart to God for service in His temple.
Already in chapter 3 the Levites had been chosen in exchange for the firstborn of the Israelites. The cost (to the Lord) of Israel's freedom from bondage had been the death of all the firstborn in Egypt, and since those Egyptians were created by God and therefore just as valuable and precious to God as his chosen people, Israel was required, in effect, to repay the Lord by devoting to him all their own firstborn. Firstborn animals could be redeemed with cash, but firstborn sons could be redeemed only by means of a substitute. So, rather than inflict profound family and cultural disruption upon the people, and to facilitate a more efficient priestly ministry, the Lord chose one tribe from among the Jews, the tribe of Levi, in substitution for the firstborn of the rest of the nation.
Returning now to chapter 8, we find the Levites being set apart for the temple/tabernacle ministry and in the process the people, not the priests, are told to lay their hands upon them. They were, in effect, commissioning the Levites to function in that ministry as their substitutes. Likewise had the people done to their sin offerings and likewise had they done to the scapegoat. These all functioned as substitutes for the people.
Likewise do we do today when we ordain a man to local church ministry or when we send an individual out to proclaim the gospel among the lost. We recognize that it is not possible for all Christians to to head to the distant lands, nor are we all chosen by God for particular ministries. So we appoint substitutes to serve on our behalf. This is why it is so important to appoint good substitutes and why Paul warns, in 1 Timothy 5:22, not to be hasty in the laying on of hands. Whomever you appoint is your representative, and if they are sinful, lazy, or self-seeking you share in that sin.
This has given me a new approach as a pastor/elder. From now on, when it comes to commissioning an individual to ministry I am going to have the congregation lay their hands on him. I believe this will better convey the meaning of the appointment and I hope that it will cause all involved to consider more seriously the standards and expectations they apply to those they ordain.
Already in chapter 3 the Levites had been chosen in exchange for the firstborn of the Israelites. The cost (to the Lord) of Israel's freedom from bondage had been the death of all the firstborn in Egypt, and since those Egyptians were created by God and therefore just as valuable and precious to God as his chosen people, Israel was required, in effect, to repay the Lord by devoting to him all their own firstborn. Firstborn animals could be redeemed with cash, but firstborn sons could be redeemed only by means of a substitute. So, rather than inflict profound family and cultural disruption upon the people, and to facilitate a more efficient priestly ministry, the Lord chose one tribe from among the Jews, the tribe of Levi, in substitution for the firstborn of the rest of the nation.
Returning now to chapter 8, we find the Levites being set apart for the temple/tabernacle ministry and in the process the people, not the priests, are told to lay their hands upon them. They were, in effect, commissioning the Levites to function in that ministry as their substitutes. Likewise had the people done to their sin offerings and likewise had they done to the scapegoat. These all functioned as substitutes for the people.
Likewise do we do today when we ordain a man to local church ministry or when we send an individual out to proclaim the gospel among the lost. We recognize that it is not possible for all Christians to to head to the distant lands, nor are we all chosen by God for particular ministries. So we appoint substitutes to serve on our behalf. This is why it is so important to appoint good substitutes and why Paul warns, in 1 Timothy 5:22, not to be hasty in the laying on of hands. Whomever you appoint is your representative, and if they are sinful, lazy, or self-seeking you share in that sin.
This has given me a new approach as a pastor/elder. From now on, when it comes to commissioning an individual to ministry I am going to have the congregation lay their hands on him. I believe this will better convey the meaning of the appointment and I hope that it will cause all involved to consider more seriously the standards and expectations they apply to those they ordain.
Monday, February 23, 2009
The folly of blessing others
''When we are cursed, we bless; when we are persecuted, we endure it; when we are slandered, we answer kindly...'' These are the words of the apostle Paul describing an apostle's response to mistreatment (1Cor 4:12). The mistreatment to which he refers is not only what he received from the godless people of the world but also what he was receiving from some who called themselves ''brothers.'' Why did he respond in this way? The Corinthians, to whom Paul was writing, sought personal glory and the glory they sought evaluated Paul's responses as weakness and folly unbecoming of a true leader. But this was a temporary glory, good only for the duration of a man's life. Paul, however, sought eternal glory. So, he exalted in such weakness and folly, and in suffering for Christ, and in the opportunity to imitate Christ in them because these are the qualities God will honor. These were the qualities displayed in Jesus.
This has been one of the more convicting passages I have studied lately. I, like a Corinthian, accept the standard of this age and resist being thought a fool. Yet, as I realized, there has never been a marital conflict where it does not apply; there's never been a work environment where a Christian can't put this into practice; there's never been a mistreatment toward which the believer can't embrace this foolish way of living. And there's no promise that doing so will improve the situation. This is simply our calling, just as suffering for Christ is our calling, and as Paul recognized our reward comes later. Sometimes it helps in the here and now, but mostly those who live like this will be called fools. Glory in it! Jesus did.
This has been one of the more convicting passages I have studied lately. I, like a Corinthian, accept the standard of this age and resist being thought a fool. Yet, as I realized, there has never been a marital conflict where it does not apply; there's never been a work environment where a Christian can't put this into practice; there's never been a mistreatment toward which the believer can't embrace this foolish way of living. And there's no promise that doing so will improve the situation. This is simply our calling, just as suffering for Christ is our calling, and as Paul recognized our reward comes later. Sometimes it helps in the here and now, but mostly those who live like this will be called fools. Glory in it! Jesus did.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
The Necessity of Divided Powers
Unchallenged power among sinful human beings allows for the worst expressions of tyranny and rebellion. As the old adage says, ''Absolute power corrupts absolutely.'' Sitting on the Mount of Olives, in Matthew 24, Jesus spoke of events leading up to the last days of human civilization. He said, ''You will hear wars and reports of wars; watch out, don't be alarmed. For it is necessary (ought, is proper) to be, but it is not yet the end'' (my translation). Though not the point of the passage, our Lord sees conflict between competing states as a necessary check, presumably upon tyranny, oppression, and rebellion against God.
The Lord's insistence upon divided powers stretches all the way back to the plains of Shinar, when the people assembled to become a single governed entity. Genesis 11 tells the story: ''Now the whole world had one language and a common speech...They said, 'Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves and not be scattered over the face of the whole earth.'''
The Lord's reaction to this was not favorable. The attempt to reach God by their own efforts, combined with their refusal to spread throughout the earth as God had prescribed, was setting the stage for a humanly-unopposable, rebellious rule that would bode ill for people. As the Lord expressed it, ''If as one people speaking the same language they have begun to do this, then nothing they plan will be impossible for them. Come, let us go down and confuse their langguage so that they will not understand each other.'' In response, God established multiple, competing people groups, the corrolary of which--warfare between them--Jesus calls necessary for the preservation of human civilization. How predictable, then, that in the last days men will fall under the authority of a single, totalitarian rule.
The threat of overthrow from outside forces compels a ruler to maintain the allegiance of his people by assuring them that his continued rule is in their best interest. When that breaks down, so does a nation; when the nation breaks down, she becomes vulnerable. The founding fathers of our great nation recognized the value that such a threat poses, as explained in the Declaration of Independence. The tyranny of the ruler, not maintaining the best interests of the governed, made him vulnerable to (and deserving of) opposition, and so the United States were formed. In this same spirit they established the Second Ammendment, ensuring not only the security of the citizens from outside forces but also preserving an internal threat should the leaders insist upon governing for their own benefit. It was this worldview that also ordered our government around the separation of powers, a 'non-violent' check upon the 'tyranny' of its constituent parts.
War is not an ultimate and unqualified evil, much to the contrary of many modern liberal sensibilities. In fact, when Jesus returns it will be to make war against his enemies. I, for one, would never call one of his actions evil. Much evil may happen in war, and certainly evil on the part of at least one party makes it necessary. But without this consequence of divided powers, we'd all be far less free, and our suffering would be far greater.
The Lord's insistence upon divided powers stretches all the way back to the plains of Shinar, when the people assembled to become a single governed entity. Genesis 11 tells the story: ''Now the whole world had one language and a common speech...They said, 'Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves and not be scattered over the face of the whole earth.'''
The Lord's reaction to this was not favorable. The attempt to reach God by their own efforts, combined with their refusal to spread throughout the earth as God had prescribed, was setting the stage for a humanly-unopposable, rebellious rule that would bode ill for people. As the Lord expressed it, ''If as one people speaking the same language they have begun to do this, then nothing they plan will be impossible for them. Come, let us go down and confuse their langguage so that they will not understand each other.'' In response, God established multiple, competing people groups, the corrolary of which--warfare between them--Jesus calls necessary for the preservation of human civilization. How predictable, then, that in the last days men will fall under the authority of a single, totalitarian rule.
The threat of overthrow from outside forces compels a ruler to maintain the allegiance of his people by assuring them that his continued rule is in their best interest. When that breaks down, so does a nation; when the nation breaks down, she becomes vulnerable. The founding fathers of our great nation recognized the value that such a threat poses, as explained in the Declaration of Independence. The tyranny of the ruler, not maintaining the best interests of the governed, made him vulnerable to (and deserving of) opposition, and so the United States were formed. In this same spirit they established the Second Ammendment, ensuring not only the security of the citizens from outside forces but also preserving an internal threat should the leaders insist upon governing for their own benefit. It was this worldview that also ordered our government around the separation of powers, a 'non-violent' check upon the 'tyranny' of its constituent parts.
War is not an ultimate and unqualified evil, much to the contrary of many modern liberal sensibilities. In fact, when Jesus returns it will be to make war against his enemies. I, for one, would never call one of his actions evil. Much evil may happen in war, and certainly evil on the part of at least one party makes it necessary. But without this consequence of divided powers, we'd all be far less free, and our suffering would be far greater.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Only a fool can die to himself
The cost of following Christ is often beyond the limits that my pride will accept. Let's face it...even if the world doesn't like me, I want them to respect me. I want them to think of me as articulate and intelligent even if they don't like what I have to say. The apostle Paul refutes that possibility when it comes to sincere Christian living. He says, in 1 Corinthians 1:18, ''The message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing,'' which means that when we proclaim that message and live accordingly, we will not be thought wise and learned; we'll be thought of as morons.
It's not that the gospel message is truly foolish. Rather, there is a conflict between genuine, godly wisdom and that which those who are perishing are willing to acknowledge. ''For the wisdom of this world is foolishness in God's sight;'' but to live a genuine Christian life means to embrace a message that the world calls idiotic--and by default makes the one who does an idiot.
This is a disconcerting thought for those who want to be highly regarded. Yet, it is consistent with everything else the Lord has taught us. He told us that we should not be surprised if the world hates us, because it hated him first (John 15:18). He also told us that if anyone wants to follow him, ''he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow'' Jesus (Matthew 16:24). That means dying to oneself. It means sacrificing the status one holds dear and accepting a label that is not so becoming--fool--if so doing is the result of faithful believing, living, and conveying of the message of the cross. More often than not, it will be, because that message is foolishness to those who are perishing.
This is a high cost, but the cost of refusing is even greater. ''Whoever wants to save his life,'' Jesus warned after calling us to take up our crosses, ''will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.'' Are you willing to take up a mantle that means laying down the rags of worldly regard? Are you willing to lose your life to find it? My pride often recoils at the costs of following Jesus. But, as Paul urges in 1 Corinthians 3, ''If anyone of you thinks he is wise by the standards of this age, he should become a fool so that he may become wise.''
It's not that the gospel message is truly foolish. Rather, there is a conflict between genuine, godly wisdom and that which those who are perishing are willing to acknowledge. ''For the wisdom of this world is foolishness in God's sight;'' but to live a genuine Christian life means to embrace a message that the world calls idiotic--and by default makes the one who does an idiot.
This is a disconcerting thought for those who want to be highly regarded. Yet, it is consistent with everything else the Lord has taught us. He told us that we should not be surprised if the world hates us, because it hated him first (John 15:18). He also told us that if anyone wants to follow him, ''he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow'' Jesus (Matthew 16:24). That means dying to oneself. It means sacrificing the status one holds dear and accepting a label that is not so becoming--fool--if so doing is the result of faithful believing, living, and conveying of the message of the cross. More often than not, it will be, because that message is foolishness to those who are perishing.
This is a high cost, but the cost of refusing is even greater. ''Whoever wants to save his life,'' Jesus warned after calling us to take up our crosses, ''will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.'' Are you willing to take up a mantle that means laying down the rags of worldly regard? Are you willing to lose your life to find it? My pride often recoils at the costs of following Jesus. But, as Paul urges in 1 Corinthians 3, ''If anyone of you thinks he is wise by the standards of this age, he should become a fool so that he may become wise.''
Monday, January 5, 2009
May Christ Be Your Tailor
This quote is taken from Vally of Vision: A Collection of Puritan Prayers and Devotions:
O God of Grace,
Thou hast imputed my sin to my substitute,
and hast imputed his righteousness to my soul,
clothing me with a bridegrooms robe,
decking me with jewels of holiness.
but in my Christian walk I am still in rags...
I am always standing clothed in filthy garments,
and by grace am always receiving change of raiment,
for thou dost always justify the ungodly.
I am always going into the far country,
and always returning home as a prodigal,
always saying, "Father, forgive me,"
and thou art always bringing forth the best robe.
Every morning let me wear it,
every evening return in it,
go out to the days work in it,
be married in it,
be wound in death in it,
stand before the great white throne in it,
enter heaven in it shining as the sun.
I am often reminded, by my own doing, of the very real rags of sin with which I clothe myself. It is the outfit everyone sees. At times I'm able to patch it up enough that no one notices my outfit but me. But my outfit embarrasses me and, if I let it, categorizes me.
However, this is not the outfit God sees. While He is neither blind, nor foolish, nor ignorant, He has chosen to give a new look to all who trust in Christ as their substitute. He gives us the shirt off Christ's back, so to speak. We get Jesus' clothes. We are clothed in the righteousness of Christ. This is the outfit God sees. Christ is our tailor and, in him, we look good.
Consider these words from Hebrews 2:11, "Both the one who makes men holy and those who are made holy are of the same family. So Jesus is not ashamed to call them brothers." That is what Jesus has done, and continues to do in us. He makes us holy, not by giving us a new list of activities to follow, but by cleansing us of the guilt and stain of sin and then clothing us in his righteousness. So, while we may be embarrassed by the clothing with which we dress ourselves, he is not ashamed to call us brothers because, as members of the same family, we share the same status. We wear the same clothes.
The apostle John understood the significance of this. In Revelation 7:9-14 he saw Jesus' brothers the way God sees them. He writes, "After this I looked and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count...standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb. They were wearing white robes...' Then one of the elders asked me, 'These in white robes-- who are they, and where did they come from?' I answered, 'Sir, you know.' And he said, 'These are they who have come out of the great tribulation; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. Therefore...he who sits on the throne will spread his tent over them.'" Jesus made them holy. His blood, not our blood (or sweat, or labor, or niceness) cleansed us from sin. So God is not ashamed to call us His children.
Next time you're ashamed of the rags of sin with which you clothe yourself, confess the truth of it but don't stop there. Let Jesus be your tailor; learn to see the clothes with which he has clothed you.
O God of Grace,
Thou hast imputed my sin to my substitute,
and hast imputed his righteousness to my soul,
clothing me with a bridegrooms robe,
decking me with jewels of holiness.
but in my Christian walk I am still in rags...
I am always standing clothed in filthy garments,
and by grace am always receiving change of raiment,
for thou dost always justify the ungodly.
I am always going into the far country,
and always returning home as a prodigal,
always saying, "Father, forgive me,"
and thou art always bringing forth the best robe.
Every morning let me wear it,
every evening return in it,
go out to the days work in it,
be married in it,
be wound in death in it,
stand before the great white throne in it,
enter heaven in it shining as the sun.
I am often reminded, by my own doing, of the very real rags of sin with which I clothe myself. It is the outfit everyone sees. At times I'm able to patch it up enough that no one notices my outfit but me. But my outfit embarrasses me and, if I let it, categorizes me.
However, this is not the outfit God sees. While He is neither blind, nor foolish, nor ignorant, He has chosen to give a new look to all who trust in Christ as their substitute. He gives us the shirt off Christ's back, so to speak. We get Jesus' clothes. We are clothed in the righteousness of Christ. This is the outfit God sees. Christ is our tailor and, in him, we look good.
Consider these words from Hebrews 2:11, "Both the one who makes men holy and those who are made holy are of the same family. So Jesus is not ashamed to call them brothers." That is what Jesus has done, and continues to do in us. He makes us holy, not by giving us a new list of activities to follow, but by cleansing us of the guilt and stain of sin and then clothing us in his righteousness. So, while we may be embarrassed by the clothing with which we dress ourselves, he is not ashamed to call us brothers because, as members of the same family, we share the same status. We wear the same clothes.
The apostle John understood the significance of this. In Revelation 7:9-14 he saw Jesus' brothers the way God sees them. He writes, "After this I looked and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count...standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb. They were wearing white robes...' Then one of the elders asked me, 'These in white robes-- who are they, and where did they come from?' I answered, 'Sir, you know.' And he said, 'These are they who have come out of the great tribulation; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. Therefore...he who sits on the throne will spread his tent over them.'" Jesus made them holy. His blood, not our blood (or sweat, or labor, or niceness) cleansed us from sin. So God is not ashamed to call us His children.
Next time you're ashamed of the rags of sin with which you clothe yourself, confess the truth of it but don't stop there. Let Jesus be your tailor; learn to see the clothes with which he has clothed you.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Chesterton on democracy
Certain other blogging concerns have occupied my thoughts over the past year (see: danielsfamilyupdate.blogspot.com), so I have given no thought to this site. Now, however, with the advent of my own Twitter account, and corresponding frustrations with its limitations, I've determined to renew my interest here so as to link longer quotes and comments. I'll start with a bang--G.K. Chesterton.
Though I don't believe that democracy is essential for a thriving Christianity, I do believe that a thriving Christianity will, in this world, compel a vibrant democracy. In a chapter from his book, Orthodoxy, entitled, The Ethics of Elfland, Chesterton reveals some of his own thoughts on democracy that I feel bear some reflection.
Though I don't believe that democracy is essential for a thriving Christianity, I do believe that a thriving Christianity will, in this world, compel a vibrant democracy. In a chapter from his book, Orthodoxy, entitled, The Ethics of Elfland, Chesterton reveals some of his own thoughts on democracy that I feel bear some reflection.
The principle of democracy as I mean it can be stated in two propositions. The first is this: that the things common to all men are more important than the things peculiar to any men. Ordinary things are more valuable than extraordinary; nay, they are more extraordinary...And the second principle is merely this: that the political instinct or desire is one of these things which they hold in common...In short, the democratic faith is this: that the most terribly important things must be left to ordinary men themselves--the mating of the sexes, the rearing of the young, the laws of the state. This is democracy; and in this I have always believed.Of course, this is a snipet of a rather lengthier comment (pp. 46-47 for those who are interested) but it draws to our attention several things. First, democracy places union and unity above diversity and multiculturalism. Lately, our country has pursued a course in contradiction to this, and I believe has been undermining our system in the process. Second, the opinion and the ballot of the common man is of greater value and merit than any amount of expert control. This is among several reasons why Christianity produces citizens who are, at their core, proponents of limited government--of, by, and for the people.
Monday, September 17, 2007
The Nobility of Being a Man
In 1990, Robert Bly fueled the fledgling Mythopoetic Men's Movement with the release of his groundbreaking and controversial book, Iron John: A Book About Men. The movement, also known as the "Iron John" movement, is a response to the perceived feminization of Western culture, wherein masculine traits have come to be regarded as negative and destructive, and males (both boys and men) are encouraged instead to embrace and express their more sensitive, less aggressive "feminine side." Many contend that this has created a disaffection among males because they lack a sense of purpose in the world and are unable to relate as they are being told. The solution to this disaffection, according to Bly, is to be found in affirming men in their masculinity and in helping them to live as their masculine nature compels them. The Iron John movement is not, however, just an angry male uprising. It is an attempt to positively and constructively help men, through mentoring, activity, and rites of passage to understand and embrace their masculine potential.
Bly's work is an analysis of the tale, Iron John, by the Brother's Grimm. He finds in it an analogy (or perhaps a commentary) on a boy's development into manhood. In this tale a violent wild man by the name of Iron John is captured and caged at the King's palace and subsequently bribes a young prince into releasing him. In order to do this, the prince steals--from under the queen's pillow--the key that unlocks the cage. Having done so, the lad fears punishment, so he runs off with Iron John into the forest.
In the forest, Iron John assigns the prince the task of protecting a well that turns all that enters it into gold. Ultimately, the young prince fails at his task, so the wild man sends him from the forest to labor in hardship and poverty. Yet, because the prince's failure was driven neither by greed nor malice, Iron John promises that in the event of great need, all the prince has to do is come to the edge of the forest and call out "Iron John!" three times and the wild man would supply him with all the resources the young man could need. This the prince does on two occasions--once when the city to which he traveled is being attacked (and the prince leads an army to victory), and once when he seeks to win the heart of a princess (and succeeds). At his wedding, the hard-laboring prince is reunited with his royal parents and with Iron John, who enters as a majestic king and reveals his own royal identity, long hidden by an enchantment which had made him a savage.
In Iron John, Bly argues for the need for male mentors, contending that the lack of them in modern society has led to mentally and emotionally underdeveloped men. Iron John is an appropriate mentor because he possesses both the innate wildness of every man and the potential nobility and virulence these supply when harnessed and focused. Bly also insists upon the need for meaningful "rites of passage," analogized through the releasing of Iron John, the prince's assignment of a task, his expulsion from the forest, his entry into battle, and his winning of the princess. It is suggested that the prince's theft of the key is his breaking away from a mother-figure to be mentored by a man (a necessary step toward masculine independence) and that the young man's labors in hardship are his acceptance of the responsibility that is required for true masculine maturity. In all, Bly advocates a stronger, wilder, and more dangerous vision of masculinity, and reaps the derision of many feminist and pro-feminist critics.
I am in many ways sympathetic to the concerns of the Mythopoetic Men's Movement, and yet I am bothered by some of its unintended consequences, and it is to both of these that I want to direct a few comments.
First, I believe that Bly is correct about men's natural attributes--their "masculine tendencies"--and a strong Scriptural case can be made for this. From the beginning we read that God created mankind "male and female." They were obviously different from one another and on more than just a physical level. The man was oriented toward his task, the assignment given to him when he was created, and the woman was oriented toward the man, having been brought to him and for him at her creation. When God said the man needed "a helper suitable for him," it implies that the helper--a female--would have strengths where the man was lacking. When they fell into sin, the curse affected the orientations of each. For her, the curse affected her at the level of child-bearing and relationship with the man. For him, the curse affected his mission. The author takes great care to clarify that both beings were created in the image of God, that together they fulfilled the meaning of that term, and that each was distinct in qualities and focus from the other--one was male and one was female.
Based upon this created distinction, the apostle Paul insists upon an essential equality and functional diversity of man and woman. Men are to lead in the home and women are to submit to their husbands, having been created "for the man." Men are to exercise authority in the church; women must not exercise a similar authority over men. Peter calls women "the weaker partner." I would argue this refers to her position, which in all of Scripture obligates the stronger (male) to demonstrate special consideration and honor to the weaker (female). She must grow in inner beauty, he must grow in outer courage and spiritual leadership. Failure to honor their distinctions will undermine the callings and spiritual progress of both sexes.
Apart from the Scripture, observation of tendencies within genders is unmistakable and well-documented. Little girls talk, little boys make truck sounds. Little girls play house with their dolls, little boys use them to fight bad guys and win wars. Women prefer love stories, men prefer action movies. Women want to express feelings, men want to fix problems. Many more generalities can be made and, without question, will fail to apply to all members of a gender, but the tendencies are regular enough to garner broad support among psychologists and humorists alike.
I believe there is much to be wary of in a culture that has become increasingly preferential to feminine tendencies. When a man finds inability or lack of desire to express himself in the culturally prescribed manner, we should expect a level of disaffection. This disaffection poses at least two dangers to our society. One is that men will fail to rise to their masculine potential. Being wired to performance and action they will find their efforts frowned upon and devalued, and there will be little encouragement to excel. There will also a lack of contexts in which his masculine potential is fostered in a way with which he identifies. This means that men will fail to perform as intended by God, according to their created nature. It also will compel women to fill the vacancy, hindering their best performance as intended by God. Each gender bears the image of God, but only expresses that image successfully when it does so according to created intent.
Another societal harm is that the man's masculinity will, of nature and necessity, be expressed, but having had no guidance and direction for constructive outlets, he will express his "wild side" in destructive ways--like Iron John before his imprisonment. Thus, I believe it is imperative for us to understand, embrace, harness, and mentor men in their masculinity to help them achieve their potential. Looking at youth, and especially urban youth, culture it is not difficult to identify a faulty, savage masculinity pervading its ethos. Men are over-sexualized, seeking women only for self-gratification and in some cases as a bread-winner. Music and prisons attest to a violence that is both gratuitous and aimless. The noble side of Iron John is not to be found and, likely as Bly suggests, the consequence of an absence of noble male mentors.
There is a nobility to being a man that we must recover, recognizing his distinction from the women with whom he interacts and the tendencies and orientation that are his by God's design, but recognizing also the potential savage within man when his masculinity is not fostered and guided.
With that said, there are dangers in the wholesale imbibing of the Mythopoetic Men's Movement that has taken place in some of the Christian world. The current interest in men's ministry did not originate with the churches. It started among secularists like Bly and his colleagues. The admittedly narrow historical overview given above serves as a warning against an unfiltered application of its convictions to a Christian pursuit of masculinity. In particular, the focus of the modern men's movement is toward a fictionalized warrior/superhero image of masculinity. Thus it pushes men into an unrealistic model of manhood rather than helping men to come to grips with the greatness and value of the tasks they've already been given--and which occupy most of their lives.
In his book, Waking the Dead, John Eldridge achieves a moment of personal enlightenment when he confesses to God his desire to be "God's Aragorn." Yes, Aragorn is a cool character in a fictional novel, but even if he was real, he was called to a particular mission at a point of necessity and most of Eldridge's readers are going to work from 9 to 5 (I have my suspicions that most of his readers are actually at home watching Oprah). This image of the warrior male, while bearing some illustrative value regarding courage, integrity, and a commitment to causes greater than the individual, is not where most men are. Nor is it where most men have been called to be. To set up this ideal before the hearts and minds of men, while perhaps motivational, is destined to disappoint them. Why? Because few have the opportunity to fulfill such a mission. If that existential experience is to define manhood, most will fail to attain it. However, if the image we set before men comes from Scripture rather than mythology, the potential for success becomes real and attainable.
Many men fail to see the reality and the significance of the mission that lies before them. Colossians 3 offers an instructive comment in this respect. "Slaves, obey your earthly masters in everything; and do it, not only when their eye is on you and to win their favor, but with sincerity of heart and reverence for the Lord. Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving." What could be more noble than that! You, man, are serving the Lord Christ at work. The slaves Paul refers to have not been denied their opportunity to become real men. Rather, they have been given a context in which to express their masculinity through the faithful exercise of their calling.
Going to work is an act of nobility. Nurturing one's children or grandchildren in the faith is an act of nobility (Eph. 6:4). Enabling one's wife in her spiritual progress is an act of nobility (Eph 5:25-27). Providing for your family is an act of nobility (1Tim 5:8). Mowing the lawn, building a deck, balancing a check book, wrestling with your boys or reading with your girls, going fishing or hunting, etc., these are acts of nobility that are part of most men's worlds. They are each a part of the mission we've been given in Scripture: to create, to work, to provide, to sustain the garden and multiply fruitfully. Our problem is not that we don't aim toward greater images. It's that we've lost connection with the divine design and calling of our lives. I don't need to be Aragorn. I need to be Tim--and be him well.
A Christian men's movement needs to recapture the grand vision of life, family, and work that exists for them. It needs to promote the value of those things to which men have been called, and encourage men within their calling to be true men of God. Like Iron John's young prince, our manhood is developed in the wonder and responsibility of our toilsome labors.
Bly's work is an analysis of the tale, Iron John, by the Brother's Grimm. He finds in it an analogy (or perhaps a commentary) on a boy's development into manhood. In this tale a violent wild man by the name of Iron John is captured and caged at the King's palace and subsequently bribes a young prince into releasing him. In order to do this, the prince steals--from under the queen's pillow--the key that unlocks the cage. Having done so, the lad fears punishment, so he runs off with Iron John into the forest.
In the forest, Iron John assigns the prince the task of protecting a well that turns all that enters it into gold. Ultimately, the young prince fails at his task, so the wild man sends him from the forest to labor in hardship and poverty. Yet, because the prince's failure was driven neither by greed nor malice, Iron John promises that in the event of great need, all the prince has to do is come to the edge of the forest and call out "Iron John!" three times and the wild man would supply him with all the resources the young man could need. This the prince does on two occasions--once when the city to which he traveled is being attacked (and the prince leads an army to victory), and once when he seeks to win the heart of a princess (and succeeds). At his wedding, the hard-laboring prince is reunited with his royal parents and with Iron John, who enters as a majestic king and reveals his own royal identity, long hidden by an enchantment which had made him a savage.
In Iron John, Bly argues for the need for male mentors, contending that the lack of them in modern society has led to mentally and emotionally underdeveloped men. Iron John is an appropriate mentor because he possesses both the innate wildness of every man and the potential nobility and virulence these supply when harnessed and focused. Bly also insists upon the need for meaningful "rites of passage," analogized through the releasing of Iron John, the prince's assignment of a task, his expulsion from the forest, his entry into battle, and his winning of the princess. It is suggested that the prince's theft of the key is his breaking away from a mother-figure to be mentored by a man (a necessary step toward masculine independence) and that the young man's labors in hardship are his acceptance of the responsibility that is required for true masculine maturity. In all, Bly advocates a stronger, wilder, and more dangerous vision of masculinity, and reaps the derision of many feminist and pro-feminist critics.
I am in many ways sympathetic to the concerns of the Mythopoetic Men's Movement, and yet I am bothered by some of its unintended consequences, and it is to both of these that I want to direct a few comments.
First, I believe that Bly is correct about men's natural attributes--their "masculine tendencies"--and a strong Scriptural case can be made for this. From the beginning we read that God created mankind "male and female." They were obviously different from one another and on more than just a physical level. The man was oriented toward his task, the assignment given to him when he was created, and the woman was oriented toward the man, having been brought to him and for him at her creation. When God said the man needed "a helper suitable for him," it implies that the helper--a female--would have strengths where the man was lacking. When they fell into sin, the curse affected the orientations of each. For her, the curse affected her at the level of child-bearing and relationship with the man. For him, the curse affected his mission. The author takes great care to clarify that both beings were created in the image of God, that together they fulfilled the meaning of that term, and that each was distinct in qualities and focus from the other--one was male and one was female.
Based upon this created distinction, the apostle Paul insists upon an essential equality and functional diversity of man and woman. Men are to lead in the home and women are to submit to their husbands, having been created "for the man." Men are to exercise authority in the church; women must not exercise a similar authority over men. Peter calls women "the weaker partner." I would argue this refers to her position, which in all of Scripture obligates the stronger (male) to demonstrate special consideration and honor to the weaker (female). She must grow in inner beauty, he must grow in outer courage and spiritual leadership. Failure to honor their distinctions will undermine the callings and spiritual progress of both sexes.
Apart from the Scripture, observation of tendencies within genders is unmistakable and well-documented. Little girls talk, little boys make truck sounds. Little girls play house with their dolls, little boys use them to fight bad guys and win wars. Women prefer love stories, men prefer action movies. Women want to express feelings, men want to fix problems. Many more generalities can be made and, without question, will fail to apply to all members of a gender, but the tendencies are regular enough to garner broad support among psychologists and humorists alike.
I believe there is much to be wary of in a culture that has become increasingly preferential to feminine tendencies. When a man finds inability or lack of desire to express himself in the culturally prescribed manner, we should expect a level of disaffection. This disaffection poses at least two dangers to our society. One is that men will fail to rise to their masculine potential. Being wired to performance and action they will find their efforts frowned upon and devalued, and there will be little encouragement to excel. There will also a lack of contexts in which his masculine potential is fostered in a way with which he identifies. This means that men will fail to perform as intended by God, according to their created nature. It also will compel women to fill the vacancy, hindering their best performance as intended by God. Each gender bears the image of God, but only expresses that image successfully when it does so according to created intent.
Another societal harm is that the man's masculinity will, of nature and necessity, be expressed, but having had no guidance and direction for constructive outlets, he will express his "wild side" in destructive ways--like Iron John before his imprisonment. Thus, I believe it is imperative for us to understand, embrace, harness, and mentor men in their masculinity to help them achieve their potential. Looking at youth, and especially urban youth, culture it is not difficult to identify a faulty, savage masculinity pervading its ethos. Men are over-sexualized, seeking women only for self-gratification and in some cases as a bread-winner. Music and prisons attest to a violence that is both gratuitous and aimless. The noble side of Iron John is not to be found and, likely as Bly suggests, the consequence of an absence of noble male mentors.
There is a nobility to being a man that we must recover, recognizing his distinction from the women with whom he interacts and the tendencies and orientation that are his by God's design, but recognizing also the potential savage within man when his masculinity is not fostered and guided.
With that said, there are dangers in the wholesale imbibing of the Mythopoetic Men's Movement that has taken place in some of the Christian world. The current interest in men's ministry did not originate with the churches. It started among secularists like Bly and his colleagues. The admittedly narrow historical overview given above serves as a warning against an unfiltered application of its convictions to a Christian pursuit of masculinity. In particular, the focus of the modern men's movement is toward a fictionalized warrior/superhero image of masculinity. Thus it pushes men into an unrealistic model of manhood rather than helping men to come to grips with the greatness and value of the tasks they've already been given--and which occupy most of their lives.
In his book, Waking the Dead, John Eldridge achieves a moment of personal enlightenment when he confesses to God his desire to be "God's Aragorn." Yes, Aragorn is a cool character in a fictional novel, but even if he was real, he was called to a particular mission at a point of necessity and most of Eldridge's readers are going to work from 9 to 5 (I have my suspicions that most of his readers are actually at home watching Oprah). This image of the warrior male, while bearing some illustrative value regarding courage, integrity, and a commitment to causes greater than the individual, is not where most men are. Nor is it where most men have been called to be. To set up this ideal before the hearts and minds of men, while perhaps motivational, is destined to disappoint them. Why? Because few have the opportunity to fulfill such a mission. If that existential experience is to define manhood, most will fail to attain it. However, if the image we set before men comes from Scripture rather than mythology, the potential for success becomes real and attainable.
Many men fail to see the reality and the significance of the mission that lies before them. Colossians 3 offers an instructive comment in this respect. "Slaves, obey your earthly masters in everything; and do it, not only when their eye is on you and to win their favor, but with sincerity of heart and reverence for the Lord. Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving." What could be more noble than that! You, man, are serving the Lord Christ at work. The slaves Paul refers to have not been denied their opportunity to become real men. Rather, they have been given a context in which to express their masculinity through the faithful exercise of their calling.
Going to work is an act of nobility. Nurturing one's children or grandchildren in the faith is an act of nobility (Eph. 6:4). Enabling one's wife in her spiritual progress is an act of nobility (Eph 5:25-27). Providing for your family is an act of nobility (1Tim 5:8). Mowing the lawn, building a deck, balancing a check book, wrestling with your boys or reading with your girls, going fishing or hunting, etc., these are acts of nobility that are part of most men's worlds. They are each a part of the mission we've been given in Scripture: to create, to work, to provide, to sustain the garden and multiply fruitfully. Our problem is not that we don't aim toward greater images. It's that we've lost connection with the divine design and calling of our lives. I don't need to be Aragorn. I need to be Tim--and be him well.
A Christian men's movement needs to recapture the grand vision of life, family, and work that exists for them. It needs to promote the value of those things to which men have been called, and encourage men within their calling to be true men of God. Like Iron John's young prince, our manhood is developed in the wonder and responsibility of our toilsome labors.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Masculine Faith
The demographics of churches in America seem problematic, and the problem is that churches are attended predominantly by women. Don't get me wrong--it's not that I see women's attendance as a negative. It's just that I see men's avoidance of worship as troubling and I want to know why this lack of masculine appeal exists.
I have been in pursuit of what I call "masculine Christianity." Masculine Christianity is one that is strong, bold, persevering, and that captures the vision and allegiance of men. I don't want to create a new or distorted form of Christianity, molded to the itching ears of chauvinists. I'm talking about true and traditional faith in the God of Moses, David, Elijah, Peter, and Saul of Tarsus, about faith in Jesus who faced opposition head on, who preached radical commitment, and who endured God's wrath on our behalf. I'm in pursuit of the Christianity of William Tyndale, John Bunyan, John Paton, Charles Spurgeon, William Wilberforce, and Martin Luther. When I survey history I see at least two era's when a masculine Christianity ruled the day, those of the Puritans and the Reformers, and I've asked myself what distinguished their faith from contemporary evangelicalism. Among other things, theirs was a doctrinally-based Christianity. It's not that ours has eradicated theology entirely, although the doctrinal illiteracy of our time is no secret. It's that theirs focused upon fact and truth as the avenue to the heart, and produced strength, zeal, and a passion for Jesus Christ.
Christianity that reaches men speaks to them at the level of intellect and reason. The resultant faith is not lacking emotion or passion. Rather, it is a faith informed by sound, strong doctrine that inspires courage and godliness among men. So informed, men rise to the challenges of their times. They lead their families, churches, and societies. Their minds are consumed with great themes such as atonement, justification, God's covenants, human depravity, and Christ's Glory. The Puritans and Reformers possessed such a faith. They new the Scriptures and they knew sound doctrine. Yet, contrary to modern expectation, that did not produce a dry and distant relationship with God, nor a harshness of culture. Even a cursory reading of the things they wrote reveal a love for Christ that it seldom imitated today. While their faith affected their culture and daily living, it engaged their mind and warmed their heart. It captured their whole being.
Men must be inspired, but they need to be inspired by the weight and promise of great ideas. They want a cause to uphold, but they must be reached through the mind. Women (speaking stereotypically and generally) are inspired through emotions. They can be satisfied with better feelings and so their worship emphasizes God's love, Jesus' kindness, and their own happiness and hope created by the acceptance they have found in relationship to God. Men, on the other hand, grab hold of truth and respond with vigor. They are dissatisfied with worship that addresses felt needs and feelings. They want something solid.
Many churches have focused upon the former--a feminine, emotionally driven Christianity--without consideration to either the needs of men nor the value of doctrinally-rich, content-laden worship. When exactly this shift occurred I do not know, though it was strengthened by the rise of Neo-Pentecostalism (or Charismatic Christianity) in the 1960's and early 70's. Churches abandoned hymns in favor of choruses--an improvement in terms of musical relevance but pathetically lacking in content. Sermons began to address felt needs for self-improvement and personal well-being. These things connected with women. Some will obviously object that I have painted too narrow a perspective, and I don't mean to imply that these things are true for all members of a gender. My contention is that they are mostly true for a high percentage of each gender. To the degree that worship abandoned men, men abandoned worship.
A very popular chorus comes to mind that demonstrates what I have been saying:
AS THE DEER
As the deer panteth for the water,
So my soul longeth after you.
You alone are my heart’s desire
And I long to worship you.
You alone are my strength, my shield.
To you alone may my spirit yield.
You alone are my heart’s desire
And I long to worship you.
You're my friend, and You are my brother
Even though You are a King.
and I love You more than any other
So much more than anything.
This song, taken very loosely (the first two lines) from Psalm 42, notes very little of God's quality and attributes, and nothing of his greatest work in Christ and in salvation. If one needs a point of comparison, consider Luther's A Mighty Fortress is Our God. As The Deer is a symbol, and perhaps one of the most well known, of a new genre of emotive music. It focuses almost entirely upon how I feel, what I want, and what would make me satisfied (lest anyone think I am simply opposed to modern music, I would counter that I am encouraged by a new wave of doctrinally-rich contemporary hymns/choruses being written by men like Keith Getty). When David penned the Psalm, it was put in the context of suffering, opposition, and the need for God's salvation--powerful, thought-provoking truth. For a generation, however, people have contented themselves with the chorus as here presented. It elicited an emotional response only. Meanwhile, men became increasingly disinterested in the mission and message of churches so oriented.
Churches can influence society once again when they give men access to a masculine relationship with their God, one that affects both heart and mind. They need to return to their foundational, truth-expounding, world-changing mission. They must abandon the idea of a doctrinally-minimal Christianity and imitate the efforts of men like John MacArthur, John Piper, Alistair Begg, and Albert Mohler to impact a new generation of men through exposition and doctrinal clarity. We should applaud the efforts of musicians who seek to help us with the same. When men are again inspired by great truth that elicits zeal, courage, and passion, even the women who follow them will find their faith enriched.
I have been in pursuit of what I call "masculine Christianity." Masculine Christianity is one that is strong, bold, persevering, and that captures the vision and allegiance of men. I don't want to create a new or distorted form of Christianity, molded to the itching ears of chauvinists. I'm talking about true and traditional faith in the God of Moses, David, Elijah, Peter, and Saul of Tarsus, about faith in Jesus who faced opposition head on, who preached radical commitment, and who endured God's wrath on our behalf. I'm in pursuit of the Christianity of William Tyndale, John Bunyan, John Paton, Charles Spurgeon, William Wilberforce, and Martin Luther. When I survey history I see at least two era's when a masculine Christianity ruled the day, those of the Puritans and the Reformers, and I've asked myself what distinguished their faith from contemporary evangelicalism. Among other things, theirs was a doctrinally-based Christianity. It's not that ours has eradicated theology entirely, although the doctrinal illiteracy of our time is no secret. It's that theirs focused upon fact and truth as the avenue to the heart, and produced strength, zeal, and a passion for Jesus Christ.
Christianity that reaches men speaks to them at the level of intellect and reason. The resultant faith is not lacking emotion or passion. Rather, it is a faith informed by sound, strong doctrine that inspires courage and godliness among men. So informed, men rise to the challenges of their times. They lead their families, churches, and societies. Their minds are consumed with great themes such as atonement, justification, God's covenants, human depravity, and Christ's Glory. The Puritans and Reformers possessed such a faith. They new the Scriptures and they knew sound doctrine. Yet, contrary to modern expectation, that did not produce a dry and distant relationship with God, nor a harshness of culture. Even a cursory reading of the things they wrote reveal a love for Christ that it seldom imitated today. While their faith affected their culture and daily living, it engaged their mind and warmed their heart. It captured their whole being.
Men must be inspired, but they need to be inspired by the weight and promise of great ideas. They want a cause to uphold, but they must be reached through the mind. Women (speaking stereotypically and generally) are inspired through emotions. They can be satisfied with better feelings and so their worship emphasizes God's love, Jesus' kindness, and their own happiness and hope created by the acceptance they have found in relationship to God. Men, on the other hand, grab hold of truth and respond with vigor. They are dissatisfied with worship that addresses felt needs and feelings. They want something solid.
Many churches have focused upon the former--a feminine, emotionally driven Christianity--without consideration to either the needs of men nor the value of doctrinally-rich, content-laden worship. When exactly this shift occurred I do not know, though it was strengthened by the rise of Neo-Pentecostalism (or Charismatic Christianity) in the 1960's and early 70's. Churches abandoned hymns in favor of choruses--an improvement in terms of musical relevance but pathetically lacking in content. Sermons began to address felt needs for self-improvement and personal well-being. These things connected with women. Some will obviously object that I have painted too narrow a perspective, and I don't mean to imply that these things are true for all members of a gender. My contention is that they are mostly true for a high percentage of each gender. To the degree that worship abandoned men, men abandoned worship.
A very popular chorus comes to mind that demonstrates what I have been saying:
AS THE DEER
As the deer panteth for the water,
So my soul longeth after you.
You alone are my heart’s desire
And I long to worship you.
You alone are my strength, my shield.
To you alone may my spirit yield.
You alone are my heart’s desire
And I long to worship you.
You're my friend, and You are my brother
Even though You are a King.
and I love You more than any other
So much more than anything.
This song, taken very loosely (the first two lines) from Psalm 42, notes very little of God's quality and attributes, and nothing of his greatest work in Christ and in salvation. If one needs a point of comparison, consider Luther's A Mighty Fortress is Our God. As The Deer is a symbol, and perhaps one of the most well known, of a new genre of emotive music. It focuses almost entirely upon how I feel, what I want, and what would make me satisfied (lest anyone think I am simply opposed to modern music, I would counter that I am encouraged by a new wave of doctrinally-rich contemporary hymns/choruses being written by men like Keith Getty). When David penned the Psalm, it was put in the context of suffering, opposition, and the need for God's salvation--powerful, thought-provoking truth. For a generation, however, people have contented themselves with the chorus as here presented. It elicited an emotional response only. Meanwhile, men became increasingly disinterested in the mission and message of churches so oriented.
Churches can influence society once again when they give men access to a masculine relationship with their God, one that affects both heart and mind. They need to return to their foundational, truth-expounding, world-changing mission. They must abandon the idea of a doctrinally-minimal Christianity and imitate the efforts of men like John MacArthur, John Piper, Alistair Begg, and Albert Mohler to impact a new generation of men through exposition and doctrinal clarity. We should applaud the efforts of musicians who seek to help us with the same. When men are again inspired by great truth that elicits zeal, courage, and passion, even the women who follow them will find their faith enriched.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Loss of a friend
I recently lost a friend, or so I thought. He didn't die, he just chose no longer to associate with me. The trigger that compelled his departure was a political statement that offended him. My question, however, concerns not the trigger but the spring that launched him. What incited such a violent and graceless reaction? I doubt it was my statement. I may disagree with friends over their statements, but I'm rarely, RARELY, offended--and never to the point of turning my back on them. Friends disagree, but to suddenly despise someone is a very different matter.
I've begun processing the ordeal, hoping to learn from it. My point here is not to discount the things I should learn about myself, but as these things tend to be multifaceted, a realization came to me about the difference between acquaintanceship and friendship, and the expectations/responses within both. I may well have credited our relationship with a friendship where none existed.
I thought it odd that over the several years that he and his wife attended our church, they refused to become members. A question of membership in a local church involves two matters--agreement with the doctrine and practice of the church, and the desire to place oneself under the authority of that church, for Christ's sake and the good of one's soul. I'm certain that the gentleman agreed with the doctrine of our church, so he must have been unwilling on the other matter. Since I am the pastor of the church, this made for a strange statement about the status of our relationship. I should have noted this from the beginning.
Friendship demands a conveyance of trust. I do not trust all people equally, nor do I have the same expectations of all people I know. Some people are little more than folks I know reasonably well and enjoy. They are not sources of edification or counsel, but they're good for a laugh, a golf partner, or a hand lifting something heavy. They are acquaintances. We might go to dinner together and interact socially at other venues, but trust is superficial. Within this relationship, civility is expected and a modest amount of sacrifice, but little of deeper commitment.
On the other end of the spectrum are those people who are better called friends. We encourage one another. There is a high degree of trust between us. When I need counsel, these are the people I go to. At times when civility and sacrifice are lacking, commitment to the person trumps an ungracious disposition. There are no triggers, because there are no springs. Otherwise it's not a friendship. In the Proverbs, Solomon tells us that "a friend loves at all times." He will not disassociate with you if he does not like your politics. The friendship is more valuable than that. In fact, you will likely hone and sharpen one another's perspectives on such issues. A friend would not refuse to come under your authority as pastor of a church, because he regards you and your insight highly. He doesn't think you're perfect, but he knows God has allowed you to connect for each other's good. He loves at all times; he trusts you and he knows that you trust him.
An acquaintance has a different level of tolerance. He may be easily offended, so you're not as likely to be open with him; he may question your commitment to him, and perhaps rightly so; he may limit his interaction to particular contexts and conversations so as to avoid the deeper level of friendship.
My "'friend's" choice to not become a member where I am a pastor certainly did not convey trust. Perhaps I was undeserving, or perhaps he was lacking in ability to trust (I am not the 1st, or 2nd, pastor he ever objected to). But whatever it was, his departure revealed something about the nature of our relationship that I had not previously considered. We were acquaintances, not friends.
Losing a friend is nearly impossible and, I would imagine, incredibly painful. I would think that one's presence would have to be terribly detrimental, and his responses quite stubborn, to actually lose a friend. My experience at this man's departure was one of despondency. I found it hard to imagine that I was so disagreeable and worthless. Yes, I'm sure I have many things to learn, but one thing I learned is not to invest too heavily in people's departures. I have never lost a friend. I have only lost acquaintances.
I've begun processing the ordeal, hoping to learn from it. My point here is not to discount the things I should learn about myself, but as these things tend to be multifaceted, a realization came to me about the difference between acquaintanceship and friendship, and the expectations/responses within both. I may well have credited our relationship with a friendship where none existed.
I thought it odd that over the several years that he and his wife attended our church, they refused to become members. A question of membership in a local church involves two matters--agreement with the doctrine and practice of the church, and the desire to place oneself under the authority of that church, for Christ's sake and the good of one's soul. I'm certain that the gentleman agreed with the doctrine of our church, so he must have been unwilling on the other matter. Since I am the pastor of the church, this made for a strange statement about the status of our relationship. I should have noted this from the beginning.
Friendship demands a conveyance of trust. I do not trust all people equally, nor do I have the same expectations of all people I know. Some people are little more than folks I know reasonably well and enjoy. They are not sources of edification or counsel, but they're good for a laugh, a golf partner, or a hand lifting something heavy. They are acquaintances. We might go to dinner together and interact socially at other venues, but trust is superficial. Within this relationship, civility is expected and a modest amount of sacrifice, but little of deeper commitment.
On the other end of the spectrum are those people who are better called friends. We encourage one another. There is a high degree of trust between us. When I need counsel, these are the people I go to. At times when civility and sacrifice are lacking, commitment to the person trumps an ungracious disposition. There are no triggers, because there are no springs. Otherwise it's not a friendship. In the Proverbs, Solomon tells us that "a friend loves at all times." He will not disassociate with you if he does not like your politics. The friendship is more valuable than that. In fact, you will likely hone and sharpen one another's perspectives on such issues. A friend would not refuse to come under your authority as pastor of a church, because he regards you and your insight highly. He doesn't think you're perfect, but he knows God has allowed you to connect for each other's good. He loves at all times; he trusts you and he knows that you trust him.
An acquaintance has a different level of tolerance. He may be easily offended, so you're not as likely to be open with him; he may question your commitment to him, and perhaps rightly so; he may limit his interaction to particular contexts and conversations so as to avoid the deeper level of friendship.
My "'friend's" choice to not become a member where I am a pastor certainly did not convey trust. Perhaps I was undeserving, or perhaps he was lacking in ability to trust (I am not the 1st, or 2nd, pastor he ever objected to). But whatever it was, his departure revealed something about the nature of our relationship that I had not previously considered. We were acquaintances, not friends.
Losing a friend is nearly impossible and, I would imagine, incredibly painful. I would think that one's presence would have to be terribly detrimental, and his responses quite stubborn, to actually lose a friend. My experience at this man's departure was one of despondency. I found it hard to imagine that I was so disagreeable and worthless. Yes, I'm sure I have many things to learn, but one thing I learned is not to invest too heavily in people's departures. I have never lost a friend. I have only lost acquaintances.
Fundamentalist?
In modern vernacular, the term "fundamentalist" generally carries one of two connotations:
1) an angry religious moralist who opposes any enjoyment of life for fear of consequent sin;
2) a rabid religious zealot whose adherence to a particular dogma leads to acts of violence.
I am using the term in neither of these ways.
I suppose the term "evangelical" could substitute, though it no longer means what it once did. For many, what once referred to a life oriented around the gospel, both in its belief and practice, now carries the connotation of a light-hearted and light-weighted Christianity, often focused upon catchy music and traditional values politics.
In 1923, J. Gresham Machen published a book entitled Christianity & Liberalism, which title exemplifies his conclusions concerning a debate that had been raging for more than a decade at Princeton Seminary. Machen, among others, insisted that modernist views rejecting essential doctrines--ranging from the reliability of Scripture to the resurrection of Christ--were antithetical to true Christianity. Thus, the options were Christianity or Liberalism, but the two are by definition mutually exclusive. Of course, a faith based upon certain fundamental doctrines will, of necessity, exclude from its recognition of "genuine" Christianity other alternatives, such as Roman Catholicism (the system, not necessarily individuals), Mormonism, the Watchtower Society, and other lesser known deviations. This is the sense in which I am using the term
Many will accuse such a perspective of intolerance, and make assumptions about its motives and personalities. Let me try to dispel some of these notions. First, I have many friends who do not share my doctrinal convictions. I love these friends. I and my family are socially engaged with them. We rejoice at their successes and sorrow over their failures. Yet, we are not by this compelled to abandon our beliefs. Tolerance does not demand agreement, but civility. I also consider my motives to be sincere. I pray for these friends to come to a knowledge of the truth--a knowledge that will not only improve their present but secure their eternity. Short of such knowledge, I believe their only joys to be temporal and their eternity to be tragic. So I attempt to convince them of my beliefs. A genuine friend could do no other. They need not accept my views to be my friends, but I sure love them and hope they will. In personality, I do not think you would find me to be combative or quarrelsome. I am passionate; I am driven; but, I am happy.
In contrast to the nomenclature "evangelical," my theology is rich, and deep, and meaningful. It shares the great heritage of the reformers and Puritans, rejects the folly of the revivalists of the 19th and early 20th centuries, and distinguishes easily between those doctrines which are essential for true Christian faith, and those which are helpful for Christian maturity and Christian living.
I am a happy fundamentalist.
1) an angry religious moralist who opposes any enjoyment of life for fear of consequent sin;
2) a rabid religious zealot whose adherence to a particular dogma leads to acts of violence.
I am using the term in neither of these ways.
I suppose the term "evangelical" could substitute, though it no longer means what it once did. For many, what once referred to a life oriented around the gospel, both in its belief and practice, now carries the connotation of a light-hearted and light-weighted Christianity, often focused upon catchy music and traditional values politics.
In 1923, J. Gresham Machen published a book entitled Christianity & Liberalism, which title exemplifies his conclusions concerning a debate that had been raging for more than a decade at Princeton Seminary. Machen, among others, insisted that modernist views rejecting essential doctrines--ranging from the reliability of Scripture to the resurrection of Christ--were antithetical to true Christianity. Thus, the options were Christianity or Liberalism, but the two are by definition mutually exclusive. Of course, a faith based upon certain fundamental doctrines will, of necessity, exclude from its recognition of "genuine" Christianity other alternatives, such as Roman Catholicism (the system, not necessarily individuals), Mormonism, the Watchtower Society, and other lesser known deviations. This is the sense in which I am using the term
Many will accuse such a perspective of intolerance, and make assumptions about its motives and personalities. Let me try to dispel some of these notions. First, I have many friends who do not share my doctrinal convictions. I love these friends. I and my family are socially engaged with them. We rejoice at their successes and sorrow over their failures. Yet, we are not by this compelled to abandon our beliefs. Tolerance does not demand agreement, but civility. I also consider my motives to be sincere. I pray for these friends to come to a knowledge of the truth--a knowledge that will not only improve their present but secure their eternity. Short of such knowledge, I believe their only joys to be temporal and their eternity to be tragic. So I attempt to convince them of my beliefs. A genuine friend could do no other. They need not accept my views to be my friends, but I sure love them and hope they will. In personality, I do not think you would find me to be combative or quarrelsome. I am passionate; I am driven; but, I am happy.
In contrast to the nomenclature "evangelical," my theology is rich, and deep, and meaningful. It shares the great heritage of the reformers and Puritans, rejects the folly of the revivalists of the 19th and early 20th centuries, and distinguishes easily between those doctrines which are essential for true Christian faith, and those which are helpful for Christian maturity and Christian living.
I am a happy fundamentalist.
Monday, July 2, 2007
Christianity: Symbolism or substance?
Lately, a couple matters have gotten me thinking about the nature of Christianity and spirituality in our modern world. First, an Episcopal church in my community has been growing. At least, I am assuming this based upon a new building project that the church has undertaken. Were it not for my awareness of that particular church's social and religious perspectives, I might have given their building project hardly a thought. However, as a church celebrates homosexual relationships and ordination, believes in a right to abortion, and supports most other secular progressive agenda items, their growth is unexpected. Consistently, churches that have embraced these views have been dying. I'll suggest reasons why in another post, but here I just want to ask one question: why is that one growing?
Second, a friend announced she had converted to Roman Catholicism (coincidentally, she left the above named episcopal church because of its positions on social issues). She claims to have had an evangelical conversion experience at some point in her life, so why, having found Christ to be her all-sufficient substitute, would she embrace a dogma that denies salvation by grace alone (see: Council of Trent)?
In both cases there is a common thread: symbolism.
When completed, the episcopal church will take the shape of a cross. It's not that the church appreciates, or even grasps, the significance of the cross. It seems, rather, a desire for a symbiotic relationship to religious architecture over centuries. The base of the cross-shape will point to a recently installed labyrinth, a design taken from an ancient monastery, for contemplation as one walks it--another connection with ancient ways.
In the case of our newly Roman Catholic friend, it was a decision predicated on her recent "grasp" of the meaning of the mysteries in sacraments, papal succession, tradition, etc.
In both cases, Christianity is a more-or-less aesthetic matter. One might call it emotive or contemplative. Some wrongly coin it "spiritual." What its adherents are seeking is greater "meaning"--a gnostic love of mysteries--and a connection with the historical, cultural, and religious significance of the past. There is a great love for liturgy, irrespective of the message of the liturgy (which quite frequently clashes with the message of the homily). If the words to Amazing Grace (or Cat Scratch Fever, for that matter) were appended to an orchestral arrangement or a Gregorian chant, adherents of aesthetic religion would be moved to rejoicing, far beyond the response elicited by the song's original form or intended message.
I'm not opposed to the aesthetic, mind you. My wife is an accomplished (and selling) artist. I appreciate her talents and encourage her in every way I can conceive. I also believe worship should express the beauty of the Lord, as well as the "singing of new songs." At its core, however, an expression of worship should be driven by a love for and communication of the truth. The problem arises where the love for beauty ignores the truth.
I have embraced a faith of a different sort. While appreciating beauty in expression, my faith is fundamentally rational and forensic. It is about the sinless Christ, sacrificed to pay the eternal debt incurred by my violation of God's perfect moral will. It is about faith in a person and an event that occurred in time/space history. It's symbols are bread, wine, and water, but the symbols exist to communicate a message. Expressions of worship not prohibited in Scripture--and which do not lead to a misunderstanding of the truth--may find use within the church, but expression is incidental. Primary is the exaltation of a person and an event.
This is the reason that the reformers moved the pulpit from the side to front and center in church sanctuaries. They wanted to convey the primacy of the Word of God and the doctrine proclaimed, in contrast to symbols and traditions that had so obscured the truth. Real Christianity is about substance, not symbols, and an abundance of the latter cannot compensate for a lack of the former. In fact, it seems most often to undermine the former.
Our modern world, religious life not excluded, seems driven by aesthetic. It matters little what the truth may be. It only matters what feels good and what seems to possess artistic "depth" and "significance." People are interested in feelings rather than ideas, and because of the vacuousness of this existence, there is a longing to connect with something that seems both "substantial" and aesthetically pleasing. So the attraction of the offerings of my local Episcopalian church, or the Roman Catholic Church, grows. It's not a matter of truth. It's a matter of symbolism. Thus, the substance of the plain, sometimes hard, gospel is ignored.
Second, a friend announced she had converted to Roman Catholicism (coincidentally, she left the above named episcopal church because of its positions on social issues). She claims to have had an evangelical conversion experience at some point in her life, so why, having found Christ to be her all-sufficient substitute, would she embrace a dogma that denies salvation by grace alone (see: Council of Trent)?
In both cases there is a common thread: symbolism.
When completed, the episcopal church will take the shape of a cross. It's not that the church appreciates, or even grasps, the significance of the cross. It seems, rather, a desire for a symbiotic relationship to religious architecture over centuries. The base of the cross-shape will point to a recently installed labyrinth, a design taken from an ancient monastery, for contemplation as one walks it--another connection with ancient ways.
In the case of our newly Roman Catholic friend, it was a decision predicated on her recent "grasp" of the meaning of the mysteries in sacraments, papal succession, tradition, etc.
In both cases, Christianity is a more-or-less aesthetic matter. One might call it emotive or contemplative. Some wrongly coin it "spiritual." What its adherents are seeking is greater "meaning"--a gnostic love of mysteries--and a connection with the historical, cultural, and religious significance of the past. There is a great love for liturgy, irrespective of the message of the liturgy (which quite frequently clashes with the message of the homily). If the words to Amazing Grace (or Cat Scratch Fever, for that matter) were appended to an orchestral arrangement or a Gregorian chant, adherents of aesthetic religion would be moved to rejoicing, far beyond the response elicited by the song's original form or intended message.
I'm not opposed to the aesthetic, mind you. My wife is an accomplished (and selling) artist. I appreciate her talents and encourage her in every way I can conceive. I also believe worship should express the beauty of the Lord, as well as the "singing of new songs." At its core, however, an expression of worship should be driven by a love for and communication of the truth. The problem arises where the love for beauty ignores the truth.
I have embraced a faith of a different sort. While appreciating beauty in expression, my faith is fundamentally rational and forensic. It is about the sinless Christ, sacrificed to pay the eternal debt incurred by my violation of God's perfect moral will. It is about faith in a person and an event that occurred in time/space history. It's symbols are bread, wine, and water, but the symbols exist to communicate a message. Expressions of worship not prohibited in Scripture--and which do not lead to a misunderstanding of the truth--may find use within the church, but expression is incidental. Primary is the exaltation of a person and an event.
This is the reason that the reformers moved the pulpit from the side to front and center in church sanctuaries. They wanted to convey the primacy of the Word of God and the doctrine proclaimed, in contrast to symbols and traditions that had so obscured the truth. Real Christianity is about substance, not symbols, and an abundance of the latter cannot compensate for a lack of the former. In fact, it seems most often to undermine the former.
Our modern world, religious life not excluded, seems driven by aesthetic. It matters little what the truth may be. It only matters what feels good and what seems to possess artistic "depth" and "significance." People are interested in feelings rather than ideas, and because of the vacuousness of this existence, there is a longing to connect with something that seems both "substantial" and aesthetically pleasing. So the attraction of the offerings of my local Episcopalian church, or the Roman Catholic Church, grows. It's not a matter of truth. It's a matter of symbolism. Thus, the substance of the plain, sometimes hard, gospel is ignored.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
