Kyle Roberts Blog

New Location

2010-04-29T09:04:00.000-07:00

You can now find my blog at my new website address: www.kylearoberts.com

The Hope of Heaven - God comes down

2010-04-24T09:38:00.000-07:00

The book of Revelation, and the whole of Scripture, gives us a bit of a different picture of heaven than the "popular view." The common view is that heaven is the final destination of the redeemed and that heaven is osme ethereal sphere up in the clouds--a kind of spiritual 5-star resort or amusement park where everybody gets their own mansion. As N.T. Wright has persuasively shown, in Surprised by Hope, the biblical idea of heaven is rather different from the common view. The biblical idea is not so much that you go “up” to some place called heaven when you die, but rather that God eventually makes his “home” on a recreated earth and lives with the redeemed forever. Now, the Bible does speak of heaven as another dimension, if you will, where God "resides." Wright has described it as something of a "control room," where God's presence and Kingdom is most emphatically real. Believers do go to heaven, or "paradise" when they die. But this is the intermediate state. It is life after death, not "life after life after death."

The substance of Christian hope is the eventual bodily resurrection of all believers (evidenced in Jesus Christ rising from the tomb) and the promise of the final healing and restoration of God’s good creation. God will eventually make his home with created reality, heaven will meet up with earth, the marriage of the lamb and the bride will be complete. Creation will still exist, but will be redeemed and there will be no more tears or pain. This biblical idea of the “new heavens and new earth” has wonderful implications for our lives. In our struggles with life: whether depression, anxiety, marriage or relationship difficulty, job loss, physical suffering, sickness, etc., biblical hope is the promise that everything will be healed, restored, completed, and fulfilled. Our hope lies in the promise that, as Job proclaimed in the midst of his suffering, our redeemer lives and one day he will stand on the earth. The frustrations, sorrows and sicknesses of this life will be wiped away (along with every tear) and we will rejoice in the eternal, visible presence of God–who will make everything right.

Some questions for reflection:

1. What do you think happens to people when they die? Where do they “go”? What kind of existence is it?

2. How do you picture heaven? Do you think your picture of heaven resonates with the biblical idea of the “new heavens and new earth”? Why or why not?

3. What difference does it make to your life that God is planning on restoring the creation that he made?

Sneak Preview: Food and Faith Response

2010-04-19T12:49:00.000-07:00

The following is the manuscript of my response to Kirschenmann's presentation to tonight's Food and Faith conference at St. Thomas:

Kirschenmann has convincingly brought our attention to a number of serious food and agriculture challenges our society (both national and global) will be facing in the decades ahead. And he has suggested that the faith community can play an important role in helping us to shape a response to these challenges.

I want to follow up with these questions: To what extent might evangelicals play a role in confronting these issues? Does the theology undergirding evangelical churches, on the whole, lend itself to such involvement? The answer is far from simplistic. Given the convincing nature of Kirschenmann’s paper (and he is not alone), the answer, normatively speaking, must be yes. Surely evangelical faith communities should contribute to the pressing issues raised. But will they? And what would be the motive if they do? Speaking out of the Baptist evangelical church, I can say that no faith community should be more concerned by a looming food crisis. Tell a group of Baptists (especially Southern ones) that the pot-luck supper could become a relic of the past, and they will sound the alarm and galvanize. No eschatological symbol has greater connectedness to Baptist theology than the table fellowship. When it comes to an eschatology of food, Baptists prefer the “already,” to the “not yet.” Joking aside, evangelicals should be contributing to a solution because (1) it is within their history to do so, (2) it is a crucial component of the Gospel and of Gospel-witness to do so, and (3) everybody eats.

Evangelicals have within our history a tradition of being “first respondents” to social crises and ethical and economic problems. Bethel Seminary, for example, has a historic link to Scandinavian Pietism. Pietist movements emerged as a reaction to a dry, intellectual, and socially-irrelevant Orthodoxy Whereas some traditions of Orthodoxy focused on a Pauline doctrine of justification by faith alone, the Pietists sought to recover James’ emphasis that true, regenerate faith always results in works; these works would naturally be demonstrable by engaging important social crises and issues and attempting to effect positive change. These two trajectories can be seen in present day evangelicalism: the Reformation emphasis on justifying faith and the Pietist emphasis on faithful and active justification (with consequent engagement in social issues).

The tensions between these two trajectories are sometimes palpable. Twentieth-century neo-evangelicalism objected strongly to the social-gospel movement (viewing it as a loss of the true Gospel). As a result, much of twentieth-century evangelicalism relinquished the social justice component of faith. We have seen, for the past decade or so, another correction within the evangelical movement as pockets of Pietistic, socially-concerned evangelicals (sometimes called “younger evangelicals”) are contributing to social issues with vigor, not as un-critical devotees of a particular political wing, but as concerned Christians dedicated to the implications of their faith for the good of the world. Many evangelicals, like myself, read Ron Sider’s Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger during their college years, and continue to pay attention to Jim Wallis and to younger, socially-engaged activists like Shane Claiborne. Even “mega-church” pastor Rick Warren has become prominently involved in social justice issues. Incidentally, I’ve found it interesting that Russell Moore, who occupies a prominent place on the more conservative side of evangelicalism, has particular fondness for Wendell Berry’s work. It makes sense that more than any other social issue, sustainable agriculture and food supply cuts across ideological lines. We all need to eat. The prominent question, though, is: If the economic and consumptive disparity continues between the haves and the have-nots, will the wealthier of the world sustain a prophetic concern for those who, in developing world countries, may increasingly find it impossible to eat.

Secondly, evangelicals should be contributors to the issue because of the implications of the Gospel. The Gospel is the story of Jesus Christ with all its redemptive significance. To participate in the proclamation of the Gospel is to recognize that Jesus cares about all dimensions of life; there is no more central dimension to life than food. Jesus used food imagery to describe himself: the “bread of life,” the “living water,” the sustenance that will never fade, abundant life. Securing quality of life and equality of opportunity for quality of life requires a holistic approach to the Gospel and to Gospel witness. The Gospel means good news. But Good news for whom? A holistic agrarian approach to life and to social involvement, including deep concern for the other (even those others we will never see), is integral to the meaning of the Gospel and to the effectiveness of its message.

In conclusion, there is great hope for Evangelicals to be involved in this issue. Our historical trajectory and our emphasis on the Good news of Christ—with its implications for life—suggests this to be true. But evangelicals will not really get active in these questions until they can feel the import of them. The message that we are misusing our natural resources, squandering the gift of our earth’s natural processes, diminishing the quality of life of our workers and our famers, and relegating authority over our food quality, food choices, and agriculture to an elite few corporations and policy-makers, must get out.

Eating is an agricultural act (Berry). But eating is also a spiritual act and even, we might say, an eschatological act. Let us not squander away the sacrament of the fullness of Christ’s table, but cultivate it, embrace it, and secure its good future for our friends, global neighbors and posterity.

The Spirit to the Churches: "Disestablish Yourselves!"

2010-02-02T09:00:00.000-08:00

In "Metamorphosis: From Christendom to Diaspora,” (possibly one of the most important theological essays in the past decade) theologian Douglas John Hall argues that Western Christianity in the late-modern period is being slowly and painfully weaned from the triumphalism, elitism and unhealthy conflation of Christian discipleship with cultural and social power that marked the church of modernity. Hall asserts that the Spirit's message to the churches today is: Go ahead and finish the job—disestablish yourselves.

In my recent interactions with seminary students around Hall's challenge (and some related themes put forth in Soong-Chan Rah's The Next Evangelicalism), I have a sense of hope for the future of the church. Many of our present and future (can I say, "emerging"?) leaders recognize the problems, admit our weaknesses, and desire to move forward in creative and more authentic ways. Hall is right that such honest recognition and admission is the first (and necessary) step toward renewal. If we can learn to envision the church differently, learn from communities different from our (or your) own, and listen deeply to what the "spirit is saying to the churches," we just might find a fresh movement of God in our midst.

Theology and Culture - the Big Question

2010-01-26T11:36:00.000-08:00

“Every answer to the question ‘how do theology and culture relate?’ will also be an answer as to who we think Jesus is” - Stephen Long

I have recently enjoyed a terrific online discussion in my Theology and Contemporary Culture course. We have been reading Stephen Long's insightful and concise Theology and Culture: A Guide to the Discussion (Cascade, 2009). Long persuasively emphasizes the inevitable mediation of language in the human articulation of knowledge and experience of God. As finite creatures, located in a particular time and place, we are happily doomed to grasping at theology through the straws of context (ours, that is). However, this recognition should not lead to despair. Orthodox Christology provides a powerful glimpse into the relation of theology and context. God chose to become flesh in Jesus Christ; thus sanctioning the messiness and scandal of particularity as the means of the knowledge of the Holy. This makes it imperative that we listen to voices different than our own in the construction of our theologies. We can and must dialogue with the other(s).

The reason for this is not just basic respect for others (though that's important too), but as a necessary component of the quest for truth. To neglect such open dialogue is to diminish our experience of God and to undermine the hope for reconciliation (a major component of God's project and plan for the world).

The question is: What voices are not being heard that need to be? What voices are we(you?) squelching or silencing to the detriment of us all? What does our view of the relation between theology and culture say about our Christologies?

Why Art is More True than Life

2009-07-09T12:42:00.000-07:00

"The truth of a work of art is both its adequacy to the basic structure of human experience and its correction and deepening of our understanding of this structure, so that we rightly say not only that art is true to life, but that art is more true than life.”
- Sallie McFague, Literature and the Christian Life

*painting is "Momentum" by Stephanie Roberts

Reflections on Narrative Theology

2009-06-27T22:02:00.000-07:00

I recently taught a course called "Narrative Theology" and thought I would post a few reflections on the experience. I found it to be one of my most stimulating teaching experiences thus far. The course was challenging to prep, because there isn't an established "canon" of course material upon which one can draw. Narrative theology is not so much a "discipline," or a "field" of study as it is a convergence of theologians and writings which share similar, albeit distinct, concerns and questions. What is theology? What is the point of it? What's the relation between narrative and theology? Who, or what, determines the meaning of a text? How is a theological proposal authorized or legitimated? What's the role of one's community in interpretation and theologizing? The questions go on.

While this schematization has its problems, it is helpful to think of narrative theology in terms of two "schools," Yale and Chicago. The Yale school includes theologians such as Hans Frei, George Lindbeck, and Stanley Hauerwas. The Chicago school boasts David Tracey, Sally McFague, and Paul Ricouer. It's crude to put it this way, but you might think of the Yale school folks as emphasizing the particularity and finality of the biblical narrative as appropriated within one's interpretive, religious community, while the windy city theologians emphasize the power of biblical narrative and metaphor to open new "possible worlds" (Ricoeur) and to intersect and dialogue with equally valid disciplines of discourse across interpretive communities.

The most intriguing discussions during the course centered around questions regarding the task of theology. We can grant that the Bible contains lots of narratives (duh), but what does a theology that attends intentionally to narrative and employs it as a form of theological discourse provide? Does narrative theology actually contribute a new way of doing theology? And if it does, is it an improvement on pre-modern theologizing? (or is it just a fancy way of saying we ought to be biblical (Yale) and our theology ought to be creatively engaged with the world (Chicago)?

I offer four initial suggestions (I welcome others from readers--especially those who took the course) as to what aspects of Narrative theology seem most helpful and potentially constructive for evangelical theology and its mission. These four suggestions come by way of four representative theologians.

(1) From Hans Frei: the warning that we have "eclipsed the biblical narrative" with something else. I fear that the evangelical church has substituted the raw and affective power of the biblical narratives, with all its depth, richness, complexity and perplexity, with other things (e.g. ideologies about scripture which leave scripture itself behind, self-help material, vague generalities regarding the "meaning of life," a CEO God rather than the Trinity, etc.)

(2) From George Lindbeck (and Wittgenstein): The insight that meaning is contextual. Words do not mean things, people do. And people speak words in a context. When the crusader, lopping off his enemy's head, say's "Jesus is Lord!" what does "Jesus is Lord" mean? It doesn't mean the same thing as when the martyr says it. This point has innumerable applications for theology, church life, evangelism, witness, etc.

(3) From Paul Ricoeur: On good literature (and especially Scripture) as opening up "possible worlds." The narratives of Scripture suggest new worlds we can can live in--worlds that give us hope for a better future. Preachers ought to read Ricoeur and consider how, when preaching the text, they can invite their listeners to enter the world of the Bible and to substitute its grand, hopeful (not all of them seem so, of course) narratives for their own little ones (materialism, "success," fatalism, etc.)

(4) From Sally McFague: On parable and metaphor as illuminating the mysterious intersection of the divine and the human, the sacred and the secular. Jesus' parables, she points out, are masterpieces of parabolic theology, in which the infinite is expressed through the finite, the Kingdom of God through the reality of the human. Coins, sheep and Samaritans become vehicles through which God's redemption is made tangible and accessible. Theologians ought to work hard at seeing the presence of God in the stuff of real life.

Does God Always Get What God Wants?

2009-05-25T15:13:00.000-07:00

The question may sound odd. Jarring, even. Our default sensibilities react sternly against the idea. Doesn't God, the all-powerful, all-knowing one deserving of all superlatives, always get his way? For many, great comfort lies in the belief that nothing happens outside God's plan. Every fallen sparrow was scripted. Thus every war, disease, (seemingly) untimely death, job loss, divorce, is part of God's intended plan. But for some, this view of God and God's "will" is less than satisfying. Does God really "want" cancer, genocide, and rape? If He does not want it, but yet it exists, it seems God does not always get what God wants. We could imagine two scenarios: (1) God won't prevent (all) evil and suffering because he can't or (2) God can't prevent (all) evil and suffering because he won't. The first option emphasizes God's limitations in the face of the complexities in the universe he decided to create. His hands are tied. Nancy Eiseland, in her beautifully challenging book, The Disabled God, argues for something like this option. She cannot relate to a God who could prevent all physical disabilities, by a wave of the magic wand, as it were, but simply chooses not to. The second option emphasizes God's unwillingness to intervene at every point, because of some greater good that he wants to ultimately actualize. In this perspective, God could prevent any evil or instantiation of suffering, by a simple exercise of divine power. Either option one chooses, it seems that God doesn't always get what God wants, in a sense, because the world is not yet what it should be.

In another sense, however, we can say that God decided to create this particular kind of world--a world in which sentient beings (demonic and human) are free--free to love or free to hate. Free to be thankful or free to be miserly. Free to rejoice with and for others, or free to plot and scheme against them. It's also a world in which the natural world is free--thus humans are not protected against tragedy, disease and trouble. God decided to create this kind of world, knowing what the consequences would be. And yet, we can say in another sense that in particular instances of evil and suffering and tragedy, God does not always get what God wants.

One day, when Christ returns, the Kingdom arrives in full, and the "new heavens and the new earth" supervene human history, we trust that God will have what God wants. But even then it's not so simple, because if a dimension of existence remains eternally in mis-relation to God (Hell), will God have what God wants? Not according to 2 Peter 3:9, which tells us that God desires no one to perish, but for all to come to eternal life.

A Pseudo Review of Tony Jones' "The New Christians"

2009-04-19T17:52:00.000-07:00

While this book has been around for a year or so, it's safe to say that the "new Christians" are still, well, relatively new. I hadn't had an opportunity to read Tony Jones' book until yesterday. I'm glad that I finally picked it up. This is an excellent, thoughtful introduction to the emergent Christian movement. Jones weaves the impulses, intuitions, values and concerns of postmodern Christianity around the story of the "birth" of Emergent Village. It's a good balance of auto-biography, theological/philosophical reflection, and testimonies ("dispatches") of Christians who are learning to practice and sustain their faith differently from what has been modeled to them in the era of "crusades" and mega-churches. Jones defines emergent Christianity as "an effort by a particular people in a particular time and place to respond to the gospel as it (once again) breaks through the age-old crusts. And it's the shifting tectonics of postmodernism that have caused the initial fissure" (p.37). Some of those who vigorously oppose movements like emergent Christianity may simply not recognize that emergent Christianity is not a capitulation to culture, but is a Gospel-informed response to the questions, concerns and presuppositions embedded within the culture of postmodernity. Of course, some might argue that emergent Christianity is not grounded on the "Gospel," as they understand it. But it would be difficult, on the basis of Jones' book, to make the case that what impels the New Christians is a hetero-Gospel. Rather, what the reader discovers here is a critical response to the particular way that culture and Christianity have been conflated in the evangelical church during the twilight of modernity. And, as Jones' persuasively argues, it is precisely their adherence to the Gospel and their allegiance to Jesus which drives them to do faith, church and witness differently. Emergents do not wish to be either liberals or fundamentalists (both of which are captive to modernist epistemology), but faithful Jesus-followers in their particular context.

Narrative Theology - Just do it!

2009-03-10T08:47:00.000-07:00

The following is a write-up on a Narrative Theology course I'll be teaching this summer. I'd love for as many of you Bethel students as are interested to sign up! It should be a good time:

Narrative Theology

God. Story. Community.

Is your theology stale and propositional? Is it individualist and modernist? Then you need a narrative theology facelift. Narrative theology (also sometimes called "post-liberalism") is, in part, based on a conviction that at the heart of biblical faith are stories about God and God's relationship to his people. Rather than attempt to construct a coherent set of "timeless," eternally valid propositions, theology should be deeply attuned to the variety, the complexity and the configurations of these stories. But narrative theology isn't just the recognition that the Bible contains lots of stories. Rather, it is based on the assumption that the way we think, understand ourselves, worship, and theologize most effectively is by telling and embodying stories in communities. The "narrative turn" in theology during the last half of the 20th century is, admittedly, not as new as it seems. Numerous theologians throughout history have recognized that theology should be driven by story, that the story of the Bible is passed on to us through communities of faith, and that dynamic rationalities are storied epistemologies. This course will cover historical precursors to what is now known as the discipline of Narrative Theology through writings of St. Augustine, Karl Barth, Richard Niebuhr and Hans Frei. We will then engage the writings of more recent and current "players" in the movement, such as George Lindbeck, Paul Holmer, Stanley Hauerwas and-on the "post-conservative" side of the discussion-Kevin Vanhoozer. Attention will also be given to influence of the philosophy of language on narrative theology through the works and influence of Ludwig Wittgenstein and Paul Ricoeur. Finally, the course will explore the relation between NT and current expressions of both feminist and evangelical theologies.

Pietism Conference at Bethel University

2009-03-02T06:45:00.001-08:00

March 19-21, 2009

From intellectual inquiry to spiritual practice to social reform, Pietism has exerted an enormous influence on various forms of Trans-Atlantic Christianity, and on Western culture more generally. However, this contribution remains largely unacknowledged or misunderstood because some negative stereotypes—some undeserved, others deserved—cast Pietism as a quietistic, sectarian religion that is interested primarily in a narrow set of concerns.

The goal of this conference is to provide scholars from all traditions an opportunity to explore the many dimensions of the pietist heritage, with a view to understanding the ongoing relevance of the "pietist impulse" for contemporary problems and questions across disciplines.

Plenary Speakers:

Donald Dayton: Author of Discovering an Evangelical Heritage
Emilie Griffin: Author of Doors into Prayer
Shirley Mullen: President, Houghton College
Roger Olson: Professor of Theology, Truett Theological Seminary, Baylor University
Jonathan Strom: Associate Professor of Church History, Candler School of Theology, Emory University

* The above is taken from Bethel University's website.

I will also be doing a paper at the conference entitled: "The Living Church and the Living Word: Kierkegaard and Grundtvig on the Locus of Revelation."

Get your tickets now, you won't want to miss it!

Don't Squeeze the Cottenelle: Or, "Would You Switch Denominations Before you Switched Toilet Paper?"

2009-02-16T20:44:00.001-08:00

Tomorrow I'll be speaking, along with Dr. Michael Slusser, a Catholic theologian and priest, to a ministerial fellowship in Fairbault on the topic of "Ecumenism: How it Affects Our Churches and Ministries" (or something along those lines.) We'll be centering our discussions around a 2008 Pew Forum "Religious Landscape Study" which concluded that American religious life is "both very diverse and very fluid." The study surmises: “Looking only at changes from one major religious tradition to another (e.g., from Protestantism to Catholicism, or from Judaism to no religion), more than one-in-four U.S. adults (28%) have changed their religious affiliation from that in which they were raised." The numbers get even higher when the switch happens within a major religious tradition. Reinforcing the Pew study, the Ellison Research firm released findings which showed that Americans are more likely to switch their denominational affiliation than to switch their toilet paper brand. Many are less likely to go from Charmin to Cottonelle (or Crest to Colgate) than from Methodist to Catholic. There are a good many denominations to choose from, even in smaller town like Fairbault, and many folks may not know much--or care that much--about the differences (in particular the historical and theological differences) between them. George Lindbeck's famous insight that, at a sociological level, doctrines function like "language games," serving to distinguish denominations from each other while allowing ecumenical fellowship around other important points of commonality (such as ethical issues) may be reaching a breaking point. The distinctiveness of each denomination's language games may be blurring away recognizable boundaries, allowing for a free and easy switch of church membership and involvement.

The question this phenomenon raises, as Dr. Slusser puts it, is whether this is a good thing or a bad thing--and why? Does this change reflect a move in a positive direction? Does it suggest that people are willing to jump denominational ships in order to experience personal spiritual transformation? (i.e. that they are perceptive consumers of what brings them spiritual health?). Does it suggest that denominations are enough alike that such switching is relatively easy? Or, does it suggest that our churches are losing the ability to state clearly--and within historical continuity--our doctrinal and liturgical distinctives? Or, if they can state them clearly, that they are unable to convince their adherents to commit to them--at least not more so than they're committed to Crest or to Cottonelle?

What about you? Do you embrace the "fluidity" of American religious and denominational identity or do you think it is course that needs correcting?

"Do You Have a Theology for This?" (Reflections from My Time in India)

2009-02-05T11:43:00.000-08:00

Since my return from India, several people have asked for a summary of my reflections on that visit. The two primary things that stood out to me while in India and have since my return are: (1) The abject and widespread poverty under which so much of India suffers daily, and (2) the intricate ways in which religion, ideology, society and culture intermingle.

My first trip into the city was an abrupt and startling introduction to the abject poverty of India. India is now the largest democracy in the world, but it's said that one-third of the world's poor live there. Estimates suggest that 75% of Indians live on less that $2.00 a day. Travel through the streets of Hyderabad and you'll find many people living in tents or lean-to's on little parcels of grabbed-up land on the sides of the main roads. If they're not so lucky, they sleep under the bare cover of night--with a ragged blanket--on the hard ground.

On our first trip into the city, my colleague Wilbur Stone (global and contextual studies prof), turned to me and asked: "Do you have a theology for this?" That became the burdensome question of the week for me--and still is my question. How do I as a theologian, or more to the point, as a Christian, think about the intersection of God, the Missio Dei, and God's future for the world with such widespread and deeply troubling circumstances of life. To me it's a troubling but temporary spectacle--to many Indians it's just a way of life. It should be noted that India's is one of the few national economies to actually see positive growth in the past year. Nonetheless, the increasing numbers of the poor outpace its financial and material progress.

The caste system in India which, since the establishment of the Indian constitution in 1950 is no long formally in place, secured discrimination as a (more-or-less) accepted reality. Your lot in life is determined by your family of origin, ethnicity, etc. The Dalit or the "no-caste" population were considered "untouchables." They had little-to-no rights in society. For the most part, they were supposed to simply accept their place in life as given by God. Mahatma Ghandi worked hard to elevate the social status and to improve the possibliities for upward mobility of these no-caste peoples. They were children of God too and should be viewed as equal persons.

Christianity has found its most fertile soil in India among the Dalits. My favorite experience of the week was listening to a Dalit theologian speak to our class about the importance and necessity of contextualizing Christ for and within human experience. Here was a man who came from the "no-caste" group, who had found in Jesus a friend and a liberator. Jesus was an "out-caste" who had no place to lay his head, but who came to set the captive free from oppression(Luke 4). No wonder Christ has captivated the imagination of the Dalits.

In any case, I return from India convinced more than ever that Christianity needs to be engaged in the difficult but rewarding task of thinking about the intertwining of context, ideology, society and theology. Christians also need to continue to think hard about what God wants us to be doing in the face of economic hardship around the globe and in our cities and towns. More deeply, what does the Gospel calls us as individuals and as churches to do for the world around us? And what does it call us to learn from that world? Do we have a theology for that?

Contextual Theologizing in India

2009-01-22T12:43:00.000-08:00

I'm heading to India (Hyderabad) tonight to co-teach a Doctor of Ministry course for Bethel called "Contextual Theologizing." This is a topic I've become very interested in over the past several years, and to have students who are working and ministering in various parts of the globe converge to discuss the intersection of context, culture, language and theology in a setting like that will be stimulating. I'm also looking forward to hearing from and dialoguing with Hindu, Muslim and Christian leaders from the area. In case anyone is interested, I'll post a "report" after my return.

Oh yeah, and can you guess my favorite new movie?

Martin Luther King Jr. and the Colony of Heaven

2009-01-19T13:53:00.000-08:00

Good theology can awaken us from the slumbers of self-indulgence, ethnocentrism, and dogmatic “sleepiness” that prevents us from seeing God’s work in the world and among the marginalized. Anders Nygren once wrote that “no age lives without inarticulate, self-evident presuppositions.” By “inarticulate” he meant that “men do not perceive the self-evident presuppositions by which their own age lives.” The problem of inarticulate presuppositions has been with Christianity since its beginning—at times with disastrous results. From the life-denying, death-cultivating crusades of the middle ages to the humanity-destroying endorsement, explicit or implicit, of the slavery trade in colonial America, to the silence and even support of the German established Church in the atrocities of Nazi Germany, to the origination and development of that oppressive Apartheid system in South Africa by the white Reformed church, inarticulate presuppositions have facilitated, enabled, or otherwise contributed to the squelching of Christian witness in the world.

Closer to home, a little over 40 years ago (1963), in a prison cell in Birmingham, Alabama, Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote a letter to a group of southern, white clergyman who had criticized the non-violent resistance of King’s Southern Christian Leadership Conference. His letter, from that jail cell is startling in its prophetic punch:

"I have been so greatly disappointed with the white church and its leadership…I do not say that as one of the negative critics who can always find something wrong with the church. I say it as a minister of the gospel, who loves the church; who was nurtured in its bosom; who has been sustained by its spiritual blessings and who will remain true to it as long as the chord of life shall lengthen…There was a time when the church was very powerful…they went on with the conviction that they were a “colony of heaven.” And had to obey God rather than man. They were small in number but big in commitment. They were too God-intoxicated to be “astronomically intimidated….Things are different now. The contemporary church is often a weak, ineffectual voice with an uncertain sound. It is so often the arch-supporter of the status quo. Far from being disturbed by the presence of the church, the power structure of the average community is consoled by the church’s silent and often vocal sanction of things as they are…If the church of today does not recapture the sacrificial spirit of the early church, it will lose its authentic ring, forfeit the loyalty of millions, and be dismissed as an irrelevant social club with no meaning for the twentieth century"

The institution of slavery in our country is abolished, but not so racial, ethnic, economic, and even theological injustice. Theological injustice remains when we, who represent the “wealth-majority,” do not listen to voices from the margins with sincerity, inviting those voices to help us identify our false ideologies and deconstruct them, This isn’t to say that all of our presuppositions are evil or even wrong and it isn’t to say that other contextual perspectives are blameless and infallible; sin (and noetic fallibility) cuts through us all. But ideological commitment does not necessarily equate with faithfulness to Christ and theological truth. The time for ideology has passed; the time for theological and contextual engagement has come. Inter-contextual dialogue uproots inarticulate presuppositions, and allows for either affirmation or correction.

The splendid timing of tomorrow's inauguration of Barack Obama, coinciding so closely with the celebration of Martin Luther King Jr., gives us reason to be thankful, but also hopeful, that diversity and equality will finally overtake pride and bigotry in our nation. May this also be an opportunity for evangelical theology to unite the liberative Gospel of God with the rich tapestry of contextuality, working toward the fruits of freedom from the bondage of both sin and oppression. May the church work again at being a "God-intoxicated colony of heaven" with Christ as our guide and redeemer.

A Provocative Thought from Kierkegaard at Christmastime

2008-12-18T09:27:00.001-08:00

"A childish orthodoxy...has also managed to draw decisive attention to the fact that Christ at his birth was wrapped in rags and laid in a manger--in short, on the humiliation of his coming in the humble form of a servant, and believes that this is the paradox in contrast to coming in glory. Confusion. The paradox is primarily that God, the eternal, has entered into time as an individual human being. Whether this individual human being is a servant or an emperor makes no difference. It is not more adequate for God to be a king than to be a beggar; it is not more humiliating for God to become a beggar than to become an emperor." - CUP

It's a provocative and, in some ways, counter-intuitive thought. We're so used to emphasizing the humble entrance of the Logos into human history by highlighting the circumstances of the story: single mother, from Nazareth, born in a manger, "no-place-to-lay-his-head," etc., that we forget about the "infinite qualitiative distinction" between time and eternity which implies that, no matter how God became incarnate into history and creation, it would be an absolute paradox.

Agree or disagree?

History of Christian Thought: 19th and 20th Centuries

2008-12-18T06:40:00.000-08:00

As my sabbatical draws, jarringly, to a close, I'm beginning to anticipate, not only the Christmas holiday coming up, but next quarter as well. I'm looking forward to co-teaching a couple of courses, one of which (Contextual Theologizing) I'll say more about another time. The other is History of Christian Thought: 19th and 20th centuries, with Chris Armstrong, Bethel Seminary's premiere (and only) Church Historian. For your viewing pleasure I've posted here the list of primary source readings we put together (along with the help of our superb T.A.'s Dave Mowers and Michael Cline). After reading the selections on this list, I'd say there is a good chance you'll have a decent grasp of the overlay of modern and contemporary theology. (The order of the list is a bit hodge-podge, for the moment).

who's laughing now? Peter Shiff, "Prophet of Doom"

2008-12-10T08:43:00.000-08:00

Watch this video. Peter Schiff, president of Euro Pacific Capital and economic advisor to Ron Paul in 2008, predicts, with precision, the credit, housing and Wall Street markets, while he is scoffed and derided by counter-pundits. He must be feeling pretty good these days for standing up for what he believed to be true. (Thanks, Doug Johnston, of Wheaton football fame, for the link)

How Much do Angels Know?

2008-12-08T12:01:00.000-08:00

Someone recently asked me an interesting question about angels: How much do they know? Were they/Are they automatically privy to information about God's salvation plan, since they "reside" in heaven with God?

The context of the question is Luke 2, when the angel of the Lord appears to the shepherds and announces the birth of the Messiah in Bethlehem. Obviously the angel has some information that had been divinely granted to her (or him). That story raises the question as to whether the angels are always in the "inner circle" of information, or whether they, as divine messengers, are granted just the knowledge that they need at the time to pass along God's message. I'm very much inclined toward the latter option. The apostle Peter tells us that "even angels long to look into these things" (1 Peter 1:12). "These things" are the story of the Gospel, including the salvation that the Messiah would bring to the world and the "Messianic woes" he (and his people--Israel/the "suffering servant" and the church) would have to undergo. Perhaps, then, the angels receive just enough information about God's salvation plan to do God's bidding as messengers to humanity--and just enough to be intrigued about what God is up to next.

talking about kierkegaard on theology soup

2008-11-25T05:55:00.000-08:00

I recently enjoyed a little conversation with the guys over at "theology soup" ( theologysoup.wordpress.com) about Kierkegaard and a book I am currently writing (with Myron Penner) which relates Kierkegaard's thought to postmodernism and the emerging church. They (Peter Herzog, Joseph Rueter and Dan Kent) were enjoyable conversation partners and asked perceptive questions. We had some good laughs along the way. Check it out here.

Take a Trip Down "The Road"

2008-11-19T19:12:00.000-08:00

I don't read as much fiction as I used to, but I was recently sucked in by Cormac McCarthy's The Road. It's a haunting, moving and thought-provoking portrayal of a world without God which has reached its end. It's the apocalypse for atheists, a reminder that one doesn't need Hal Lindsey to imagine what a world after this world would be like, where the spring of life is hidden beneath the shadow of night, and where death and hopelessness cover the earth like the Spirit of creation inverted. When one awakens from the dark dreamy world of "The Road," and remembers that the future does not lie outside of God, hope springs up again. But a glimpse of this bleaker future makes John's apocalypse shine that much brighter.

The Road isn't all black and dreary. The light that shines forth from the narrative comes from the beauty of a father and son whose grip on hope is bound up with their hold on each other: each is the "other's world entire." Their relation to each other is primal and true, precisely because all else is stripped away. In a desolate place, beauty and truth and goodness can still be, not so much found, but made--forged, as from scalding iron. They fix their faith onto each other and in so doing, stay true to the promise. In spite of all else, as death crowds in around them, they stick to the pact to be "the good guys," believing that there are others out there like them.

"Filling Up What is Lacking in the Sufferings of Christ"

2008-11-17T06:22:00.000-08:00

I'm looking forward to preaching for Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary's (Kansas City, MO) chapel tomorrow (Tuesday, 18th) morning, from Colossians 1:24-28. I've titled the sermon "The Missional Pastor and the Mystery of Christ." I often find that when I set out to choose what to teach or preach, I gravitate toward an idea or text that is unique, perplexing, or confusing, so that I can use the experience to try to learn something new. That's definitely the case here. What can Paul possibly mean when he says, "and in my flesh I do my share on behalf of His body, which is the church, in filling up what is lacking in Christ's afflictions." First of all, how could there be any "lack" in the afflictions of Christ? Second of all, how could Paul presume to be "completing," or "filling up" that lack?

In any case, if this little teaser makes you curious enough, and you live in the K.C. area, come on over to MBTS chapel (at 10:00 am).

Call + Response: A Rockumentary About Sex-Trafficking

2008-10-14T06:44:00.000-07:00

This looks like something that will be hard to watch but important to see. There are more slaves now than at any other point in history. How can this be?

For those of you in the Twin Cities, the movie will be showing from Oct. 17-23 at:

AMC ARBOR LAKES
12575 Elm Creek Blvd.
Maple Grove, MN 55369

check out the movie details here: http://www.callandresponse.com/home.html

The Strange Silence of the Bible

2008-10-09T12:13:00.001-07:00

I've been doing a little research lately for a course I'm teaching next summer called "Narrative Theology." George Stroup, in The Promise of Narrative Theology, begins his text by describing the "identity crisis" of Christianity (in the early 1980's) in the face of a burgeoning religious, cultural and social pluralism. Oddly, most Christians (and most churches) proclaim their unfailing adherence to the Bible's authority, but have lost the ability and/or will to actually use the Bible as a central component of the church's liturgy and life.

This is a phenomenon I have noticed for many years. Even within my own evangelical tradition, which prizes and proclaims the Bible's authority, and upholds the doctrines of biblical inerrancy and infallibility (the Bible is completely true in everything it teaches), many churches and many Christians seem to have lost both the facility and the will to use the Bible effectively and often in worship, preaching and life. Many have just given up! I recall in the conservative Baptist seminary I attended, one chapel speaker after another waving the Bible in the air, proclaiming, with as much bravado as they could muster, the Bible's inerrancy but then completing disregarding it or atrociously misusing it in their sermons. Karl Barth once referred to the "strange new world" of the Bible; it may be that the "stranger" the biblical world sounds to our technological, modern ears, the less of a central role the biblical witness may play in the formation and transformation of the Christian life and the Church. But this would be a tragedy that could lead to the loss of the heart of the Christian faith itself. And surely it does not need to be the case. We can neither retreat from the twenty-first century nor neglect the story of God from ancient days. But herein lies the challenge.

So here are some questions: In your own life, what challenges do you face in giving the Bible a genuinely central and authoritative role? In your church experience, how is the Bible "used"? Does your church's actual use of the Bible match its proclamation of biblical authority?

Dancing this good must be sinful

2008-09-11T11:34:00.000-07:00

Pay special attention to the moonwalk at 1:57. Fantastic.

"The Dark Knight" and the Final Scapegoat: Or, When Batman Meets Girard

2008-09-03T07:05:00.000-07:00

Some films utilize philosophical and theological themes as a way of adding a little substance, some reflective moments, to a plot which could just as well do without it. Christopher Nolan's "The Dark Knight" is different: He weaves into the fabric of the narrative explorations of the nature of humanity and reflections on the possibilities for the future of our society in a context characterized by pessimism about the future and by an always latent fear of "the other." The implications of this fear are intensified by the faulty assumption that violence can only be overcome by violence.

No philosophical theme is more obvious in The Dark Knight than the pervasive allusions to Nietzsche's Uebermensch, (the "over-man"), that ideology-buster who spurns all social rules and expectations, throws all caution to the wind, and deconstructs the falsely erected boundaries through which the powerful elite (and their imposed rules of behavior) try to subdue the spark, creativity and strength of the primal human will. Ledger's "The Joker," plays Nietzsche's Uebermensch to perfection. Unlike everyone else in the narrative, the Joker has no "plan." His behavior is beholden only to the strength of his own primal passions; his only objectives being the release of instinct, the unleashing of chaos through violence, and ultimately, the deconstruction of society's illusion that safety and predicability can be secured through the rule of law. He does this by erecting situations in which people must choose between their own will to survive (primal, human instinct) and their (socially constructed) desire to prolong the lives of others. The Joker's faulty assumption is that altruism (beneficent concern for the welfare of others) will always give way to egoism when a life is confronted with the possibility of its elimination.

On the theological side of things, Renee Girard, a philosophical anthropologist whose work has influenced many contemporary theologians, explored the role of sacrifice in the formation and sustenance of human cultures. Girard proposed that human cultures employ ritual violence as a way of channeling their collective violence, alleviating their own guilt and as a way of subduing violent conflict within their own communities. When violence and chaos erupts, someone (or some thing) must pay the price. The "scapegoat" then serves as a kind of canvass upon which the guilt and anger of a community can be laid. And as a result, the collective violence of the community is subdued--for the time being. In Biblical terminology, the scapegoat becomes the "expiation" for the sins of the people, and those sins are "expiated" when the animal is rejected from the community and sent out to die (or slaughtered in ritual sacrifice).

In The Dark Knight, Harvey Dent (the district attorney and, as the "White Knight," symbol of all that is good in humanity) and Batman take turns serving as scapegoat for Gotham. Each manifests their willingness to "be whatever Gotham needs them to be," in order to bring an end to violence and, simultaneously, to appease the wrath and guilt of the community. Batman, of course, is the "final scapegoat" of the narrative. The final appeasement of Gotham's anger--and, presumably, the end of the cycle of violence (for a time, anyway)--occurs through the ritualized destruction of the bat symbol. It turns out that Batman is no "superhero" at all. A true hero is singled out from within a society as the very best (strongest, brightest, bravest, etc.) that society has to offer. A hero is, while one of us, the best of us. Batman recognized he had to be "more than a hero"; he would become a scapegoat in order to bear the shame and anger of the people, and to bring about peace. He would be the "Dark Knight," rather than the "White Knight" (read: Harvey Dent).

While this diverges from the plot of the film, one is reminded here of Jesus of Nazareth in the Gospels, who as Girard points out, serves as the "Final Scapegoat." His sacrifice served to put an end to the usefulness of the scapegoat model as the way to eliminate violence and guilt. In taking guilt, anger and sin upon himself, his sacrifice declared an end for the need for ritual violence and, most importantly, it exposed the scapegoat function as fundamentally mistaken and misguided. The object of sacrifice is not deserving of punishment, exile or death. The object of sacrifice is, in fact, a victim (and not, for Girard, the object of God's wrath). Rather than seeking to perpetuate the sacrificial system, the Gospels then proclaim that, on the basis of the Christ-event, the sacrificial system is now null and void. The cycle of violence can (and should) end.

If I Were a "Futurist"...

2008-08-20T09:32:00.001-07:00

I would prophesy that the award for "most effective church" in the very near future will go to the one that successfully (and intentionally) integrates digital technology and social media into the life of its community.

How many of you stay in better communcation with your Facebook friends than with the people you know (or don't know) from your church? Facebook, MySpace, and blogging are facilitating the establishment and cultivation of "presence" in ways that the modern church simply cannot. As my friend and personal design/technology guru Joe Rueter (who got me thinking about this in the first place) puts it, social media is enabling us to create for ourselves a massive but personal, "digital porch."

In one quick glance at my Facebook page, I can see what my friends (some of whom I haven't seen in person in 15 years) are doing or thinking--or at least what they say they are doing or thinking. I'm notified of birthdays, job searches, baby or wedding announcements, and disappointments or accomplishments of various sorts. Think of it: A church that incorporates technology to facilitate the connection of the lives of its people. I'm not an advocate of "internet church," which runs against the biblical norm of church as a personal meeting in a physical place for worship, prayer, healing and mutual accountability. Rather, digital and social media should be utilized as a complement to what the church is already doing. Pastors could utilize blogs to inform the congregation of what he or she will be preaching or teaching about--and to solicit ideas or suggestions for future topics. Or blogs could serve as forums for discussion of implications and applications from sermons, Bible studies, and the like.

Who knows what all of this would look like, or what shape it would take in your own church community. But I suspect that the more technology and digital media ingratiates itself in the lives of people, the more inevitable the integration into church will become. Why not jump on it now?

How many of you are in churches that are already utilizing such technology? How are they/you doing it? Is it working? Is it changing things (for better or worse)?

Kierkegaard Painting by Steph Roberts

2008-08-08T02:24:00.000-07:00

Where on the New Heavens and New Earth is Matt?

2008-07-22T09:35:00.000-07:00

Then I saw "a new heaven and a new earth," for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Look! God's dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. 'He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death' or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. (Rev. 21:1-4)

The Gospel According to Wall-E

2008-07-06T11:36:00.000-07:00

After seeing the movie last night, my sweet and sassy wife challenged me to write a review about Wall-E. Since I've become increasingly more convinced that our current pop culture mediums have become our Athens, our "marketplace of ideas," and that theologians must thoughtfully, openly and critically engage pop culture, I decided to take up her suggestion.

The underlying message of Wall-E is that humanity is destroying its own habitat. Like so many homes heading toward foreclosure, we are letting our global house fall apart. The culprit is greed, materialism, sloth, and, in general, ecological irresponsibility and apathy toward planet earth. Simply put, in our quest for the "good life," we are amusing ourselves to death and, like the proverbial frog in the boiling pot, lack the perspective and will to notice. With every laptop and television tossed in the bin, our rubbage piles higher and the end of the world as we know it draws closer--but we feel fine.

That's Wall-E's message. But the Gospel of Wall-E, its "Good News," is that things don't have to end that way. Humanity can awaken to the impending destruction of our habitation, and to our propensity to excess, our greed, our laziness, and our avarice. We can stop the bleeding and turn things around. The single, green plant discovered by "Eve," signals hope in the face of despair. Life can be saved and preserved. But we will have to find ways to cultivate, rather than denigrate, the Earth.

The genius of Wall-E is that it tells this big, heavy underlying message through a more accessible, smaller story of robot love. The clunky but cute mobile trash compacter falls head-over-wheels for the stunning but equally terrifying vegetation collector. During his sojourn as the last, lonely robot on earth, Wall-E has evolved to the point that he is not only sentient, but relational; he wants to find love. Through his naive, awkward but endearing perseverance, he wins the affection of the beauty (and, simultaneously, of the viewer). The Gospel of Wall-E is presented through a form that is neither preachy nor disconnected from the other story it tells. In fact, the underlying story only makes a certain kind of sense in the light of the more accessible one.

A side note: In a Theology and Science course I taught recently, I received a paper from a student on "robot intelligence and the image of God." As I found myself caring for Wall-E (and in a derivative way, for Eve), I was reminded of the question this student asked: As the already stunning advancements in robotic intelligence increase, what will ultimately distinguish robots from human beings? What is the "imago Dei" that sets human beings apart from other forms of intelligence? But I leave that question for another time.

While Wall-E succeeds on so many levels, its primary flaw lies in the reductionism which only shakily supports its narrative. For one thing, the story suggests that the "habitable" status of planet Earth depends entirely on the extent to which "big business" (e.g. Wall-Mart, Best Buy--ostensibly represented in the film as "Buy and Large") has its way with the American consumer. But really, let's be honest: who of us really thinks that the fate of our future lies in the hands of Best Buy--or even of American consumerism? And, is Wall-Mart really so evil? Are they really out to "get us"? Furthermore, while the two are certainly related, isn't global warming a more imminent and ominous threat than material excess as such? And more practically, who of us really wants to do without many of the conveniences such businesses provide? Finally, the film's ending suggests that rescuing the planet after it has become uninhabitable is a simple task. Just find a fertile spot in between land-fill skyscrapers, plant some seed and, after a while you get "pizza trees."

In theology today, worries about the future of our planet are no longer reserved for fantastical, dispensational "end times" theologies. As Moltmann has noted, the destruction of the world, either largely at our own (human) hands or at the hands of evil beyond that of our own, must increasingly be recognized as a possibility--and thus a topic of urgency--for theology generally. The foreseeable elimination of life as we know it makes eschatology all the more a profound and relevant discipline. And it makes hope in Christ as the solution to the follies of humanity and to our global situation all the more urgent.

But let's recall that, in the Bible, the mission of Christ is often accomplished through his body, the church (ecclesia). That is, we cannot simply assume that Christ will do his redemptive work apart from the willing agency of his disciples. We are invited to contribute to that mission, and we cannot assume that its fulfillment is not contingent, in some way, upon our energetic response.

Nonetheless, it's good to be reassured that God's "got the whole world in his hands," and that Christ, the agent of creation, is also, as the eternal Word (Logos) and Wisdom (Sophia) charged with the task of sustaining it. That's the Gospel message that reaches beyond the story of Wall-E. It's the "meta-narrative" of the redemption of humanity and of the cosmos. It sets Wall-E's Gospel, true though it may be, in the larger context of Jesus' Gospel and of the future which God has in store for humanity as uniquely the bearers of God's image. But Wall-E's Gospel reminds us that there is a story of human responsibility within the over-arching narrative of the history of the world. And perhaps an apocalyptic urgency as well.

"Why Kierkegaard Can Help Us"

2008-06-18T09:04:00.000-07:00

During my senior year of college (Wheaton, IL), I was introduced to Søren Kierkegaard's religious philosophy. As happens with many people, the first book of his I read was Fear and Trembling. While it's his most "famous" work, and the book most associated with his name, it's probably one of his more perplexing books. Nonetheless, it drastically re-oriented my thinking about faith and Christianity.

I had recently experienced an "epistemological crisis," of sorts; wondering whether Christianity was true after all, whether my faith was real (or just a hand-me-down), and whether, in fact, I could be confident that any of my beliefs matched reality. Kierkegaard helped me understand that faith, by its very nature, is meant to involve struggle. Doubt is and integral part of faith. Doubt is not necessarily sin. God does not want us to flounder in unbelief and apathy. He wants to stimulate in us the passion of conviction. Conviction is very different, though, from certainty. While someone who is certain can be passionate (and they often are, to disastrous results), the believer who is confident and convinctional about their beliefs is not as easily tempted toward dogmatism and is not as prone to making idols of their conceptions of God, their interpretations of Scripture, and their approach to the Christian life. They also make room for the convictions, beliefs, and distinctive "angularity" (particular shape of their humanity, or their "self") of others--even if they aren't persuaded by them.

The authentic, passionate, convictional believer is out "on 30,000 fathoms of water," and is better positioned to trust in God rather than in their own conceptions of God, their own ideologies (read: idols).

Kierkegaard helped me then (in 1995) and he still helps me today. That's why I'm glad to have the opportunity this Sunday (5:30 pm) to speak on the topic, "How Kierkegaard Can Help Us," at the Soulstice Service of Berean Baptist Church (309 County Road 42 E Burnsville, MN 55306). If you're in the area, come by and check it out. And if you bring in this add, you'll get 5$ off.

Is the "Good Life" an American Entitlement?

2008-06-06T15:07:00.000-07:00

With the price of gasoline racing toward $4.00/gallon, and recent reports of oil prices reaching $150/barrel, many Americans are panicking. But why should we not panic when our increasingly stentorian media dutifully and daily stokes the fire of our impending economic doom? In the face of this increasing threat to our personal independence, some take the drastic measure of parking their cars and riding bicycles; others trade their Hummers for Rav-4s, or swap their Pathfinders for Priuses. For many Americans, our paradigm of entitlement is changing. It has to. Perhaps our perceived God-given, divinely sanctioned right to guzzle gasoline (and other resources) to our hearts content is not etched in eternal stone after all?

Theologian Jon Sobrino, in his prophetically powerful and incisive book Where is God? Earthquake, Terrorism, Barbarity and Hope argues that residents of the First World can no longer operate under the assumption that "the good life" is their divinely sanctioned, eternally elected lot in life--their "manifest destiny." This assumption, he writes, has served to justify and sustain the remarkable disparity between those who have and those who don't along ethnic, national, social and geographical lines. The "blessing of God" stamp has been used by many in the West to set themselves over those existing, or rather subsisting, on the margins and in the periphery. The profits and comforts of the rich (first world) have come in part through the taxation of the poor (third world).

In this time of economic gloom and doom, it's wise for those of us residents of the Empire (read: United States) to re-examine our perceived sense of entitlement for "the good life." Perhaps we will have to give up our SUV's, pay a little more for bananas, and generally cut short our habitual profligacy. But maybe it won't be so bad to bridge the divide between the haves and the have-nots, even if just for a season. In any case, it might give us a better sense of what heaven will be like.

I don't mean to minimize the struggle these difficult days mean for those living in the United States (or elsewhere in the West) who cannot pay their mortgage, cannot feed their children, and cannot fill their gas tanks to get to their jobs--or to find one.

But I don't think Sobrino's lesson is for them. It's for those of us who may have to loosen our grip a little on the American dream, in which reality is catching up to the fiction that life is meant to be easy and that no object of desire lies outside our reach. But reality can be hard for all of us to accept--especially for me. I like my Pathfinder.

Who Do You Say Jesus Is? A Contextual Christology Assignment

2008-05-25T11:23:00.000-07:00

Below is the final assignment I gave to my "Christological Studies Today" course. Why only let my paying students have all the fun. Why don't you take a shot at it yourself? After all, there is no more important question than, "Who do you say Jesus is?"

Throughout this course we have approached Christology intentionally through the lens of context. There are at least three operative, obvious contexts in the task of constructing a Christology: (1) the original historical and narrative context (inscribed in Scripture), (2) the post-biblical creedal interpretive context (Nicea-Constantinopolitan and Chalcedonian creeds), and (3) one's current theological, philosophical, cultural, political, ideological context.

The primary question of this paper is this: In light of the distinct challenges raised by all three (and more) of these contexts, how would you articulate your Christology? In short, "Who do you say Jesus is?"

Karl Barth: Hoping that Hell will be Empty

2008-05-23T05:43:00.001-07:00

For there is no good reason why we should forbid ourselves, or be forbidden, openness to the possibility that in the reality of God and man in Jesus Christ there is contained much more than we might expect and therefore the supremely unexpected withdrawal of that final threat…If we are certainly forbidden to count on this as though we had a claim to it…we are surely commanded the more definitely to hope and pray for it…to hope and pray cautiously and yet distinctly that, in spite of everything which may seem quite conclusively to proclaim the opposite, his compassion should not fail and that in accordance with his mercy which is “new every morning,” He “will not cast off forever” (Lam 3:22)

- Karl Barth CD, IV/3, pp.477-78

What do you think of Barth's assertion?

Was God Mad at Jesus? On Moltmann, Feminist and Evangelical Christology

2008-05-09T11:21:00.000-07:00

In my Christology class last week we discussed the theory of the atonement (in short: the meaning of the death of Jesus and its connection to our salvation). It has become rather popular in contemporary contextual theologies (e.g. some Feminist theologies) to dismiss any essential relation between God and the death of Jesus of Nazareth on the cross. Some have characterized atonement theories that incorporate God's intentionality in Golgotha and the crucifixion as "divine child abuse." It is inconceivable, some argue, that the God of love would subject God's own child to suffering and death to fulfill some higher purpose (e.g. to satisfy God's justice and procure salvation for humanity). If God is a non-violent God, then surely redemption would not be based on a violent act.

Jurgen Moltmann offers a hopeful alternative to the feminist critique of classical theism, without surrendering the traditional intuition that the death of Jesus was no surprise to God. In so doing, he upholds the mysterious, baffling, and inherently paradoxical nature of the Golgotha narrative. There are no easy answers here. God's hands do not appear sparkling clean. Neither, though, are there hints of the distant, immutable, impassible, heartless, disciplinarian Father God to which Feminist Christology rightly objects. Rather, God the Father suffers in and with the suffering of the Son. He suffers as the Father to the Son who hangs stretched in pain on the cross. He grieves as the Father of Israel for whom the Messiah dies, innocently but ignobly. There is nothing but paradox and agony here, and the only thing that holds the life of God together through the death of Christ is the empowering, enduring love of God in the Spirit.

As Moltman puts it:

"When Christian theologians do not accept what Jesus suffered from God, they are like Job's friends, not like Job himself. The contradiction between the Sonship of God and the forsakenness by God is a contradiction that cannot be resolved, either by reducing the divine Sonship or by failing to take the forsakenness seriously." (The Way of Jesus Christ).

Evangelicals would do well to unite aspects of Moltmann's trinitarian, narrative theology with the satisfaction atonement theories they hold so convictionally and, at some core level, rightly. It would allow the shape of the atonement presentation to listen and heed (to a degree) the critiques of feminist christologies without relinquishing the important insight that God's whole reality and life is implicated by the historical, universal and eschatological moment of the cross and resurrection.

How is the Gospel "good news" to the poor?

2008-05-05T12:51:00.000-07:00

Food for thought, served up by Jurgen Moltmann:

•"What does the gospel bring the poor? And when they are called blessed, as God’s fellow citizens, what does this offer them? Certainly not the end of hunger, and the wealth of a richly blessed life. But it does bring them a new dignity. The poor, the slaves, and the prostitutes are no longer the passive objects of oppression and humiliation; they are now their own conscious subjects, with all the dignity of God’s first children.”

(from The Way of Jesus Christ)

Liberation Theology, Allan Boesak and the Gospel

2008-05-02T13:19:00.000-07:00

Several weeks ago, coinciding with the anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr.'s untimely death, Allan Boesak gave several powerful addresses, sermons and lectures, at Bethel University. Boesak is often called the MLK, Jr. of South Africa for his personal sacrifice and efforts toward the abolishing of Apartheid and racism. He was, then, a fitting choice to challenge a student body with the implications of the Gospel for our culture.

Often in evangelical circles we speak of The Gospel as if it consists of four propositional statements alone: (1) God is just and righteous, (2) All persons have sinned against God. (3) God sent Jesus as the atoning sacrifice for our sins. (4) If people will repent of their sins, accept Jesus' sacrifice on their behalf, and turn to God in faith through Jesus they can have eternal life. Raised in an evangelical environment all of my life, I assumed that these four statements pretty much summed up the Gospel.

Boesak spoke passionately about "the Gospel," and how South African Black liberation theologians, following in the wake of Martin Luther King's efforts in our own country, attempted (and succeeded, for a time) to facilitate the explosion of the power of the Gospel in their economically and socially unjust society, which was structured around the systemic sin of racism.
His continual reference of "the Gospel" in this context impelled me to ask him a question during one of the Q&A times: Dr. Boesak, in your understanding, what, exactly, is "the Gospel"?

His answer was compelling in its brevity. He said (something like), "I'd rather give you Jesus's presentation of the Gospel, from Luke chapter 4:18:

The Spirit of the Lord is on me,
because he has anointed me
to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners
and recovery of sight for the blind,
to release the oppressed,
to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor.

The "Gospel" literally means "Good news." Boesak, like many liberation and contextual theologians, is pointing out that the message and hope of Jesus must apply to people's lives in the here and now, not just to eternal life out there (somewhere) off in the distance when we die. It is hard to read the Gospels honestly and not admit that Jesus has, in some sense, a "preference for the poor." He didn't come to pamper the rich and coddle high society. He brought hope, healing and liberation to the oppressed.

The recovery of this important aspect of the Gospel, however, needn't force us to lose sight of the work of Christ in the cross and resurrection. Ultimately, whether rich or poor, our hope does not lie in temporal goods (even those considered essentials for living; rather, our hope rests in Christ as the mediator of eternal life, granted through forgiveness of sins and adoption to the family of God. If we forget either side of the coin, we've missed the point of the whole. It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. But there is bondage, potentially, on both sides of death.

Recovering Divine Mystery through the Feminine Metaphor?

2008-04-24T10:57:00.000-07:00

"Feminist critique of patriarchal discourse is surfacing the false assumptions that underlie insistence on exclusively male symbols and thereby propelling new discovery of holy mystery which we call God."

Elizabeth Johnson, in her book, She Who Is, argues that the best spirit of classical theology, which had always prized the essential incomprehensibility (and illimitability--great word!) of God as divine mystery, can be recovered by attending to feminine metaphors and aspects of the divine reality. This requires, of course, that the experiences of women and their theological explorations be taken seriously. The recovery of the divine mystery and ultimately incomprehensibility of God will have several positive consequences: (1) a reminder that finite words, titles and pronouns can never refer, without remainder or approximation, to God and (2) the significance of the male experience will be equalized with and unified with that of women, thus effecting what Paul seems to have in mind with the "new creation" (neither male nor female, but all are one in Christ Jesus and (3) the legitimation of the female experience and the rightful humanization of woman as equal in God's creation and Kingdom.

Any thoughts?

Theological Exercise in Critical Thinking: Round 2

2008-04-16T05:55:00.001-07:00

Our first one was so much fun, let's try another:

Was Jesus really tempted?

Christian orthodoxy, since the formulation of the early creeds, has asserted that Jesus Christ was both fully God and fully human, possessing both natures “undivided” and “unconfused” in one person. It was necessary for our salvation, early Christians argued, that Jesus be both divine and human. Related to this conviction arose the question of whether it was possible for Jesus to sin. Some argue that because Jesus was fully human, he became “like us in every way” (Hebrews 2:17) and therefore must have been truly tempted (it was not a hypothetical or fiction) such that it was possible for him to sin. The fact that he did not sin (even though he could have) meant that his perfect obedience could be applied to and restore the imperfections of humanity. Others argue that because Jesus was fully God, he could not have actually sinned, because God cannot sin or be “tempted with evil” (James 1:13). They argue that if God cannot sin, and if Jesus was truly the Son of God incarnate, then surely Jesus could not have actually sinned, or he would have been shown not to be God. Furthermore, God’s plan of providing salvation for humanity through Jesus’ perfect obedience would have been nullified, revealing God to be impotent to fulfill his ultimate plan and desires. Jesus’ divine nature and the perfections of divinity ensured that Jesus would not have actually succumbed to temptation.

Questions:

Which position would you take and why?

If you argue that Jesus could have sinned, how could Jesus have been truly divine, had he actually sinned? If he had sinned, would that not have nullified our salvation, since he would no longer be the perfect sacrifice?

If you argue that Jesus could not have sinned, then in what way was Jesus truly tempted? Furthermore, in what way could we consider him to be an actual human being, and thus “like us in every way”?

Try it, you might like it: A Theological Exercise in Critical Thinking

2008-04-11T14:38:00.000-07:00

I know...it's not as fun as watching Kansas beat Memphis in overtime, but now that March Madness is well behind us, football season is a distant land far, far away, and only meaningless baseball games can fill the void, why not try your hand at some theological reasoning? I was recently asked to write a brief "case study" or scenario that could be used to assess critical thinking skills for seminary students. The first one is posted below. Try your hand at it. You just might like it. If you think the scenario (or questions that follow) could be improved, please offer any suggestions for modification:

Does God sanction violence and vengeance against others?

The book of Numbers tells us that God commanded Moses to “take vengeance on the Midianites for the Israelites” (Num 31), because they had cursed

Israel

and conspired to seduce the Israelites to worship their false gods rather than Yahweh.

Israel

obeyed God’s command and went to war against them, killing all Midianite men and all Midianite women who were not virgins. On the other hand, in the New Testament, Jesus (who, as God incarnate is the perfect image of God), commanded his disciples to not resist evil people, but to “turn the other cheek” (Matt 5:38) and to “love your enemies” and “do good to them” (Matt 5:44). There appears to be a fundamental discrepancy between God’s will and character as described in this Old Testament passage and his will and character as delineated in the New Testament. In response to this problem, many argue that, though there is a progression of revelation from the OT to the NT, God is always just when he commands that people take vengeance on the wicked or does so himself. Others respond that the ethic of the OT was superseded by Jesus’ interpretation of the law and his explication of God’s character. They conclude that God no longer commands or condones violence against others.

Questions for Reflection:

How should we understand the meaning of God’s command in the OT to commit what appears to be genocide, motivated by vengeance, given what Jesus commands in the New Testament?

In what sense is Num 31 still valid for Christians today? How does your interpretation intersect with your view of the Bible’s authority and nature (inspiration, inerrancy, etc.)

If you agree with the first perspective above (God is always just in taking life and commanding the taking of it), how do you explain Jesus’ non-violence against the apparent violence of God in the OT? Furthermore, how would a God who commands violence be understood as a God of love and mercy?

If you agree with the second position, in what way is the Old Testament still relevant for us today?

I'm an Uncle. Welcome to the world, Aedric Addington!

2008-02-25T18:54:00.001-08:00

There Will Be Blood: On Oil, Despair and Kierkegaard

2008-02-12T14:32:00.000-08:00

If there were an Oscar category for "Best Theological Portrayal of the Consequential Effects of Sin and Despair on the Self and its Relations to God, to Oneself, and to Others," There Will Be Blood would win it hands-down. Well, it might have some stiff competition from the Cohen brothers' recent masterpiece, No Country for Old Men, but since I haven't seen it I have to guess it would go to Blood. Last time I checked, though, the Oscars don't have that category, so it may have to settle for best picture, best actor, best cinematography, or some other lame, mundane award.

In any case, this stunning portrayal of the rise and fall of a turn of the 20th-century self-made millionaire oil tycoon puts you in a slight but steady choke-hold from the opening scene and kicks you in the gut at the end. The pain is well-worth the eight bucks. The film correlates Daniel Plainview's business and financial rise with his emotional and relational demise. As one reviewer has pointed out, it's a fascinating study of the dark underside of the American experiment and of the so-called "American dream."

I am most interested, though, in how the film captures and portrays that theological slippery snake called "sin." Fifty years or so before the fictitious Daniel Plainview struck silver and then an ocean of oil under western soil, S. Kierkegaard wrote that despair is the psychological side of sin. The life of sin begins with its innocent stage as anxiety, but eventually bubbles up, like the black soupy oil of Plainview's prosperity, as despair. For Kierkegaard, despair is the breakdown of the self, when a person cannot relate rightly to God, to oneself (what one is supposed to be), or to others. Sin (and despair) is primarily for Kierkegaard a relational category. It disrupts our humanity by disordering and destroying our relationships. Despair may at first be "hidden"-- that is, not recognized for what it is. Many of us are brilliantly skilled at hiding despair. We go along in life pretending that we like people, that we are comfortable with ourselves, and when the suspicion rises in us that we're living a lie, we squelch the sensation and fill up the gaps with entertainment. We simply amuse ourselves to apathy, and divulge in enough lighthearted pleasantries that it seems like all is well-enough with the world, with ourselves, and with our fellow human beings.

Plainview cuts through all of that as his hidden despair becomes increasingly revealed. In one of his more vulnerable moments, he says, "I look at people and I see nothing worth liking." Other than his son H.W., the only person he comes close to liking he kills. For the hardened oil man, relationships are merely instrumental in his rise to the top and people merely pawns in his game. Plainview is the "Uber-Mensch" whose power over others destroys even himself. The closest he comes to authentic relationality is in the context of his psychological war with the imposter-preacher Eli Sunday. In the end (spoiler alert), all Plainview wants is authenticity from Sunday. Just admit you're a crook and that God is a fantasy for weak minds. What Plainview doesn't realize is that, as straightforwardly authentic as he appears to be, he is not living a fully human life, because he has cut himself off from God and from others. Thus, while he is true to himself, he is not a true self. Not only has his despair destroyed his relationships with the people who want to love him (e.g. his son H.W.), but it has killed his spirit and turned him away from life altogether.

If there would be a sequel, one would hope that the despair which is no longer hidden is healed somehow through the very blood he spills. In a powerful nod to the Christ-event of the Gospels, Plainview exhales in exhaustion at the end: "It is finished." The shedding of blood has long signified within Christianity the chance at new life. Could despair turn to salvation? Could the "sickness that leads to death" (Kierkegaard) be healed through an ironic and tragic culmination of the depth of despair? When despair runs its full course it either leads to death (spiritual) or it reaches the end of the rope and grasps for help. From the Christian point of view, humanity's source for hope lies in the life, death, and resurrection of Christ. There we find the potential restoration of authentic relationality: to God, to oneself (what one is supposed to be), and to others.

theology in a postmodern context

2008-01-13T14:14:00.000-08:00

What is the role of theology in a postmodern world? In a context in which knowledge, and therefore "truth," is said to be largely (if not entirely?) shaped by historical, social, economic and geographical location of the subject (the knower), what merit and promise can theology claim for itself? This Wednesday at 4:00, I will be responding to a paper by Jim Beilby on this topic for our first "theology colloquium." I look forward to an invigorating, provocative and stimulating conversation on this important topic. If you're in the area, come check it out.

Fantasy Football Championship!

2007-12-12T05:28:00.000-08:00

One of the greatest highlights of this past fall, a not-so-close second to my October 6 marriage to Sara Flies, is the remarkable success of my fantasy football team. To be fair, the credit is shared with all involved, beginning with my beautiful wife Sara, team owner and CEO. Of course, it was a wise move on her part to bestow the day-to-day responsibilities of personnel and quality control upon yours truly, who has more time and energy for such blatant trivialities. I was more than happy to assume position of V.P. of Operations. In the first year of Lux Aeterna (google it) we saw the team reach the championship game. I credit a strategic trade (my Joseph Addai for Silas Morgan's Tony Romo) for our surge to the top. Wish us much luck (as if we need it) as we prepare for our final match-up against my father-in-law (maybe I should take a fall?) this weekend. Below is our team line-up. How in the world could this team not reach the final?

Tony Romo

, Dal QB

Phi

Sun 4:15

Jamal Lewis

, Cle RB

Buf

Sun 1:00

Selvin Young

, Den RB

@Hou

Thu 8:15

T.J. Houshmandzadeh

, Cin WR P

@SF

Sat 8:15

Randy Moss

, NE WR

NYJ

Sun 1:00

Chris Cooley

, Was TE P

@NYG

Sun 8:15

D/ST

Seahawks D/ST

, Sea D/ST

@Car

Sun 1:00

Shayne Graham

, Cin K

Press Release for Upcoming Evangelical/Liberal Dialogue

2007-10-30T11:37:00.000-07:00

(The following is a shameless plug)

United Theological Seminary Of The Twin Cities And Bethel Seminary Seek “Third Perspective” In An Evangelical/Liberal Dialogue.

Minneapolis, MN Tuesday, October 30, 2007 – Theologians from two Twin Cities seminaries—one with a liberal perspective and one with a conservative perspective—are joining forces to find a third perspective. Eleazar Fernandez, of United Theological Seminary, and Kyle Roberts, of Bethel Seminary, will lead a forum titled CAN WE TALK? AN EVANGELICAL/LIBERAL DIALOGUE on Thursday, November 8^th at 7:30. The topic of the forum is, “Does Christianity Have A Monopoly On Salvation?”

“No, it’s not a wrestling match between two theologians with different points of view,” laughed Roberts, assistant professor of systematic theology at Bethel Seminary. “I doubt anyone would benefit from that. It’s a theological discussion that aims to help each side come closer to the truth and therefore closer to each other. Even between diverse communities of faith like Bethel and United Theological Seminary—just a bike ride apart in the Twin Cities—dialogue about God and salvation can sometimes feel like watching the movie Babel or Lost in Translation. We believe meaningful conversation with persons different from us can help clear up an otherwise murky view. “

“I agree,” said Fernandez, professor of constructive theology at United. “I believe this form of dialogue is very important. It shows the wider world that we are committed to dialogical conversation and are willing to learn from each other. To engage in religious dialogue is a way to transcend the polarizing discourse so prevalent in our society. We hope in the dialogue, we discover ways to work with our differences and maximize our convergences for the sake of greater social well-being.”

The forum is open to the public and will be held in Bigelow Chapel at United Theological Seminary. There is a $10 fee. Those interested in attending should register at www.unitedseminary.edu, or call 651.255.6137.

Eleazar Fernandez is professor of constructive theology at United and an ordained minister in the United Church of Christ in the Philippines. He earned his M.Div. from Union Theological Seminary in the Philippines, his Th.M. from Princeton Theological Seminary, and his Ph.D. from Vanderbilt University . He is the author of Reimagining the Human: Theological Anthropology in Response to Systemic Evil.

Kyle Roberts is assistant professor of systematic theology at Bethel Seminary. Roberts earned his M.Div. at Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary and Ph.D. at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School. His dissertation was on Søren Kierkegaard’s understanding of the role of Scripture in the development of authentic selfhood.

For more information contact:

William Andrews – Marketing 612.220.3900
Cindi Beth Johnson 651-255-6137

For Immediate Release: October 30, 2007 9:00 AM CST

Anders Nygren on Evangelical Christianity

2007-09-14T12:55:00.001-07:00

The following citation is from Anders Nygren's Essence of Christianity, first published in 1960. It is amazing to read this in light of subsequent political and social developments within evangelical Christianity (namely, the establishment of the "Religious Right." We can be hopeful that in the years ahead, evangelicalism will resemble more what he describes here.

“Evangelical Christianity agrees with Luther’s view, and it too puts religion at the center of life. There is no moment in life which in itself falls outside the sphere of religion. Religion seeks to permeate everything—not by domination from without, like Catholicism, but by leavening from within. That is why Evangelical Christianity has no social or political program of its own to offer as an alternative to other forces which seek to construct society on another pattern. It is convinced that the Christian religion will transform social life, since it is the ultimate force in the universe. But it will not do so directly by setting up a Christian social and political program which it could try, from its own higher standpoint, to impose upon society from without. Harm is always done to Christianity when it is confused with a social movement.

The primary task of Christianity is purely religious—as Evangelical Christianity has fortunately never been able to forget. Its task is primarily to transform men, to fill their lives with eternal content. It is only by the roundabout way of this religious task that Christianity can succeed in working indirectly towards the transformation of social life. When it has created men filled with eternity, each one of whom serves God in his own vocation, there must inevitably be a gradual transformation and Christianization of society. Christianity has no completed programme suited to all times and circumstances. What it can do, however, is to set the circumstances, that vary so greatly from age to age, in the light of an eternity which is necessary and valid for them all alike; and it can create men who know how to solve the problems of their time with all the seriousness of eternity, men who in the very act of doing this stand in the presence of God as His servants." (67-68)

Catherine of Siena, to Pope Gregory XI, on returning to a humble and spiritual church

2007-09-06T09:22:00.000-07:00

Ah, what a shame this is! They [ministers] ought to be mirrors of freely chosen poverty, humble lambs, giving out the Church's possessions to the poor. Yet here they are, living in worldly luxury and ambition and pretentious vanity a thousand times worse than if they belonged to the world! In fact, many layfolk put them to shame by their good holy lives. But it seems supreme eternal Goodness is making us do under coercion what we haven't done for love. It seems he is permitting his bride to be stripped of prestige and luxury, as if to show that he wants holy Church to return to being poor, humble, and meek as she was in those holy early days, when she was concerned only with God's honor and the salvation of souls, taken up not with material things but with the spiritual. For ever since the Church has paid more attention to the material than to the spiritual, things have gone from bad to worse.

But take heart, father, and don't be afraid, no matter what has happened or may yet happen. God is doing it to make the Church perfect once again, so that lambs may feed in this garden instead of the wolves who are devouring the honor that belongs to God by stealing it for themselves.

Doubt, Faith, and Mother Theresa

2007-08-27T15:45:00.001-07:00

During the course of declaring Mother Theresa a Saint, the Catholic Church (and now most everyone) has discovered an astonishing truth: she was, after all, a human being.

The recent unveiling of her private correspondence show that the servant of Christ in Calcutta expressed doubt in the existence of God and in the presence of Christ. Toward the end of her life, she gave up prayer.

"Where is my faith?" she writes. "Even deep down … there is nothing but emptiness and darkness. ... If there be God — please forgive me."

"Such deep longing for God," she writes. "… repulsed, empty, no faith, no love, no zeal."

"What do I labor for?" she asks. "If there be no God, there can be no soul. If there be no soul then, Jesus, You also are not true."

Two groups of people are now jumping on these letters: conservative evangelicals and committed atheists. The latter seek to show that even the most heroic of our saints has the sense to disbelieve God but lacks the courage to liberate herself. The former seek to show that she had "religion" but not a "relationship." That is, she was convictional Catholic, but an unbeliever.

Both responses are fundamentally flawed.

First, to the triumphal atheist: Expressions of doubt by the faithful are not chinks in the armor of theism, but are authentic expressions of a real and vibrant theism. The God of Christianity is not, and never will be, a passive harmless object of mild-mannered believers. Rather, he lies beyond human ability to manipulate, control, or defend by human conceptuality. The true believer never has God absolutely within her grasp. He slips away, just when we think we've got him.

Secondly, to the conservative evangelical (and I am one): We must remember that true and living faith is an inward, active and restless thing. Faith is not characterized merely by consistent assent to a body of propositions; rather, faith is characterized by a life shaped by the contours of the life, death and rsurrection of Jesus himself. Faith is relational, dynamic, and calls for a continual relinquishment of our own ability to control our lives, even to control our belief. We believe, sometimes, on the strength of the absurd (Kierkegaard) and sometimes that means we may lack the strength to believe at all. Most importantly here it's good to remember that Christ's faithfulness to us is more significant than our faithfulness (or faithlessness) to him. That understanding is the foundation of a life lived in freedom to God and in response to the liberating power of the Gospel.

Finally, to all: Mother Theresa spent her adult life caring for the most destitute of the most hopeless. Who among us, were we to immerse ourselves in the deepest, darkest pit of suffering, would not be tempted to also ask, "Where is God?" It would be hard for her--as it would for us--to see that her life, in fact, was a powerful response to that very question. God was there, where she was, being the body of Christ to a suffering world.

Basil: An early postmodern deconstructionist

2007-08-14T12:16:00.000-07:00

Basil, the fourth century saint and theologian puts the predicament of religious knowledge this way: If you can't have certain knowledge of an ant, how can you expect to have certain knowledge of God?

"Let him expound the nature of the ant. Is its life sustained by breath and respiration? Is its body provided with bones? Is its framework braced with sinews and ligaments? Is the position of the sinews held secure by the covering of muscles and glands? Is the marrow stretched along the spinal vertebrae from the front of the head to the tail? Does it have a liver and a gall bladder near the liver; also kidneys, a heart, arteries and veins, membranes and cartilage? Is it hairless or covered with hair? Has it an uncloven hoof, or feet divided into toes? How long does it live? What is the manner of reproduction?...

Let him who boasts of the knowledge of things existing explain the nature of the ant...But, if you have not yet, by your investigation, understood the nature of the smallest ant, how can you boast that the incomprehensible power of God is clear to your mind?"

Ok, so we've advanced significantly in our understanding of the ant. But what of God? Is he any less inexplicable, regardless of our advance in knowledge of things tangible?

"These fundamentalists want to eat me up."

2007-07-10T10:58:00.000-07:00

The following is an excerpt from a letter Karl Barth wrote to Geoffrey Bromiley. It's his response to Christianity Today's request for answers to a series of questions posed by Gordon Clark, Fred Klooster, and Cornelius van Til.

Dear Dr. Bromiley,

Please excuse me and please try to understand that I cannot and will not answer the questions these people put.

To do so in the time requested would in any case be impossible for me. The claims of work in my last semester as an academic teacher (preparation of lectures and seminars, doctoral dissertations, etc.) are too great. But even if I had the time and strength, I would not enter into a discussion of the questions proposed.

Such a discussion would have to rest on the primary presupposition that those who ask the questions have read, learned, and pondered the many things I have already said and written about these matters. they have obviously not done this, but have ignored the many hundreds of pages in the CD where they might at least have found out--not necessarily under the headings of history, unversalism, etc.--where I really stand and do not stand. From that point they could have gone on to pose further questions. I sincerely respect the seriousness with which a man like Berkouwer studies me and then makes his criticisms. I can then answer him in detail. But I cannot respect the questions of these people from Christianity Today, for they do not focus on the reasons for my statements but on certain foolishly drawn deductions from them. Their questions are thus superficial.

The decisive point, however, is this. The second presupposition of a fruitful discussion between them and me would have to be that we are able to talk on a common plane. But these people have already had their so-called orthodoxy for a long time. They are closed to anything else, will cling to it at all costs, and they can adopt toward me only the role of prosecuting attorneys, trying to establish whether what I represent agrees or disagrees with their orthodoxy, in which I for my part have no interest! None of their questions leaves me with the impression that they want to seek with me the truth that is greater than us all. They take the stance of those who happily possess it already and who hope to enhance their happiness by succeeding in proving to themselves and to the world that I do not share this happiness...

These fundamentalists want to eat me up. They have not yet come to a "better mind and attitude" as I once hoped. I can thus give them neither an angry nor a gentle answer but instead no answer at all.

With friendly greetings,

Yours,

Karl Barth

Would that evangelicalism not merit Barth's stinging critique in these strategic days...

The Gospel and Contextualization

2007-07-01T07:21:00.000-07:00

It seems to me that discussions regarding the future of evangelical theology and the role of the evangelical church in the world increasingly will hinge on the articulation of a theology (or theologies) of contextualization. Describing the function of context and its effect on theology and ministry is no easy task, raising a host of concerns on all sides of the discussion. On the one hand, if we say, "context is everything," are we not thereby reducing truth to relativism? On the other hand, if we say things like "the Gospel is timeless and transcultural," isn't the truth of Christ abstracted from the profound embodiment which the incarnation implies, so that it becomes ideology rather than transformational reality?

Kevin Vanhoozer, in an online reply to Andreas Kostenberger's review of Drama of Doctrine, puts it rather well when he advocates the search for "time-full truth—for truths that are true at all times." He notes that "the truth of Jesus Christ may be embodied at all times, but not at no-time." Thus, the Gospel is universal, but it will always be expressed in time-bound, particular contexts. The merit of this point of view is that it captures the historical dimension of revelation and the richness of a diverse tapestry of experiences of salvation, liberation, and the newness of life in Christ. It privileges the human (and ecological-creational) experience as the epicenter of God's redemptive work.

In a subsequent post, I plan to introduce and interact with the theology of Edward Schillebeeckx, the influential Flemish twentieth-century theologian who had a lot of intriguing and potentially constructive things to say about contextualization.

Who Can Be Saved?

2007-05-22T13:11:00.000-07:00

I'm currently teaching a course called "Current Issues in the Doctrine of Salvation." I structured the course around a broadly biblical/theological definition of salvation, including both its vertical dimension and its horizontal. The first, the vertical, is what evangelicals have typically thought of as "salvation." Otherwise known as "getting saved," "going to heaven," etc. But theology must rediscover the horizontal dimension of salvation: wholeness, well-being, peace, reconciliation, etc.

Most of the tricky theological questions have centered on the vertical dimension, in the form of questions like "who can be saved?" Related to this are issues such as "how much 'information' is required to be a Christian? Must someone have concious explicit knowledge of Jesus Christ to be saved by him? Is to suggest otherwise (that conscious faith is not necessary) detrimental to the missionary "enterprise," which the New Testament so highly prizes? Is salvation potentially accessible (Terrance Tiessen's position is "accesibilism") to every human being, either in this life or the next? Or are unevangelized persons out of luck, with hell to pay?

Any thoughts?

On Francis and Fallwell: What is an "Evangelical"

2007-05-17T17:45:00.001-07:00

With the "defection" (as an angry few would see it) of the president of the Evangelical Theological Society to Roman Catholicism, and now most recently the passing of Jerry Fallwell, the founder of the religious right, everyone wants to know what "evangelical" means. Is Francis Beckwith an evangelical Catholic? Was Fallwell a fundamentalist evangelical?

"Jon," a commenter on a previous blog, asked a provocative question concerning the Evangelical Theological Society's statement on Beckwith's resignation from their society: What if someone wants to call himself an "evangelical Catholic"? Who has the right to prevent him? I was asked a similar question in an Evangelical / Liberal dialogue at United Seminary several weeks ago by: "Can I call myself an 'Evangelical Liberal'"? The answer is easy: "Of course you can. You can call yourself whatever you want."

If Wittgenstein (*now enticing his fans to my blog*) has taught us anything, it's that words have meaning in context. There's no single, transcendent meaning of words aloof from concrete, historical, social, ideological situations. Thus historical scholarship has disagreed on what, exactly, defines an "evangelical." In fact, there is not quite consensus on how to go about that definition: sociologically? theologically? ideologically? I'm not suggesting we're lost in a sea of relativism, and that anybody can legitimately call themselves whatever they want and expect affirmative nods in their direction. Rather, it is up to communities in historical contexts to shape definitions of themselves, as they engage and interact with others within and outside their communities of discourse and belonging. However, we cannot assume that communities will not shift in their use of and understanding of terms (history suggests otherwise) and thus in the extent to which persons may sense that they belong within that group. In other words, definitional labels are malleable.

So who gets to define the term evangelical? For one thing, evangelicals do. But who are they? Is it Carl F. H. Henry's clan only? Or, more broadly, Donald Bloesch's? Or does it include Francis Beckwith's? Regardless, whoever "they" are, they can't assume that everyone outside their camp will defer absolute right of way to them in constructing a definition. Like it or not, dialogue and engagement is necessary. The evangel is too compelling: lots of people want a piece.

ETS' Official Statement Re. Francis Beckwith's Resignation

2007-05-08T14:23:00.000-07:00

This was forwarded by David Howard, of the ETS Executive Committee:

Statement of the ETS Executive Committee regarding

Dr. Frank Beckwith’s Resignation as ETS President

May 8, 2007

On May 5, 2007, Dr. Frank Beckwith resigned as President of the Evangelical Theological Society. This resignation has come as a result of his decision to be received into full communion in the Roman Catholic Church, which he did on April 29, 2007. Dr. Beckwith has informed the Executive Committee that this was a decision he came to “after much prayer, counsel, and consideration.” Subsequently, after further prayer and reflection, Dr. Beckwith has voluntarily withdrawn his membership from the Society as well.

The members of the Executive Committee wish Dr. Beckwith well in his ongoing professional work. We have come to appreciate him as a scholar and a friend. On behalf of the Society, we want to express our gratitude for his work organizing and coordinating the 2006 Annual Meeting in Washington, D.C., with the theme, “Evangelicals in the Public Square.” No one, perhaps, appreciates how much labor is involved in such a task, except those who have undertaken it in the past, as is the case with most of the members of the Executive Committee. And so, we thank Dr. Beckwith for his service to the Society.

At the same time, the Executive Committee recognizes Dr. Beckwith’s resignation as President and subsequent withdrawal from membership as appropriate in light of the purpose and doctrinal basis of the Evangelical Theological Society and in light of the requirements of wholehearted confessional agreement with the Roman Catholic Church.

The work of the Evangelical Theological Society as a scholarly forum proceeds on the basis that “the Bible alone and the Bible in its entirety, is the Word of God written and is therefore inerrant in the autographs.” This affirmation, together with the statement on the Trinity, forms the basis for membership in the ETS to which all members annually subscribe in writing. Confessional Catholicism, as defined by the Roman Catholic Church’s declarations from the Council of Trent to Vatican II, sets forth a more expansive view of verbal, infallible revelation.

Specifically, it posits a larger canon of Scripture than that recognized by evangelical Protestants, including in its canon several writings from the Apocrypha. It also extends the quality of infallibility to certain expressions of church dogma issued by the Magisterium (the teaching office of the Roman Catholic Church), as well as certain pronouncements of the pope, which are delivered ex cathedra, such as doctrines about the immaculate conception and assumption of Mary.

We recognize the right of Roman Catholic theologians to do their theological work on the basis of all the authorities they consider to be revelatory and infallible, even as we wholeheartedly affirm the distinctive contribution and convictional necessity of the work of the Evangelical Theological Society on the basis of the “Bible alone and the Bible in its entirety” as “the Word of God written and . . . inerrant.”

In recent years, Evangelicals and Roman Catholics have often labored together in common cause addressing some of the critical social and moral issues of our contemporary culture. We welcome this and fully expect it to continue. A number of publications have appeared comparing Evangelicalism and Roman Catholicism. Certainly, the two traditions share many common Christian doctrines. However there are important theological differences as well. We expect that the events of these days will bring a renewed discussion of these matters. We welcome and encourage this as well.

Finally, regarding the Presidency of ETS, Dr. Hassell Bullock, President-elect will also serve as acting President until the annual meeting at which time elections for the officers for 2008 will take place.

We are grateful for Dr. Beckwith's past association with ETS, and we pray that God will continue to use his considerable gifts.

A Brief Tribute to a Significant Teacher

2007-04-30T19:08:00.000-07:00

Like the other 75 wide-eyed Wheaton College freshman, giddy with dopey excitement, I had no idea what lay before me when I sauntered into Dr. Robert Webber's "Theology and Culture" class and sloppily took my desk toward the back. I had no adequate language to anticipate what we would be encountering. This was my first ever theology class. I knew not Barth from Brunner. In fact, I'll admit this: I was more interested in making my presence known to candidates of the fairer sex than I was in learning of matters of life, death and eternity. I thought I had all that figured out anyway.

Bob Webber was a gifted teacher and an enthusiastic presence. He provoked students with questions and kindled little flames of passion for God: for the history of God, for the history of our relation to God, and for the history of our reflection on his marvelous, redemptive presence on our little planet. Above all, Dr. Webber inspired students to worship God and to pursue authentic ways--both fresh and ancient--of entering the presence of the Holy One.

That brief encounter, as a clueless freshman with a name and a face like so many others, was a gift. I was one of those flames Webber kindled. I never took another class with him, though I wish I could have. But now as I teach theology at Bethel Seminary, I hope to awaken my students to the mystery and beauty of God and to the unsurpassability of his light. In the spirit of my first theology teacher, I want to light little sparks of desire for the one who gives hope for our present, because He is our future. Dr. Webber passed away Friday, April 27, 2007. May he rest in peace and enjoy the fullness of the marvelous presence of the Trinitarian God as he worships him with unbounded passion, unceasingly.

"I've lost my mind...in my cell phone."

2007-04-28T06:46:00.000-07:00

Theologians typically assume that the mind is located somewhere within the individual person. Discussions have revolved around whether the mind is more akin to the brain or to the spirit/soul of a person. Recent studies in the philosophy of mind are considering other, more far-reaching possibilities. Perhaps the mind is not a thing located within the skull but is extended beyond the confines of the body. Maybe our minds includes things like laptops, cell phones, and daytimers. Think about it. How many phone numbers do you know? They're all in your cell phone. What about email addresses? They're in your laptop. And blogs contain thoughts, ramblings, musings, ideas which both represent and become an extension of the mind of the writer. But if our minds are somehow in our gadgets and web pages, can they also be in our friends and beloveds? My fiance has a better memory than I do, sometimes even about my own schedule! Could my mind include her memory? Talk about the "turn to relationality!" Wouldn't that be nice. Hold on...I have to run. My mind (phone) is ringing.

A Conversation With a "Liberal"

2007-04-14T08:45:00.000-07:00

This coming Thursday, April 19, I will be participating in a public discussion with a liberal theologian, Eleazar Fernandez, at United Theological Seminary. The title for the event is, "Can We Talk? An Evangelical and a Liberal Discuss Jesus Christ" (or something along those lines). I have had a preliminary discussion with Eleazar in which I found him to be not quite as "liberal" as the structure of our topic suggests. While Eleazar has been strongly influenced by liberation theology, and the somewhat related "metaphorical theology" of Sallie MacFague, he promotes to his students what he calls the "passionate core" of Christianity. He calls for a revitalizing of the particularity of Christian language and an authentic, transformative response to Christ within the liberal tradition. Furthermore, Eleazar suggests that he does not fear using the language of exclusivity in regards to Jesus Christ. I'm sure. I sense in his theology, thus far, affinity with postliberal theology (ala George Lindbeck and Stanley Hauerwas). Similarly, while I stand clearly within the evangelical tradition (as some will note, "whatever that means!"), I identify myself more with postconservatism than with traditional conservative evangelical theology. Exploring these horizons could lead to a very interesting dialogue. We both (Eleazar and I) suspect this will not be a debate so much as an intriguing, and hopefully constructive, dialogue. The primary points of difference will likely come down to a nuanced differentiation regarding points of epistemology and hermeneutics (e.g. notions of truth and authority).

I am wondering if any of you have thoughts, suggestions, or predictions regarding this upcoming conversation?

The Professor as Prophet

2007-03-08T14:24:00.000-08:00

I wish to perform, with great fear and trembling, a little theological meditation on 1 Corinthians 14. I want to suggest that there is a tremendous need for prophesy in the church, and that it is the task of seminary professors to be prophets, and to train others to be prophets, so that they can prophesy for the edification of the church.

In 1 Corinthians, we are told to “eagerly desire spiritual gifts, especially the gift of prophecy.” Paul sets “prophecy” across from “glossolalia,” or speaking in a tongue. Tongues, as a spiritual exercise, edify the believer--vertically. Prophecy, however, edifies other believers--horizontally. Prophesy “strengthens, encourages, and comforts” believers.

Tongues have to be interpreted, Paul says, in order to be edifying for the church. I would suggest that prophesy is already an interpretation; a hermeneutical act that enables “strengthening, encouragement, and comfort.” But what then is prophecy an interpretation of? It’s an interpretation of God’s reality, or the reality of redemption, in short, an interpretation (an explanation which enables understanding and appropriation) of the Gospel.

Paul says that the church needs people who bring “revelation,” “knowledge,” and “prophecy,” and “words of instruction.” These things enable clarity, as if distinguishing between notes on a pipe or harp, so that one can tell what tune is being played). When I played the piano as a child, I may have known what I was playing, but it’s possible that passersby had no clue! The performance was only good—and meaningful—for me. You don’t need to look far to see that the evangelical church needs prophetic clarification. Evangelical Christians are more apt to turn to Oprah Winfrey or Dr. Phil than to Scripture, much less than to the Councils of Nicea and Chalcedon. Witness the overnight success of The Secret.

Paul says, “Unless you speak intelligible words with your tongue, how will anyone know what you’re saying?” I think by implication, we can say that “prophecy is the speaking of intelligible words for the edification of the church: for strengthening, encouraging, and comforting of believers.” Prophesying is like interpretation and translating: It is enabling others to understand the “strange new world of the Bible” (Barth), to understand and communicate the “Gospel,” and to understand and communicate, insofar as we have grace to do so, the reality and presence of God among us.

Prophesy brings conceptual clarity to spiritual practices. We can pray in a tongue with our spirit, but our minds are at rest. It’s better to pray with your spirit and with understanding, Paul says. We can sing with our spirit, but it’s better to sing with your spirit and with understanding. Remember the apostle's command to Timothy that he pay attention to his life and to his doctrine; they are intimately interconnected. Spirituality is never divorced from theology. Theology is never divorced from spirituality.

Now less we get to big for our britches here, given this significant role of prophesy and the urgent need for prophesy in our churches, we need to remember what Paul says just a chapter back: If I have the gift of prophesy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge,” but have not love I am nothing. …where there are prophecies, they will cease…where there is knowledge, it will pass away.” Now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; that is, we interpret, we are hermeneutical and subjective beings, trying our best to attain clarity and to appropriate knowledge for mutual, spiritual edification. But prophesy is temporary, transient, and incomplete. There is a higher and more eternal task: love. You don’t have to be a prophet, or even a professor, for that matter, to do that.

God: Immovable and Passionate?

2007-03-06T07:30:00.000-08:00

So here's the deal: Can God be both passionate and impassible (not subject to change in emotion)? Can we rest in the assurance that God has passionate gracious love for his people, for his creation, and that he cares for us immensely and personally--and yet hold that God does not actually change in his emotional state? For Weinandy, this is the mystery of the biblical God; pushing into this mystery is the only way to explicate the God of the Bible.

This makes a great deal of sense. Many Christians want to be able to believe, on the one hand, that God cares deeply for his creation and for his people. He is not distant or removed from our suffering. And yet, can a suffering God really help? Do we relate more effectively to a God who suffers, or to a God whose mysterious, paradoxical relation between transcendence and immanence, suggests that, while he is infinitely near to us, he is also wholly other.

The question of God's impassibility, passibility, and the possibility of his suffering cannot escape a discussion of the so-called relation between the ontological and economic Trinity. Traditionally, the economic Trinity has been posited as that which can be known by us mere mortals. God as he reveals himself to us in history (and Scripture). The God, that is, of Father, Son and Jesus Christ in their transfiguring revealedness. The ontological Trinity, on the other hand, is God as he exists in himself (The Existent One), and in his essence. This God we cannot really speak about. To paraphrase John of Damascus, we might be able to know this God (relationaly) but we can't talk about what we know of this God. To bifurcate between the ontological and the immanent Trinity in stark terms is to use the unity of God; we end up, not with three persons, but with six! Three we can talk about, three we can't. Well, this is just odd.

The solution to the question of whether God suffers cannot rely on this distinction (economic/ontological). As Rahner put it, the ontological Trinity is the economic Trinity! It is better to say of the Godhead, both that he is unchangeable, immovable, and always faithful to who he is (which includes faithfulness, passion, love, etc.), but that he does not change, in passionate fits and starts, like you and I. Rather, he always is passionate, gracious, kind, loving...but this is not to say he is distant, predictable and mechanistic.

I'm beginning to appreciate Weinandy's critique of the modern emphasis on the passibility of God. Many questions remain and many implications are left to draw out and nuance, but it's a good beginning.

The Mystery of Suffering and Evil: Does God Suffer?

2007-02-17T21:05:00.000-08:00

Thomas Weinandy, in his book Does God Suffer?, asks the crucial theological quesiton of our time. Setting up his case, he cites Gabriel Marcel on the difference between a logical problem and a mystery. Problems have answers. Figure out the answer, and you're on your way to something else. Mysteries, on the other hand, are inherently unsolvable. They suck you in by intrigue and depth, but, like that eerie west-coast hotel, you can never leave. You never find an "answer," but you keep wanting more.

On the relation between God, suffering and evil, Weinandy's appropriation of Marcel is dead-on. We're not talking MIT, but Hotel California. There is no logical answer to the so-called "problem of evil." Theists aren't alone in this. Atheists have the opposite problem: the "problem of good." Solve that with a formula.

Atheistic critics of Christian theism have noted the logical difficulty of holding three truths together which want to burst apart from tension: God is good, God is powerful, and evil exists. Why would a good and powerful God allow evil and suffering in the world he created? The problem seems particularly profound, Weinandy points out, for the modern consciousness, which has seen the images of Auschwitz and Dachau. Where was God when millions were shoved helpless into gas chambers? Moltmann's answer: He was there in their suffering. Much of modern theology agrees with Dietrich Bonhoeffer that, "only a suffering God can help." In other words, the emotionally unaffected, or "impassible" God of classical theism (yes, that concept of God which dominated the theological landscape for at least 1500 years), offers no religious benefit for a world in which suffering and evil is a major theme of their most recent history.

The question Weinandy raises, in contrast to the now-prevailing theological consensus regarding the passibility of God, is whether a suffering God can help. His critique is that those encountering evil are not helped by a suffering God, but rather by one who is unaffected by evil and yet comforts the afflicted in the midst of their pain.

I plan to finish Weinandy's book and to post again on this central question. Does God suffer? and, Does a suffering God help? My initial hunch is that the new consensus regarding the passibility of God is based on a correct intuition. For too long, classical theology has been unable to provide a satisfactory link between God as he exists in himself and God as he exists in our midst. In other words, when the Bible seems to suggest that God has some kind of feeling and emotion in reaction to human beings and events of human history, must we simply chalk that up to "anthropomorphism," and say that God "essence" remains unaffected? What sense does "essence" even mean at that point? And then, of course, we have that awkward little blip in God's history called the incarnation. Didn't God suffer there...or was that just the human Jesus?

what this is for

2007-02-09T08:18:00.000-08:00

I've finally decided to join the crowd. So here's my little blog. la-de-da. Here I will dump scattered thoughts, disconnected ramblings, and other annoying verbal excursions that found no fitting place in that other world called reality. You also find thoughts here related to courses I am currently teaching, or am planning to teach. So, welcome students, and/or future students. Feel free to use this as a supplement to the course and to Blackboard. Any others are welcome to join in on any of these conversations. I'm currently contemplating what will be my first substantive post. I'm strangely filled with anxiety about that. Though I know it isn't true, it seems like my first real post will determine the direction of the blog. Funny me. This isn't no dissertation, after all!

Any ideas?