Forgiving ourselves

In Christianity, there are actual right and wrongs - there are things that God detests and things in which he delights. When we do wrong, it's personal. As well as wronging another person, we wrong our Creator God. He nevers overlooks evil, but he provides a way by which we can be forgiven.

So where does 'forgiving ourselves' fit in? What does this even mean? I think it's something about no longer beating yourself up about what you did. I think the idea has merit, but the wording's unhelpful. It's God we've wronged, and it's his forgiveness we need, not our own . . . But we do need to trust that we have actually been forgiven. Jesus took our beating - we don't need to add to it.

Spreading the love?

It's standard practice for a single church to support a number of missionaries - and for a single missionary to be supported by a number of churches. My guess is it started off this way because missionaries failed to raise enough funds from the one church - and, later on, once the church was in a position to contribute more, that person had already received all the money they needed from elsewhere, so the church had to find other people to support - and on it went.

I find the situation a bit odd - I think this is because I like the idea of a missionary being regarded as a regular member of staff - and if your church's pastor or youth worker gets all their support from that church alone, then why shouldn't the missionary? One argument I've heard in favour of spreading your support around is that if the church leadership changes, you're not left in the lurch. There's clearly some good, practical wisdom in this, but it seems a little jaded to me to base the way you do support on the expectation that a future pastor won't want to support you.

Of course most churches already have a number of missionaries, and I'm hardly advocating a cull. I'm more thinking about this because I'm in the unusual position of (hopefully) being the first missionary my church sends out.

Waiting

Swinton thinks that asking "Why does a God of love and power allow suffering?" is to ask the wrong question. The right question is:

How can we be enabled to love God and to hold on to the reality that God is love, that God is faithful and that God loves us even in the midst of our sufferings?1

He thinks this question is good because: life isn't about the absence of pain, but about the presence of God and of relationship with him; the question begins from a position of faith; and it stops us from slipping into the idolatory of putting an object - or here a standard - over God.

Swinton then says that the lament(ing) Psalms can teach us how to suffer well. The speaking of these Psalms and their concluding in praise show the faith of their writers. And their honest appraisal of the situation shows . . . their honesty. It's an honesty that hates the pain and sorrow of now, hates the delay - but it's an honesty shot through with sure, bright hope for the future. This trust in a faithful, loving God and hope for the future gives birth to patience. For to suffer well is to be patient.


H/T Sharon


1 J Swinton, "Patience and Lament: Living Faithfully in the Presence of Suffering" in FA Murphy & PG Ziegler (eds), The Providence of God (London: T&T Clark, 2009), 275-87.

Telling ripping yarns in glory

So here and now in this fallen earthly place narrative looks a little something like this:

Intro > Problem > Climax > Resolution > Conclusion

So what are stories going to be like in heaven? They won't be boring, I'm sure of that, but what of the tension and intrigue?


PS I think I've posted on this before. Sorry if I bore you.

Mixing it up

Thinking theologically should never be treated as a stimulating exercise only, but should be approached with due reverence and fear. Cole observes that the writers of the Psalms and the apostle Paul give us good examples of how to marry thought and worship. In the Psalms, we see knowledge of God turned into prayer, and in his letters, Paul is forever interrupting his teachings with a "burst of praise".1


1 GA Cole, "Thinking Theologically," 60.

Specialisation in a complex world

Simplistic assessments irk me. Macquarrie tells me why and what to do about it:

There are after all, two kinds of knowledge required for responsible moral decision - knowledge of moral principles and knowledge of the factual circumstances of the situation. In an increasingly specialized world, only experts in the various fields have the second kind of knowledge. This implies that Christian morality will become increasingly lay morality.1

Cole adds: "The I.V.F. issue provides a case in point. How can the pastor alone be expected to have the factual knowledge required for wise judgement?"


1 J Macquarrie, Three Issues in Ethics (London: SCM, 1970), 74-75. cited in GA Cole, "Thinking Theologically" in RTR 48 (1989), 60.

A question //2

So here's the topic:

The nature and significance of eschatological feasting.

It definitely needs sexing-up and narrowing-down.

It's not easy being green ;-)

In case you haven't guessed, I'm a words person. Reading is as much part of my life as breakfast. Getting writing right (!?) matters so much to me. My love language is 'words of affirmation'. And I'm a wannabe poet so I care a lot about precision and 'trueness'.

All this means that when someone asks me a question I take careful note of exactly what they have asked me. I don't answer the spirit or the general category of question - I answer that particular question. And I answer it precisely and with all the truth and openess I can. . . . I think my replies often come across as unusually bold or a little off-topic . . .

And when someone asks me about something too vast or weighty for me to properly comprehend, I don't know how to give an answer, because I am unable to pin it down with words. So I can come across as inept or lacking in knowledge when really all that's happening is that I'm having a problem with words.

I don't know why I'm telling you this. I'm not really feeling sorry for myself - it's more that I thought it was interesting and I haven't blogged for a while. Oh and I do feel a little bit sorry for myself ;-).

Dying to yourself

I forgot about sacrifice - or perhaps I never really knew. That was until Wednesday last week when I heard a sermon on Acts 20:24 in the morning, and I did Bible study on John 15:12 at night. I think that in recent times I've been so focused on the twin challenges of learning to live a balanced life so I won't burn-out and becoming comfortable in my own skin, that I've slipped into thinking it's enough to be kind.

Jesus was kind, and yet, "This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us". (1 John 3:16)

I must join Paul in saying "I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me - the task of testifying to the gospel of God's grace." (Acts 20:24) I thank God that I don't have to do it out of mechanical duty. He has loved us so lavishly we can put others first out of love. I pray that I won't be lazy and forget this again and that I won't be hard of heart. How good it would be if loving my God and caring for the people around was the first and only inclination of my mind and heart.

We are more than our bodies

A friend drew my attention to this article which is written in reaction to Tony Abbot's recent comments. I'll quote a bit of it in case you can't be bothered reading it.

[T]he Opposition Leader's description of virginity as ''the greatest gift you can give someone, the ultimate gift of giving'' was nauseating. The comment both fetishes a woman's virginity and reduces her value to the presence of a hymen, to the unpenetrated state of her vagina. Why is that the greatest gift a woman can give someone? What about her mind? Her actions? Dare I say it, her soul?

Coslovich, the author, suggests that the way forward is for a woman to "to safely explore one's sexuality, when one is ready to do so, not when one's peers or politicians say you are ready to do so".

I wholeheartedly agree that there is more to women (and men) than our bodies, and that we have more value than as partners for sex. But I disagree with both her perception of the Christian attitude and the alternative she purports.

I agree that people should be free to chose how they behave sexually, but Coslovich follows this with the false assumption that the very fact of being free to chose must necessarily mean that it is best to milk that freedom for all it's worth - by embracing a variety and multiplicity of experience. This is not necessarily true. It may be better to freely choose helpful restriction - as when we decide to drink in moderation, not because someone is making us, but because we see that this will turn out to be the more enjoyable, healthy and dignifying option.

Going into marriage a virgin is not some ugly exercise in defining women as pieces of (prize) meat. That is emphatically not the Christian motivation. It is, in fact, quite opposite. Keeping sex to marriage is saying that there is more to sex and more to the people who sleep together than brute physicality. Christians wait until they are married before having sex because this is the only context in which the emotional, psychological and relational aspects of sex can be protected, honoured, and flourish. It is in sleeping around that women and men get treated as like disposable sexual objects.