Dinner for two at Angelo's

Now for a collection of links... I will write some of my own stuff again soon I promise :P. It's just that these posts were too good to miss (thanks to Laura for drawing them to my attention).

Douglas Wilson is responding to Mark and Grace Driscoll's recent and controversial book, Real Marriage. He introduces the discussion with great wisdom and fair-mindedness here. He then continues his introduction by drawing on 1 Thessalonians 4:4-5, making the following observation:

So we do not yet know what the distinction is exactly, but the important thing is that we now know that there is one. This means that there should be some kind of qualitative difference in how a sanctified and honorable man approaches a woman and how a man full of the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life does. From the passages noted above, the difference is clearly not a difference with intensity.

Next Wilson explains frankly and persuasively why anal intercourse is "unnatural, unhealthy, unclean, and unnecessary". He then turns to how you go about deciding what is right and wrong when the Bible fails to mention modern sexual practices. His answer is in part: "a couple who seriously put into practice the great principles in the first part of this book will overwhelmingly not be interested in some of the questions in the controversial section".

 Wilson concludes by explaining how understanding the culture you live is in a right and good thing to do:

The Bible tells women to dress a certain way, in order to achieve a certain effect, and tells them to do this without giving them a dress code. This means that obedience requires women to make decisions about their sexual attractiveness in their culture. Here is the principle -- certain kinds of obedience cannot happen unless we learn how to go beyond Scripture. Women need to learn how to be attractive without attracting all and sundry, and they must do this without specific warrant from the Scriptures for any one of their particular decisions. 

All these same realities apply to the marriage bed . . . . In order to able to obey this, in order to make love not like they do, it is required that we be able to read what they are doing. And when we read what they are doing, and why, we are not reading it in the pages of the Bible. But we are doing something better -- we are obeying the pages of the Bible.

What are we trying to accomplish anyway?

I find it very difficult, impossible really, to take action unless I first understand a thing. So it's been very much on my mind to grapple with the mission of the church. I know what individual Christians are called to do, but have been less sure of the role of the church as the formal institution imagined by the New Testament. Once again, I happened upon a useful book – What Is the Mission of the Church? Making Sense of Social Justice, Shalom, and the Great Commission by Kevin DeYoung and Greg Gilbert. I'm aware that this is written towards one end of the spectrum of views on these issues, but I trust that won't prevent me from reaching my own conclusions ;).

After an introductory chapter, the book does some thorough-going exegetical work in Genesis 12, Exodus 19, Matthew 28, Mark 13 and 14, Luke 4 and 24, John 20, Acts 1, and Paul's letters (other passages are explored in later chapters). You will have to read the book to see how their working goes, but a shorthand way of doing some of it is to ask, 'How would this passage/book read if it were talking about building community or improving economic participation (etc)?' This sort of question exposes the word-based ministry found throughout somewhere like the book of Acts. We don't see the apostles stopping to advocate for the poor in the cities of the Ancient World or instructing others to do so. Their primary concern and what they spend their time doing is to spread the Gospel of life and to see believers built up in their faith. It is this that DeYoung and Gilbert conclude is the mission of the church – “to go into the world and make disciples by declaring the gospel of Jesus Christ in the power of the Spirit and gathering these disciples into churches, that they might worship the Lord and obey his commands now and in eternity to the glory of God the Father.”1

Now the reason that God's Word focuses on proclamation of the Gospel and teaching of disciples is not because ending poverty, conflict, and environmental degradation aren't important – but because this is Jesus' work, not the church's. What's more, this is work he has already accomplished on the cross, the results of which will be finally and fully realised at his return. Jesus doesn't need our help in bringing about world peace, for he has already done it. It's not for us to build the Kingdom, we are simply to enter in. And so the most compassionate thing we can do for suffering people is to urge them to join his people and then to together pray to hurry the return of King Jesus. This is exactly what he has commanded his church to do. Of course each Christian still needs to live as his faithful servant, and that may mean caring for other people or for the environment in some practical way, but we shouldn't think we are 'helping Jesus out'.

There are of course passages that exhort us to care for the vulnerable and suffering. DeYoung and Gilbert don't argue with this – it's just that they don't see these passages speaking of the mission of the church. They also argue that this care is rather more narrow than we might think. The Bible urges especial concern for the destitute among fellow believers (cf Mt 10:40-42; 25:31-46; 2 Cor 8:13-15; Gal 2:10; 6:10), for people who are oppressed and exploited, and for those near to us in some way. The second of these categories is bound up with the biblical conception of 'justice' – which is not so much concerned with the aid and empowerment of the poor and disenfranchised, but rather with putting a stop to “a corrupted judicial system, an arbitrary legal code, and outright cruelty to the poor”2 and a concern that people “should not steal, bribe, or cheat”3. From this the authors conclude:

We dare say that most Christians in America are not guilty of these sorts of injustices, nor should they be made to feel that they are . . . . If we are guilty of injustice individually or collectively, let us be rebuked in the strongest terms. By the same token, if we are guilty of hoarding our resources and failing to show generosity, then let us repent, receive forgiveness, and change. But when it comes to doing good in our communities and in the world, let's not turn every possibility into a responsibility and every opportunity into an ought. If we want to see our brothers and sisters do more for the poor and afflicted, we'll go farther and be on safer ground if we use grace as our motivating principle instead of guilt.4

The third point (care for those near to us in some way) is illustrated in the parables of the Good Samaritan and the Rich Man and Lazarus – “the rich man in Luke 16 is damned because he ignores poor Lazarus at his gate. His sin is a sin of omission. But this omission is more than a general failure to 'do more' or 'do enough'. His extravagant wealth makes him blind to the needs right in front of him.”5 Similarly in 1 John 3:17 failure to help a brother in need is a grave sin. However Paul is much less severe in 2 Corinthians 8-9 – because the brothers live some distance away and are not part of his readers' local church community (cf 8:8; 9:5).6 DeYoung and Gilbert observe:

There are no easy answers even with the principle of moral proximity, but without it God's call to compassion seems like a cruel joke. We can't possibly respond to everyone who asks for money. We can't give to every organization helping the poor. Some Christians make it sound like every poor person in Africa is akin to a man dying on our church's doorstep, and neglecting starving children in India is like ignoring our own child drowning right in front of us. We are told that any difference in our emotional reaction or tangible response shows just how little we care about suffering in the world. This rhetoric is manipulative and morally dubious.7

They helpfully add, “This doesn't mean we can be uncaring to everyone but our friends, close relatives, and people next door, but it means that what we ought to do in one situation is what we may do in another.”8

Let's end on an upbeat note:

If we want every church to move into the city, drink fair-trade coffee, focus on ending world hunger, and feel like guilty oppressors when we don't do these things, we're going to have a hard time backing that up with Scripture. But if we want every church to look outside itself, exercise love beyond its doors, and give generously to those in need (especially those on its member list), we will have ample biblical support.

All that is to say, as we see the physical needs all around us, let's motivate each other by pointing out salt-and-light opportunities instead of going farther than the Bible warrants and shaming each other with do-this-list-or-you're-sinning responsibilities. We would do well to focus less on prophetic 'social justice' announcements and more on boring old love. Love creatively. Love wildly. Love dangerously.9

1 K DeYoung, G Gilbert, What Is the Mission of the Church? Making Sense of Social Justice, Shalom, and the Great Commission (Illinois: Crossway, 2011), 62. (italics theirs)

2 Ibid, 159.

3 Ibid,161.

4 Ibid,176-77.

5 Ibid, 167. (italics theirs)

6 Ibid, 170, 185.

7 Ibid, 184-85.

8 Ibid, 184. (italics theirs)

9 Ibid, 193. (bold theirs)     

Couldn't God just forgive?

I have been meaning to write this post for a long, long time. A few years I think. I wanted to critique The Reason for God (which I otherwise adore) for its chapter on the cross. I think it's a dangerously misleading chapter because it seems to suggest that what really happened on the cross was something other than 'penal substitution' – that is, the innocent Lord Jesus suffering the Father's wrath in our place so that we might not have to. But as I thought about beginning to write, I realised that I needed to be more sure that penal substitution was really at the heart of what happened on the cross.

Pierced for our Transgressions: Rediscovering the Glory of Penal Substitution was just what I was looking for and I commend it to y'all. It's an intimidatingly fat book, but structured in such a way that you can dip in and out. So far I've read chapter two – the exegesis section, and some of the answers to objections in part two. Chapter two takes you through Exodus (12), Leviticus (16), Isaiah (52:13-53:12), Mark (10:33-45; 15:33-34), John (1:29; 3:14-18; 6:51; 10:11; 11:47-52), Romans (3:21-26; 4:25; 5:8-10; 8:1-3), Galatians (3:10-13), and 1 Peter (2:21-25; 3:18). This list alone hints at the centrality – or at least the ubiquity – of this teaching. You will have to read the book (and the Bible!) to see if you are convinced by its exploration of penal substitution. Personally, while there were no points I actively disagreed with, I was not convinced by every argument – but this hardly took away from the force of the authors' conclusions, which drew on a number of arguments for each passage/book. Overall and on most points, I gave a hearty 'Amen'.

Having established the validity of penal substitution, the authors explain its centrality by making use of a 'jigsaw puzzle analogy': “Pieces at the centre of a jigsaw are in direct contact with a greater number of other pieces than those at the corners. Removing a central piece will therefore disrupt more elements of the picture than omitting one of the corners.”1 They follow:

We have seen that the doctrine of penal substitution is necessary to safeguard the justice and holiness of God, for to deny it is to suggest that God is content simply to overlook evil whenever he forgives someone. To discard penal substitution would also jeopardize God's truthfulness, for he has promised that sin will lead to death. Moreover, other aspects of the atonement cease to make sense if penal substitution is denied. We argued in chapter 3 that penal substitution is essential to Christ's victory over evil powers . . . to his restoration of the relationships between sinners and God (reconciliation) and to the liberation he brings from captivity to sin and Satan (redemption or ransom). Far from being viable alternatives to penal substitution, they are outworkings of it. As the hub from which all of these other doctrines fan out, penal substitution is surely central.2

With this in mind, I return to The Reason for God. The chapter I take issue with is chapter twelve, 'The (True) Story of the Cross'. I love all the other chapters and if only chapter twelve were different, I would be buying many copies of the book and giving them to all my friends. But because I think this chapter is climatic – and misleading – I cannot.

In this 'problem chapter' Keller's line of argument begins well: “'Why did Jesus have to die? Couldn't God just forgive us?' This is what many ask, but now we can see that no one 'just' forgives, if the evil is serious. Forgiveness means bearing the cost instead of making the wrongdoer do it, so you can reach out in love to seek your enemy's renewal and change. Forgiveness means absorbing the debt of the sin yourself.”3 Where I think Keller goes wrong is in trying too hard to make what happened on the cross comprehensible to his pagan readers. This desire drives him to work from human experience of forgiveness to God's forgiveness, when he should be going the other way round. “As Bonhoeffer says, everyone who forgives someone bears the other's sins. On the cross we see God doing visibly and cosmically what every human being must do to forgive someone, though on an infinitely greater scale.”4 Now while he does go on to say some thoroughly biblical things (eg “on the cross [God] absorbed the pain, violence and evil of the world into himself”5, “There was a debt to be paid – God himself paid it. There was a penalty to be borne – God himself bore it.”6), I rather think these comments will be glossed over by readers who have just read a detailed description of what human forgiveness entails -

Forgiveness means refusing to make them pay for what they did. However, to refrain from lashing out at someone when you want to do so with all your being is agony. It is a form of suffering. You not only suffer the original loss of happiness, reputation and opportunity, but now you forgo the consolation of inflicting the same on them. You are absorbing the debt, taking the cost of it completely on yourself instead of taking it out of the other person. It hurts terribly. Many people would say it feels like a kind of death.7

So when Keller speaks of God absorbing our debt, it doesn't bring to mind a just punishment meted out on Jesus to spare us from hell, but the emotional pain of the process of forgiveness itself. If this were true, Jesus would have died and justice would still be waiting to be served. And that is not the good news which the Bible everywhere proclaims.

1 S Jeffery, M Ovey, A Sach, Pierced for our Transgressions: Rediscovering the Glory of Penal Substitution (Nottingham: Inter-Varsity Press, 2007), 210.

2 Ibid, 211. (underline mine)

3 T Keller, The Reason for God: Belief in an Age of Scepticism (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 2008), 192.

4 Ibid, 192. 

5 Ibid, 192.

6  Ibid,193.

7 Ibid, 188-89. 

Go and do likewise

Old Testament Ethics for the People of God does a lot of things in its desire that we learn from all the Old Testament, not only the obviously applicable bits. While each take is solid and stimulating, it's not clear to me that each section's conclusions inform his working in the next, or even exactly how this might be possible. Still, it's a fine book.

One thing Wright advocates is the concept of 'paradigm' rather than 'principle'. He does acknowledge that “To use a paradigm you do have to look for and articulate the principles the paradigm embodies and then see how they can be reconcretized in some other context”.1 However, the problem with the 'principle' approach as Wright sees it is that “it can lead to the eventual discarding of the specific realities of the Old Testament text, the concrete, earthy history of Israel, the good, the bad and the ugly. Once you have a principle in your pocket, why keep the wrapping?”2 In contrast, when you're thinking 'paradigm', the original story matters – for it is the very example that you are seeking to reapply. And that is what the Bible is – not a handbook of rules and principles, but a collection of stories and literary genres. And making sure that we never divorce ourselves from all this particularity also prevents us from smoothing over all the “hard edges, all the jarring tensions and all the awkward corners of earthy reality”.3

Wright provides a few examples of people in the Bible using Scripture in a paradigmatic way4 – God graciousness to Israel in slavery as a call to be merciful to slaves (eg Dt 15:14-15), Nathan's parable about the sheep stealer to expose King David's wife-stealing sin (2 Sam 12:1-10), the parable of the Good Samaritan as a call to love any and all people as 'neighbour' (Lk 10:30-39), the fair provision of manna in the desert as a call to share (2 Cor 8:13-15), the provision for the working ox as a call to provide for ministers of the Gospel (1 Cor 9:8-12) - and, finally, Christians are called to imitate Christ, not in the details of his life, but in things such as love, humility, and suffering (Eph 5:2; Phil 2:5; 1 Pet 2:21).

Now this idea of paradigm could make some think that telling a story is all that is needed, that there is something coldly analytical and bludgeonly didactic about spelling out principles. But I would like to point out that, in all but one of the examples above, the teachers (Moses, Nathan, Jesus, Paul, Peter) tell the paradigmatic story and then spell out the principle. For example, “Give to him [the slave] as the Lord has blessed you. Remember you were slaves in Egypt and the Lord your God redeemed you”, “Live a life of love just as Christ loved us and gave himself for us”, “Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus who . . . humbled himself . . .”, “If you suffer for doing good and you endure it, this is commendable before God. To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps”, “Our desire is . . . that there might be equality . . . . as it is written: 'He who gathered much did not have too much, and he who gathered little did not have too little'”, “For it is written in the Law of Moses: 'Do not muzzle an ox while it is treading out the grain.' Is it about oxen that God is concerned? Surely he says this for us, doesn't he? . . . . If we have sown spiritual seed among you, is it too much if we reap a material harvest from you?” And while Nathan's parable doesn't explicitly spell out the principle, it goes to such great lengths to identify David as "the man" in the parable and to show that what he has done mirrors the parable's story, that he pretty much did. The only exception to this pattern is the parable of the Good Samaritan. Jesus concludes simply by saying “Go and do likewise”. So it is clearly okay to sometimes leave the principle implicit, perhaps when it is especially obvious - and yet this is not the usual pattern.

Tell Bible stories. Say what they mean for us. Tell people to go do that.

1 C J H Wright, Old Testament Ethics for the People of God (Nottingham: Inter-Varsity Press, 2004), 70.

2 Ibid, 70.

3 Ibid, 71.

4 Ibid, 71-73.

Warning

I'm about to post three lengthy book reviews/reflections. Ugh. Hopefully they are stimulating! I certainly enjoyed reading the books, as well as feeling relieved I'd finally got to them. Hoo roo.

Blind faith?

Here are a couple of my favourite Bible passages. I'm taking these prints with me to Chile.

 

 By themselves, these passages might smack of blind trust, even fatalism. But this next grounds them and grants them beauty and maturity.

The same person

My own sin used to confuse me. A huge question mark was cast over everything I once thought I was and I felt as though I had been masquerading as a good, kind person and to continue to act that way would be a lie. Nowadays I still hate myself for what I've done, but my identity doesn't crumble. I know that I'm a child of God and growing in him. While my godliness is genuine, it's mixed with sin and I do still stuff up. Yet even in my sin I can still act righteously by grieving over it and by humbling myself, apologising and taking steps to change.

'Walk up'

Across this month my church has been running The Endless Summer of Love, a chance for us to get together and enjoy the summer as a Christian community. There's been something on most days - fun things like watching the cricket at someone's house or a grassroots bike race up a steep hill, as well as good deeds like clearing a property of thistles or praying for working class suburbs.

We've also been heading out to the mall each Wednesday and Friday lunchtime to talk to people about our faith. Not something I would normally do, but I can make myself rise to the occasion. I've tried to keep it pretty contained, for my sanity's sake, and it's proved a real winner. I aim to have two decent conversations each day. I only talk to women who are sitting down and by themselves, because they're more likely to be happy to talk. I don't like to take up too much of their time, so the whole thing usually goes for no more than 10 minutes. The last five times I went out there were only two people who didn't want to talk. Today I got knocked back by four people in a row, so I just called it a day before I got discouraged.

Overall it's been an encouraging experience. I'm not always happy with what I've said, but I do trust that some of it has hit the spot. I've given away a few Bibles and treated people with gentleness and respect. The people I've spoken to have been very polite and have shared sincerely, even when the conversation hasn't gone too deep. And the whole thing has gone some way to assuaging my fear of strangers - who have turned out to be perfectly nice, ordinary people not so very different to me.

Humble yourself that he may lift you up

After my recent-ish post about self esteem, one of my friends explained that when he gets to work he feels constrained to work within the prevailing worldview, as if to challenge the notion that we are good and improved self esteem is all we need to overcome would kill rapport and leave him looking uncaring. This was my reply:

I think part of the trick is to yourself remember that increasing someone's self-esteem isn't actually the most helpful thing you can do for them - it would actually be more helpful to get them to see that they have some responsibility for how things have turned out and to encourage them to sort things out/seek forgiveness/change themselves.* I think it may be possible to do this with gentleness and without ruining rapport. And this approach also demonstrates a greater respect for them than pretending they are better than they are - and hopefully they will sense this.

You can do all this while 100% affirming their value as a person (even if you're not affirming their goodness). This is the sort of self-esteem that we are totally for.

What do you think? Is this workable in actual day-to-day practice?


* Of course even this is of limited usefulness, as we know that no-one will never really be able to sort things out or change themselves (though they may be forgiven by another). But it is still a step in the right direction - in acknowledging a) your sin and b) your inability to fix yourself and c) turning to God for forgiveness and change.