Seeing an Eternal Creator

1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.

We look into the past and marvel at the lighting of our sun, the ordering of our solar system, the orbiting of our planet.  We look expectantly to the future, to the hope of peace and goodness upon the earth.  We confess our tendency to see ourselves as the center of the universe.  This Advent season, may we see our Eternal Creator.

Seeing the True Light

What has come into being 4 in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. 6 There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. 7 He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. 8 He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. 9 The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.

In this often dark and shadowy world, we long for glimpses of light.  How easily we are satisfied with mere reflections, and hide our own darkness from exposure.  We confess our obsession with the cult of celebrity—of making idols of people and ideas, of following the strongest or surest or sweetest voice.  This Advent season, may we emerge from the safety of our shadows to experience True Light.

Seeing the Rejected Rescuer

10 He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. 11 He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. 12 But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, 13 who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.

It is difficult to admit that we are needy.  We do not like to think of ourselves as weak.  We can maintain our families, our careers, our finances, our relationships, our souls alone—or we can at least die trying to pretend that’s true.  We confess that we are slow to accept help, the risk seems too great.  This Advent season, may we have the humility to see—and not reject—a Rescuer.

Seeing the Incarnate Mystery

14 And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.

For 2000 years, theologians, church officials, and ordinary people have tried to understand and explain Jesus of Nazareth.  Have tried to make him human, yet divine.  Have tried to make him divine, yet human.  We confess our inability to make a profound mystery into a tidy theology.  This Advent season, may we give ourselves permission to marvel at the Incarnate Mystery.

Zuckerman is an American sociologist whose book studies the spiritual (or aspiritual) outlook of Nordic Europeans—specifically Danes and Swedes—and how the decline in their religious concerns is reflected in the state of their society. Zuckerman conducted his research mostly in Denmark primarily through lengthy first-person interviews. He relates portions of these conversations throughout the book, with little emphasis on statistics and data (though that is interspersed), making the study highly readable and quite compelling. One of Zuckerman’s primary undertakings in this study is to refute the oft-touted theory that if a nation “turns its back on God,” then moral chaos and disastrous consequences will certainly ensue. According to Zuckerman, nearly the opposite is true: he finds Denmark and Sweden to be pleasant, safe, and prosperous societies despite (or perhaps because of) their lack of religiosity. Coming from my own American Capitalist Jesus-saturated culture, I read the discourses with great intrigue. One remarkable passage struck me almost as science-fiction. A thirty-nine year old atheist named Christian related the following account about a surprise confession he received from a friend:

…suddenly one night we had a few drinks and then he said to me, “I have a confession to make.”…and then he told me that he believed in God. And I was quite surprised. I never thought in my whole life that…well, he was getting pretty loaded, you know, and then he had this urge to tell me….[It’s] unusual. I never expected anybody to tell me something like that. That was—I almost fell down off the chair. I said—[pantomines an expression of shock]—and I didn’t know how to react, and then he said to me, “I hope you don’t feel I’m a bad person.” So he said that to me and I said, “Oh, of course, you can believe whatever you want as long as you respect me,“ I said to him. But it was something he had kept for a long time, and finally he got the mood, you know, and it was after a few bottles of red wine, you know. It was a confession…”Now we are so good friends, I can tell you this because this is my inner secret,” you know. -p.54

You know? No, I didn’t. Society Without God will cause me to reevaluate some of the common arguments I’ve heard so often about God and politics. How do you feel about the influence religion has on society in your country?

Has Religion Run Its Course?

It turns out the northeast suburbs of that city weren’t really looking for authentic, enthusiastic people from the Midwest to deliver their spirituality.  (If they were, then perhaps we were profoundly bad at marketing.)  For two years we did a lot of setting up and tearing down and talking (mostly to each other) about living this certain kind of life.  After a while, we quit.

I’ve been attending church my whole life, but in recent years I’ve not really participated in meaningful roles.  Today, I’m contemplating whether or not to help launch a new church.  I don’t know if I have the spark.  I don’t know if I care enough one way or the other.  Church is demanding and tiring.  I want to do it because there are so many churches just wasting people’s time and I want to see more that don’t.  But church work, well, I’m not that enthusiastic Jesus-loving 23 year-old anymore.  Am I still enough Christian to lead a church?  Do I believe in church? Do I think the local church is the hope of the world? Or at least some source of hope?  I think these are the first questions that need to be answered.

http://brianmclaren.net/archives/blog/q-r-evangelism-and-evangelists.html#more

GOD SAYS YES TO ME

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said it sure is
I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes
she said you can do just exactly
what you want to
Thanks God I said
And is it even okay if I don’t paragraph
my letters
Sweetcakes God said
who knows where she picked that up
what I’m telling you is
Yes Yes Yes

–Kaylin Haught

I am pleased to report I had no instances of wanting to throw the book against the wall this week while reading Brian McLaren’s latest offering, A New Kind of Christianity. (Although I was challenged to repent of my us vs. them mentality and characterization of Calvinists—touché!)  Instead, I was inspired and reignited by McLaren’s discussion of ten questions he identifies as those perplexing many Christians today.  He asserts that the conversation we have about these issues can (and will) reshape the future of our faith and our ability to function within it with integrity.  I wholeheartedly agree.  I’m sure there will be plenty of book reviews to devour if you need to know all the details of the book before (or without) reading it.  I’ll spare you the outline, and hit a few personal highlights.

Two overarching premises that begin the book were extremely helpful to me:  1) a concise and accessible overview of Greek philosophy and a description of how its belief system has come to dominate our understanding of God and the Christian story, and 2) a plea for the image of “community library” to replace “constitution” as the dominant metaphor for our approach to reading scripture.  (I especially appreciate the articulation of this “constitutional reading” approach which I have never had adequate vocabulary for expressing.)  With these tools as a presupposition, I saw the other questions from new angles and with fresh perspective.  McLaren selectively intersperses Biblical passages and exegesis throughout, and his comments have the weight of sound study and a gentle pastoral voice.  I was particularly moved by his very simple but profound description of the purpose of the church (p. 164): “…to form Christlike people, people of Christlike love. It exists to save them from the great danger of wasting their lives, becoming something less than and other than they were intended to be, gaining the world but losing their souls.”  (In a nod to McLaren’s quest for common ground, I was struck at how similar this vision is to a call often issued from esteemed Calvinist pastor John Piper.)

I found great sensitivity and wisdom in McLaren’s exegesis of the story of Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch as a starting point for our discussions about sexuality and the sexual “other,” rather than the decontextualized verses often thrown around on this topic under a constitutional reading.  His astute insight regarding “my Father’s house” in John is also worth pondering.

There is much to like here.  More importantly, there is much to contemplate…and to act upon.  McLaren has no shortage of critics, his words continue to stir up.  I count myself among those already convinced of his vision, and I hope the reading of this book will result in more “converts” to the quest.

If I have something to say, if I really do want to put myself out there—teaching, speaking, writing, etc. then I need to be prepared for the kind of conversations (and accusations) that will surely await me.  I am not argumentative by nature, and I have many friends I care deeply about who place themselves squarely in the Reformed theology camp.  They idolize (er, admire) men who make me want to spit, curse and throw things.  Truthfully, I care mostly about this issue because it means so much to them.

But I can not reconcile their beliefs (i.e., their interpretation of Scripture) with my own interpretation, observation, tradition, and experience.  I simply can’t.  And maybe that’s just where I should respectfully leave it.

I’d love to hear some feedback on this one.

There were days when I was grateful for everything that London and life in the West offered—stability, a fast and uncensored Internet, and the luxury of worrying about toxicity in Hourmazd’s toiletries rather than in the propaganda murals on the street.  On other days…I felt unbearably lonely….In Tehran, the constant presence of relatives had meant that I had the pleasure of company, intellectual stimulation, and reassurance that was more steady than any parenting book, as well as time to shower, and even occasional moments of idleness.  I was poised and rested, and I actually found both working and mothering fun.  In London, I became the sort of woman, the sort of mother, who suddenly needed many extraneous and costly things—yoga classes, child-care gadgets, an agency-certified nanny, a housekeeper, bottled baby food—just to get through the week without becoming an exhausted wreck.

 And on a trip back to Iran:

We stayed with Arash’s parents, who were elated to welcome the grandson they had seen everyday for nearly a year and then not at all.  Hourmazd delighted in the company, finding incentive to turn his babble into near words, and was entertained enough to abandon his attention-thirsty naughtiness.  Watching my transformed little son play, I wondered whether this is how it was supposed to be—big families living together, generations under one roof, a whole community of well-intentioned relatives helping raise one another’s children.  I believe that children show you what they need in order to be happy, and if Hourmazd’s behavior was any measure this is what he needed: cousins, aunties, honorary aunties, and grandparents to be in his life every day, not just twice a year for a week.  Maybe I needed it, too.

 There are many accounts of unhappy living arrangements in Iran in this book.  This is mostly a singular, emotional-born reflection, but an important one nonetheless.  I am curious to know what others think on this topic, or if you have given it any thought at all.  I’m sure myriad things play into our personal views: cultural norms, relationships with family, our own personalities and desires, the number and temperament of our children….on and on.  I don’t expect this to be a conundrum with a solution, but I benefit greatly from the insight and discussion of others.  Comments are welcome from singles, childless, and men as well.

What do you think?

As for me, I could quote ad nauseum from the book—and have elsewhere (you’re welcome, Facebook friends!), but I will appropriate here just one extended passage that I found personally remarkable, from the chapter on questioning our interpretations:

What will help you to give your otherwise theoretical faith legs?  Would reading the book of Job as if it were an allegory allow the Sermon on the Mount to change your buying habits?  If so, by all means, read it as an allegory.  Does the thought of Jonah residing in the belly of a large fish inspire you to share your resources with people deprived of access to food and medical attention?  Does inerrancy of the Bible assist you in being good to homeless people?  Does it prompt you to offer free tutoring to underprivileged children?  If so, move deeper in your commitment to the doctrine of inerrancy.  Read as you need to read to be invigorated and encouraged to do what you need to do.  Then believe as if your life depends on it.  Get worked up.  Quickly.  Move your interpretations in the direction of more righteous practice, and don’t look back.  Read as you need to read to be invigorated and encouraged to do justly.  Do what you need to do.  Love your neighbor.  Think what it takes.  This is the text.  Let it mean love.  The rest is commentary.(The Sacredness of Questioning Everything, p. 169-70.)

Now, go read it.