“Even when they call us mad, when they call us subversives and communists and all the epithets they put on us, we know we only preach the subversive witness of the Beatitudes, which have turned everything upside down.”
Over at Experimental Theology, Richard Beck has some of the most thought-provoking posts around, with plenty of good discussion to go with it. Recently, one discussion on grace - the theme of the week following my last post - integrated so well what I wanted to include in my last post but didn't want it to be too long and unwieldy. So, along with the Elasticity of Grace - with its wrestling with a dangerous but maybe somewhat romantic idea of living - we flesh out the difficult messiness of grace with the Labor of Grace, which moves toward Scot McKnight's observation that the NeoReormed crowd are obsessed with God's holiness and sovereignty and end up in an adventure missing the point about grace, and it's scandalous and very, very difficult nature:
"...it's hard not to get into a fight about grace. Grace has always been scandalous. It makes no sense, morally speaking. In fact, it can seem downright immoral. Why? Because grace violates our innate, deeply rooted sense of morality. Grace isn't natural. Grace is about the hardest thing you can do. It's damn near heroic.
One of my favorite verses along these lines is 1 Peter 1.13, particularly as it is rendered in the King James Version:
Wherefore gird up the loins of your mind, be sober, and hope to the end for the grace that is to be brought unto you at the revelation of Jesus Christ.
"Gird up the loins of your mind" is pretty archaic. In modern translations it is rendered as "with minds that are fully alert," "think clearly," "preparing your minds for action," or simply "be alert."
But really, the King James gets this right. A literal rendering of the Greek is "girding up the loins of your mind."
As you are likely aware, this was a reference to what people had to do in ancient times with their tunics. To prepare for hard work or for battle you had to gather up the material hanging down around your feet and tie it up, freeing the legs for work, running, or maneuverability in battle.
It's a striking image. Particularly when we note that "girding up the mind" is connected in 1 Peter 1.13 to the words "hope" and "grace."
We tend to think grace is soft, unrealistic, and naive. Grace, along with hope, is for empty-headed flower children. This is a world full of Osama Bin Ladens! Grace and hope just aren't going to get the job done.
But 1 Peter 1.13 suggests that grace is actually like going to battle. Again, grace isn't easy or natural. It goes against every fiber of our being. "Gird up the loins of your mind." That's what grace is like. Grace is strenuous, backbreaking labor. Grace is planting your feet, bracing for the onslaught of battle. We're not picking daisies here. We're talking about loving our enemies. And there ain't nothing easy about that.
Does any of this mean that we shouldn't have killed Osama Bin Laden? Or that the "moral click" we felt upon the news of his death wasn't pointing to a legitimate good?
No, it doesn't mean, necessarily, any of those things. It simply means that past the "moral click" the Christian will be reaching for something more, something beyond the moral norms of this world.
It simply means that Christians everywhere, upon the news of Bin Laden's death, began to "gird up the loins of their minds" to begin the backbreaking labor of grace."
Strange, the elasticity of grace...I find it this morning in a short respite, a quiet place. I need it because I'm a bit crispy at the edges because I've been over-doing it a little lately, especially just before, during and after the Vineyard National Conference in Phoenix. Such a great time, but it was also such a busy time for me, and I need a little grace to just...be. The same kind of grace that is a primary element of the ancient faith of the Hebrews who were chosen and elected through grace by God to be a light to the nations.
Which reminds me: as I have been exploring my take on some "debatable issues" with the neo-Reformed crowd, a few friends have asked me to "get specific" with something in this little side road I'm taking us down, so: Election. For myself, I like what my Australian acquaintance Scott Aitken said about salvation and grace and Election (after reading a book about it - Scott is a voracious reader!): "The idea of election should be seen as a unique vocation of revealing God, rather than what is often understood as special redemptive privilege." This my friends, is an illuminating insight for me. For the neo-Reformed that is probably an extremely debatable issue (or perhaps seen as a non-debatable issue, which is a debatable issue in itself, right?).
But the elasticity of grace has just been on my mind lately. Of course, Jesus talks about elasticity too, when Jesus talks of wineskins, but we debate this issue: what in the world are the wineskins an image for? what do they represent? what - for His name's sake - did He mean?
Now it seems to me there are a plethora of interpretations concerning this, but the question remains: what is he alluding to?
wineskins as an image of covenants?
are we the wineskins?
the practice of sabbath?
the oral traditions built up around torah?
law versus grace?
I do like what my friend David Haywardhad to say about this in his review of the book Pagan Christianity (which personally I did not particularly care for) :
"Viola and Barna suggest that Jesus came as a "Revolutionary, tearing apart the old wineskin with a view to bringing in the new" (p. 246). My take on that parable is that when the new enters the old, the old simply cannot hold it. It will fall apart. And I think this is exactly what Jesus does: he simply enters our world, like a computer virus, and our systems, traditions, beliefs, theologies, practices, religion, spirituality. everything!...slowly, or rapidly, begin to unravel. They cannot hold him. He came as a free man within the system, but not part of it. He was an observant Jew and Rabbi...except when he wasn't. And he wasn't precisely when our liberation was at stake. And this, it seems to me, is the best way to be...personally and corporately."
Whatever it is about wineskins, David gets to the heart of it: the focus in the metaphor is on newness and elasticity, isn't it? Oh the dilemma: how to live a life abandoned in a Saviour whose grace has eternal elasticity?
Yet now that I think of it, we constantly must seek this sort of elasticity - being re-newed and stretched - for us to truly follow Him into the most dangerous and difficult way of living. The kind of living that may get you accused of being a traitor to dogma and doctrine and may get you executed by the "powers that be."
So...are we really willing to live the kind of life Jesus lead? The kind that could get us killed as a traitor? That's the kind of radical love that some people play with but most will not follow-through when push-comes-to-shove and the details and pressure of life in this age are brought to bear...(just as Chesterton says: 'Christianity has not been tried and found wanting; it has been found difficult and not tried.') My friend Dave Schmelzer up in Boston turned me on to one of the best speeches of all time that explores the depths of this while addressing a thoroughly buoyant and secular audience: the graduating class of 2005 at Kenyon College. He talks bravely and honestly about how easy it is to get lost in the abstract ideas that mesmerize us so much so that we miss what's happening right in front of us. I think David Foster Wallace - in this speech - pushes people with the elasticity of grace in such a profound way, because if we really trust that Jesus' message that the Reign of God has arrived in Him, it may be lurking in the crevices of our ordinary lives and experiences, those situations that are "...not only meaningful, but sacred, on fire with the same force that made the stars: love, fellowship, the mystical oneness of all things deep down."For those who are audio-inclined, you can hear the speech here: Part 1 and Part 2. For those more oriented to reading it, check it out here.
And if as David Foster Wallace suggests, "The capital-T Truth is about life BEFORE death," then perhaps all of this speaks to the amazing thing about the elasticity of grace: it stretches as far as we stretch in following after Christ.
"Every age has its own characteristics. Right now we are in an age of religious complexity. The simplicity which is in Christ is rarely found among us. In its stead are programs, methods, organizations and a world of nervous activities which occupy time and attention but can never satisfy the longing of the heart. The shallowness of our inner experience, the hollowness of our worship, and that servile imitation of the world which marks our promotional methods all testify that we in this day, know God only imperfectly, and the peace of God scarcely at all. If we would find God amid all the religious externals, we must first determine to find Him, and then proceed in the way of simplicity."
Our friends across the Pond in Vineyard UK had a national celebration of what Jesus has done, is doing, and will do with them. I got a chance to meet John and Ellie Mumford earlier this month at the VineyardUSA National Leaders Conference in Phoenix, and they are just the best kind of people: Warm. Inspiring. Witty. (Maybe a lot like their son Marcus).
Also, in the video below, I saw a few of my friends from across the pond, and well, I just miss them. Miss having tea until all hours of the morning in Ukraine with Jeremy Cook and Chris Whitelock. Miss having conversations that challenge me deeply with Jason Clark. Miss laughing until I literally fall out of my chair with Tom and Nic Hope. I miss the shared passion in Andrew Wallis and Kate who stoke the fire for seeing the Justice of the Kingdom become present...anyway, congratulations my friends and keep going!!
As I mentioned last time, I think we can all get "off" sometimes - maybe a little Lost? Leaders can certainly get into the habit - as John Wimber was famous for warning - of majoring in the minors. It's not that the "minors' are insignificant, right? It's just that the majors are the majors. And I - for one - think that one very neglected "major" is the relational. In fact, I want to go so far as to say that the relational-orientation is primary in mission. Neil Cole has been helpful in pointing this out:
"Our relational orientation is a reflection of the image of God in us. God Himself is relational and exists in a community—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. God is love because God is relational. To the Christian, God is love because he has always existed in relationship. Is love possible without someone to love? This should be the defining characteristic of our faith. All men should know that we are Christ’s disciples by the love that we have for one another."
Because God is Love, and God is relational: God takes risks. This has to be seen as part of what scholastics and monastics like to talk about when we say Missio Dei. God takes risks everyday with me, that's for sure. I'm prone to dropping Him when some new and great idea occurs to me. I have to sort of, I dunno, guard my heart and be discerning. And yet I know He wants me to take risks too, for the sake of love, just like He does with me.
Of course, many of us know the risky love of God through the extravagantly mysterious, yet fundamentally loving act of God: Incarnation. One of the most beautiful and clearest references to this in scripture is in the book of John, chapter one:"...And the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us..."or as Eugene Peterson lovingly translated it: "The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood. We saw the glory with our own eyes, the one-of-a-kind glory, like Father, like Son, Generous inside and out, true from start to finish."
Dwight Friesen, in his article Living Incarnationally, describes what we aspire to as we foster and cultivate a loving incarnational faith community in urban Pittsburgh:
"When Christ is incarnated through you and me, we will be looking for ways to empty ourselves in the service of the Father by serving others as the Holy Spirit guides us. We become active participants in a divine dance through which all of creation is being reconciled to Christ. This is a dynamic faith process that will always find unique expression through each follower of Christ and each cluster of Christ-followers."
Thus our dream - perhaps not so unique, but the discovery and expression if it will be - is of hitting the 'sweetspot' where (1) the Father is already at work, (2) the World might be missing it, and (3) the Church is out there doing it's best CSI-imitation living and seeking to discover God at work in the world and surprisingly connect the two.
All this happens in actual, abiding relationship, just as branches abide in the Vine, right? The goal of our doctrine, the goal of our theology, our prime directive is knowing God, not just knowing about Him. But in order to abide in relationship, we have to restore this relationship, because God's objective is restored relationship. But restoring broken relationships can be difficult to bridge, as Archbishop Tutu can certainly witness.
Jesus advocates the audacious relational-approach to God by modeling for us how to address our Father in heaven. He says: "Abba", which is basically "Dada." "Poppa." These are beautiful, relational terms that a child uses to identify and seek their loving Father. It speaks to the depths of an intimate knowing and a simple trusting.
I also think this relational-orientation inaugurates Kingdom breakthrough, where we see amazing things happen when we are out seeking to reconcile and restore relationships. For those of us in the Vineyard movement, this is deeply significant. We see Jesus doing signs and wonders that restore relationship and telling stories about this over and over again. In one of Jesus' most famous stories - known popularly as the Prodigal Son, he points to how things are in the Reign of God (BTW - this is the case in all the "Lost" parables - Lost sheep, Lost coin, Lost Son - and how they all end with throwing a party - which is a relational gathering, or perhaps even a gathering that fosters and cultivates relationships!! )
Back in February, I had this really great conversation at dinner one evening while I was attending the Society of Vineyard Scholars conference. I ended up sitting next to my new friend Andy Kaminski. End's up, Andy was presenting a paper the next day on - you guessed it - the relational understanding that undergirds scripture. The key criteria in scripture regarding how we live our lives and what we do with them isn't "have we acted rational" but "whether we have acted rightly in our relationships." Scripture is also clear that (warning: loaded term) "salvation" isn't merely about God rescuing us from the awful world, but the rescue of the world itself through the restoration of relationship with God, all of which is happening through His People connecting more and more people to Him. But it doesn't stop there, right? As my friend Bill points out, this connects them to "us" as well, in a life lived together.
When we abidingly seek to be in relationship with God, we tend to get on His Agenda...and when we do that, it changes things...significantly, at what we might think of as a plate-tectonic-level. Michael Frost goes into those things so well, that I might as well just let him say them:
"The meeting house is not a consecrated edifice, and if there is anything holy about it, it must be the lives of the people who meet there. The Friends feel that there must be a vital and sustained connection between worship and daily life. When their ideal is attained, their meeting is merely the community search for that guidance which they covet for every important act of their lives."
Last year, after slopping away trying to deal with a little flood here, I sat one evening enjoying a beer and the smoke of a good cigar. And as God met me in that moment of smoke rising, I was gazing into the deep of the star-lit night...and an image caught my eye off to the side; it was a moth at the street light, flying around it, and into it, and crashing, crashing, crashing into it...
...and I remembered something and something related occurred to me almost simultaneously...
I remembered: someone telling me that moths use the moon to navigate.
The moon does not move out of position if the moth flies in a straight line, thus they use it to navigate...but street lamps tend to confuse moths. If the moth flies in a straight line, it thinks the lamp's position has changed, and as the moth continues, the lamp "moves" again; thus the moth flies in circles, moving closer and closer until it is trapped...crashing into the street light again and again. Sad, in a little moth way, right?
This moon theory says that moths know that the brightest light at night-the moon-is always "up." but if they mistake a street lamp for the moon, they find themselves in the utterly confusing position of flying above or past what they understand to be the "moon." Thus they can no longer navigate. but also, the brightness of the light at close quarters makes them think it's daytime, so they go to sleep.
and something occurred to me: we are just like that moth some times. While we use the Greater Light of Christ as our guidance on our journey of life and adventures in faith, it is well. But it is when smaller lights (like some of the "doctrines" we hold tightly to...both the true and false ones) get in the way, and they can eclipse Christ and we get confused or disoriented. And while some of our 'doctrines' are well-conceived and based in truth, they are not the Truth (who is a Person), and thus they can easily de-center Christ, and as we are busy circling our lives around something that is not Christ...we get disoriented, but cannot quite put words to this strange feeling that something is out-of-place.
Thus, my issue with a lot of what I talked about last time regarding the neo-Reformed (really - as Jamie Smith pointed out to me, it's the neo-Calvinist that I'm really troubled by). They seem to be making issues and fighting about things that are a matter of conscience or indifference (the word the apostle Paul uses in scripture is 'odiofera') in seeking to follow and obey Christ. I do appreciate how the Vineyard has handled this with these matters, as my friend Steve Schenk posted the other day:
GUIDELINES FOR HOW TO LIVE WITH PEOPLE IN THE VINEYARD WHO HAVE A DIFFERING PERSPECTIVE
I. General Guidelines For Relationships
A. Accept that their view is a matter of conscience in obeying the scriptures.
B. Obviously, this mutual respect has to be worked out by listening well to one another and by careful use of our language so as not to show any disrespect to one another.
C. Abstain from using emotive or impugning language.
D. Endeavor to hear and understand one another.
E. Although it is quite acceptable to state what you believe on a point of disagreement, the basis for your views, and what you believe the possible consequences of accepting the differing view could be, these should be done without personal attack or judgment on the one who disagrees with you, and should be expressed with humility.
F. Show the costly side of loving one another by considering the high importance of the interests of others and putting such consideration into actual practice.
G. Speak respectfully about the various views.
H. Acknowledge that this is one of the "debatable issues" where good Christians can disagree in good conscience.
...but all of this feels like it's moving me into the depths of the relational-orientation of God, so that's where I want to pick it up next post...
+Please rouse us, O Lord...let us not lose our way in the smaller lights, but with grace for each other in "debatable issues" help us navigate our way with You as our Center. Amen+
Faith is like floating in seventy thousand fathoms of water. If you struggle, if you tense up and thrash about, you will eventually sink. But if you relax and trust, you will float.
I intended to move into the underlying undercurrents of missional-monastic and contemplative-charismatic as we pick up our journey and musings post-Easter, but before we go there, I want to follow a rabbit down the hole for a bit, only because it has been a quite lively topic in some of the circles I frequent, and...well, I think it's worth our while to journey down this trail. Of course, you'll probably have to read the next 4 Pitt posts to see why I think it's worth it, but you only have to read the last quote of this one to see why it's significant for us (of course, that doesn't mean I want you to skip the next three, OK?)
In an article a while back, Collin Hansen coined a phrase that has come up in a lot of conversations I have been in lately: Young, Restless, Reformed. Hansen points out a recent surge and movement that has been called Neo-Reformed,
"Already, this latest surge of Reformed theology has divided Southern Baptist churches and raised questions about the future of missions. Its exuberant young advocates reject generic evangelicalism and tout the benefits of in-depth biblical doctrine. They have once again brought the perennial debate about God's sovereignty and humans' free will to the forefront. The evidence for the resurgence is partly institutional and partly anecdotal. But it's something that a variety of church leaders observe. While the Emergent "conversation" gets a lot of press for its appeal to the young, the new Reformed movement may be a larger and more pervasive phenomenon. It certainly has a much stronger institutional base."
Since first taking notice of this burgeoning group, I have a few observations concerning this restless, neo-Reformed crowd: they're passionate! They have passion, but a passion for...what exactly?
For systematic theology and arguing which theory of the Atonement is best (and of course these neo-reformed all ready know the correct answer, riiiight?)
For being heresy hunters and holding to 16th Century interpretations of scripture, while deriding vigorously all others as heretical, even if those interpretations are within the "generous" and historical orthodoxy of the Church
To me, this neo-Reformed phenomenon seems like a fall-back to old, hardened ideologies of another age, and thus once again grasping toward the certitudes of Modernity all while in the transitional throes of PostModernity. Now, I was trained as an historian, and I certainly have a keen appreciation of the heritage of past ages and persons on whose shoulders we stand on, and, I suppose, in tough times of transition people do want to reach out for something "solid", right? So I can't say I blame them.
But, here's the thing:my hope and dream for cultivating a faith community in urban Pittsburgh is that we dare to risk more. That while we plumb the depths of our faith and heritage and appreciate them in the present, we don't run back to them for safety...to avoid risking being the people God wants us to be in the here-and-now of the now-and-not-yet.
While the Neo-Reformed crowd seem to hold to great "doctrine" (I'll have a bit more to say about doctrine in the next few posts...) espoused by brilliant guys like John Calvin, my hope is that we trust God enough to learn to hold on to Him rather than ideologies or liturgies of certitude.
And I keep coming back to something Walter Brueggemann said, and I think it's going to be really significant for us:
"We all have a hunger for certitude, and the problem is that the Gospel is not about certitude, it's about fidelity...fidelity is a relational category and certitude is a flat, mechanical category. So we have to acknowledge our thirst for certitude and then recognize that if you had all the certitudes in the world it would not make the quality of your life any better because what we must have is fidelity."