Driving the Wrong Direction on a One Way Street

I keep having the same conversation with different people.  They ask, "What does the Bible say about __________?"  And, I'm reticent to answer this particular question--especially in the way it is often asked--because I come off sounding like your typical elite who seems only to make things worse, obfuscating what should be clearly understood.  (See?  Even the word "obfuscate" contributes to the problem.)  By the time I'm finished, my recent conversation partner has lost all interest.  Their boredom is obvious.  They stare at me with that "oh-you-really-don't-want-to-answer-this-question-because-you-like-to-make-simple-things-difficult" look I've come to recognize so well.  Their blank expression screams, "Just give me the answer, you moron."

Here's my problem:  the Bible doesn't say anything.  It must be read.  And, we all are readers.  Yet, some read more than others.  In fact, I've come to the recent conclusion that most Christ believers don't read the Bible.  They consult it.  They peek into it.  But, they don't read it.  Why?  Because to them it's boring.  It's verbose.  It's not handy.  It doesn't get to the heart of the matter soon enough.  It doesn't answer their question.  And therein lies the rub.

I think most Christ followers come to the Bible with their questions, expecting the Scriptures to serve them.  We are the masters of meaning.  We demand answers.  So, we go to the Bible to find them.  Then, one of two things usually happens:  we go to the small parts of the Bible familiar to us, the passages we love the most, and find our answers.  Or, when we can't find what we're looking for, we go to a so-called "expert" so we don't have to do the work ourselves--which leads to the second problem.

The Bible was never meant to be read that way--as a slave to the mastery of our demands for an answer.  If it were, it certainly would have been put together by God more accessibly.  Rather, the Scriptures were meant to inform our questions.  Better yet, the Bible was inspired to form our questions.  Rather than ask, "What does the Bible say about homosexuality?" it rather prods us to wonder, "Who is my neighbor?"  Indeed, one might be able to answer the first question if we were to ask the second.

Cursed Christians

It's a sad tendency in the Body of Christ:  Christ believers who see themselves as "cursed by God."  They feel like they have the anti-Midas touch, whatever they do turns golden opportunities into rusty results.  They've lost a sense of God's blessing (something that Paul was adament to claim--for himself as well as his converts--despite his detractors, see Gal. 4:12-15).  According to Paul, this happens when Christians fall under the spell of believing we are supposed to earn God's blessing, deserve His favor, by keeping the law.  Therefore, these law-abiders believe they're getting what they deserve when bad things happen to them.  Break God's law and you endure divine punishment.  It's as if God were playing "whack the mole" in the game of sin managment.  But, after a while, suffering the body blows of life's disappointments, many give up trying to please the impossible standard of God's reciprocal love.  "I'm cursed by God."

There's so much wrong here, I don't know where to begin.  But, let me start with this:  God's love cannot be earned.  He loves us regardless.  We call it grace (Paul's favorite way of describing the economy of God's salvation).  Since we cannot earn His blessing, neither can we incite His wrath--as if He loses patience and finally "let's us have it."  How do I know this for certain?  Because, if that's the way God works, on a quid pro quo basis, then the cross means nothing.

It's sad how many Christ believers cannot see the cross of Jesus as a blessing, the grace of God that changes everything.  In loss we find gain, in weakness we are strong, in giving power away we are empowered, in death we live.  Because of Christ, none of us are cursed by God.  Period.

What's even sadder to me is how many Christians point out the weaknesses of other believers and call it a curse, the failures of others and call it divine punishment.  "Look.  She's getting what she deserves."  To which Paul would reply:  "On the contrary, none of us deserve the cross of Jesus.  It is the sheer, blessed grace of God."

Take a look in the mirror

It's become rather trendy for Christians to criticize the Church.  Most books, articles, blogs do well--attract a bunch of readers--if they take a pound of flesh in their biting critique of all things ecclesial.  (One opportunistic blogger feigned surprise when her blog post, which explained why she "left the Church," received so many hits.)  The so-called "emergents" got the ball rolling.  Now, it's headed downhill so fast no one dares to get in the way and stop it.  Can you imagine what it would sound like to defend the Church today?  Shrill, self-serving, obscurantist, proud, denial.

But, here's the problem:  when we criticize the Church we're criticizing ourselves.  I don't hear that sentiment in most of the self-appointed prophets who are out to bash the Church.  It sounds to me more as if they think they're pointing out the faults of others.  "Those people over there--they are the problem." But, the truth of the matter is the "other" is always "us" in the Body of Christ.  You're never going to straighten out the people who "don't get ________ right" (fill in the blank, "gospel" or "community" or "faith" or "doctrine" ad infinitum, ad nauseum).  Why?  Because our faith, our gospel, our doctrine, our community is a shared experience.

Think of it like this:  we're family in the Body of Christ.  Apply the same concept to your biological family.  Do we ever believe we're going to "straighten out" our brother?  Sister?  Parent?  Even child?  And, don't we automatically know that when we're criticizing our family we're criticizing ourselves?  Due to our shared DNA we own up to the fact: "You know, I got that from my father," or "You're just like your sister."

At the risk of sounding sentimental, our shared spiritual DNA in Christ should make us all own up to the fact that we belong to each other, whether we admit it or not.  That should inject a little humilty into the critical conversation about the failings of the Church.

After all, we are talking about ourselves.

Why Sermons Need More Bible

I just finished a six-month promotional tour (sounds trendy, doesn't it?) of my book on Paul's Spirituality (IVP).  I spoke in churches, during conferences, at retreats--and I'm so grateful to God for the warm reception I received.  I continue to get affirming comments, emails, and letters about the book.  But one off-handed comment nearly floored me.  Even after hundreds of conversations, this single remark continues to rumble around in my head.

A few months ago after speaking at a church, a very well-dressed, middle-aged man asked me if the sessions had been recorded.  He explained how he had missed the event due to other obligations--half apologizing, half justifying--but wanted to know what I had said because he was intrigued by the subject. 

"I don't know if they recorded the talks.  I guess you'll have to check with the pastor."  He replied, "Well, if they didn't that's too bad.  I really want to know what you said."  (Of course, at this point, you know what I'm thinking.  I'm expecting him to ask if they still have copies of the book available at their bookstore.)  So, after an awkward bit of silence, I sheepishly held up the book and said, "you could get a copy.  I think they still have a few for sale."  To which he dismissively replied (without an ounce of shame), "Oh, I don't read."

Now, you might think the man was illiterate or had poor vision.  Neither was the case.  He explained that he read sports magazines every now and then.  But, he never could get into reading a book.  I'm a little ashamed of what I did next, but I couldn't help it.  I said, "Oh.  You don't read?" then motioned to the Bible he held in his hand, with a quizzical look on my face.  He replied by offering a nervous giggle and said something like, "Yeah.  For a group of people who rely upon a book, it sure makes being a Christian hard."

It's an amazing irony.  We live during an age when written information is more accessible than any other period of human history.  Same is true for the Bible.  It's everywhere.  More people have more access to multiple copies/versions of the Bible than ever before--not to mention all of the books/literature written to help readers make sense of Scripture.  And yet, despite the literary flood, our world is becoming more biblically illiterate every day.  The reason?  "I don't read."

Two observations:  for a writer, this is depressing--especially for a guy like me.  My target readership--evangelical Christians--don't read.  The guy said so without any embarassment at all.  Said it to the author, straight faced.  I really can't get over that.  But, then again, my heart is strangely warmed when I remember Christianity got its start during a time when nearly 80% of the population was illiterate.  The first Christ followers depended upon the public reading of the Scriptures in order to hear God's Word.  Then the light came on inside my head.

If there were ever a time when preachers need to spend more time (say, 10 minutes of their sermon?) reading the Scriptures to their listeners, it is now.  Rather than focus on the memorable illustration or the clever, real-life anecdote, perhaps it's time to read the Bible to Christians.  Why?  Not only because reading Scripture should be an important part of our worship, but for the more obvious reason.  Like the man said, "I don't read."

Dress Code for Pharisees

It's happening more everyday.  I walk into class and at least one male student makes a comment--usually positive--about what I'm wearing.  They don't believe me when I say, "Thanks."  It seems a simple response isn't enough.  They want some commentary about my clothes.  So, this is what they get . . .

"In my day, a guy would never make a comment about what another guy was wearing.  Girls, however, commented on girls fashion often.  Is this another bit of evidence of the feminization of our culture?"  [Read the article that came out last year, "The End of Men," in the Atlantic Monthly.]

"I don't care what you think--whether you like what I'm wearing or not" (usually said with a smiling smirk--but they still don't believe me).

"I've been wearing stuff like this for a long time" (in this case, a student thought I was being fashionable because I was wearing a v-neck t-shirt).

"I'm sorry.  I don't understand."

I say that a lot.  I really don't understand the interest--does it border on obsession?--with fashion.

I told my son about the time I was in San Francisco last year for the SBL conference.  Twenty-somethings were lined up outside, on the sidewalk, with their tents and sleeping bags.  I thought that, perhaps, I happened to walk by the Occupy Movement in San Fran.  But, the crowd seemed too dressed up for such an anti-establishment cause.  The next morning, they were still there, but the line was much longer.  "I guess some concert is about to start soon???"  After attending several sessions that morning, I walked by the crowd again.  By this point, the line was two-blocks long.  Curiosity got the best of me.

"Why are you all here?"  A young lady dressed very fashionably said, "Versace is opening their new line today!"  "You mean all these people have been waiting all night and day for that?"  She, looking very quisically at me, said, "Of course."

My son wasn't surprised at all by the episode.  I was incredulous.

I showed up recently in church wearing a suit and a tie.  A friend asked, "What's the occasion?" I said, "Nothing."  "Are you preaching somewhere?"  I said, "No.  Just wanted to wear this today."  He quipped, "So, are you playing the role of the 'rich man' expecting to get the best seat in the house?"

All of this got me to thinking, "What would it take to dress like a Pharisee today?"  Fine clothes?  Rags?  Suit and tie?  Hoodies and torn jeans?

I don't know because I don't understand.

For those who may not know

Dr. Scot McKnight is blogging on Spirituality According to Paul. Here's the link to his fourth post: Paul’s Spiritual Vision 4

I'm grateful to God for Scot's generous review of my work. And, I think he's raising some good points for discussion.

As I've mentioned before, Scot's blog, Jesus Creed, is one of the few blogs I read every day (another is by Mark Roberts: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/markdroberts/).

What makes the Jesus Creed blog so unique is the gracious manner in which he engages a variety of topics--it especially shows up in the comments section. Here's a first-class NT scholar dialoguing with all kinds of posters, engaging arguments in a non-threatening way. Honestly, sometimes I marvel over his patience--especially when a poster takes advantage of Scot's graciousness by dismissing substantive dialogue with nonchalence. All kinds of voices show up at this "round table," and I've found many of Scot's posters to be very insightful. Imagine, a blog where persons don't shout past one another but actually talk to each other with respect and dignity. Is this what some people mean by "virtual Church"?

A Bloody Christmas

There are so many add-ons to the Christmas story, it's hard to tell what's real and what's make-believe. I'm not talking about Santa, Frosty, or Rudolf. Rather, I'm referring to the ways we have spiced up the story of Jesus' birth, as if it were a rather boring story without our embellishments.

Of course, there are the obvious fictive parts that everyone recognizes, like there was no drummer boy, talking donkey, or even "three kings" from the orient. Other additions sneak in without our noticing: there was no stable, no inn keeper, no angels singing (they chant), no magi visiting the baby in the manger (every year, when my wife would bring out the nativity scenes, my children would hear their father rattle on and on about how "wrong" the ideallic scene really is). But, what really bothers me are the parts we ignore, especially Matthew's version of the Christmas story, where he relates the story of how Joseph and Mary became refugees because a paranoid King ordered genocide for Bethlehem.

I've never seen that scene recreated during a Christmas play. Can you imagine? Herodian soldiers enter stage right, bearing swords, and slaughtering all the two-years on the Bethlehem stage. Parents would shriek in horror, "Don't look, Johnny. I don't know what they're trying to do up there. Never seen the like."

But, there it is in Matthew's story. In all of its glory. And, we turn our eyes away from the tragedy because everyone knows Christmas is about warm feelings, nostalgic recollections, and serenity in the midst of chaos (often a chaos of our own creation).

And yet, somehow I find myself drawn to Matthew's story. Not because I have some peculiar desire for dwelling on the macabre realities of life. No, somehow I find hope knowing that, even when Jesus was born, there were people in Bethlehem screaming, "Where is God?" Rachel mourning for her children.

Mary probably grieved over the news down in Egypt. After all, these women were a part of their little community; friends who shared stories and daily chores. Their children played together. Such news may have even compelled Mary to ask the same question in the face of such human suffering, "God, where are you?"

He's a vulnerable baby, hiding out in Egypt, waiting for a wicked king to die.

For some reason, I love that part of the story that nobody tells.