The Amazing Expandable, Shape-able, Inexhaustible Gospel

It's a funny thing evangelicals sometimes do: placing all the emphasis on a personal relationship with God, and reading the Bible for yourself to see what it says, and then wondering why the next generations don't arrive at the exact same theology that theirs did.  There are at least two ways to go about this: you can either focus on indoctrinating children with your precise version of orthodoxy, OR you can teach them to love God, love their neighbors, follow the teachings of Christ, study the Word of God, and tread their own paths in the process.  I would say evangelicals as a whole have--thankfully--done the latter, even though they have done so in spite of a continually resurfacing impulse to want it both ways, as if to say, "Do it yourself, but use our blueprint." "Read the Word yourself, but just make sure you end up agreeing with all of our interpretations."  "Be Spirit-led, but let us arbitrate what's truly of the Spirit or not." 

Even though each new movement within Christianity likes to think of itself as hearkening back to to teachings and practices of the earliest Christians, a bit of genuine honesty should force us to admit that we are reshaping the Gospel to suit the needs and desires of our world, in our particular generation.  This sounds like heresy to some--to do anything with the Gospel other than simply "do what it says."  But the church survives and thrives just like anything else does: by adapting.  God has intended it this way.  It's part of the reason why he sent the Holy Spirit, to work alongside the church and guide us in our Gospel-spreading mission (see Acts 15:28, "It seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us . . . ")  The substance of the Gospel remains the same, but each generation, each culture, each nation, each revival gives it a new shape.  The Gospel is shape-able because it is expandable.  It is inexhaustible.  I think Jesus may have compared it to a mustard seed or something like that.


So when the old guard laments the fact that the new generations have deviated from some of their cherished doctrines, my response is, "You taught me how to do this." And then, "Thank you for doing so!"  Thank you for teaching me to love God with everything I have and love my neighbor as myself.  Thank you for teaching me to read the Bible for myself and not just blindly accept church authority.  Thank you for teaching me to interact with God daily on a personal level.  We, with the Spirit's leading, can continue spreading the Gospel, reshaping it along the way, precisely because you, with the Spirit's leading, did it before us.  And we will teach our children to do the same, in a way that is knowledgeable and respectful of the rich history of the body of Christ, rather than of a spirit of sheer rebellion.           

My Token Atheist Friend

I'm Christian, he's atheist.  I'm ebony, he's ivory.  (Okay, we're both ivory. Not every story can be perfect!) 

I met Logan when I was working for Chi Alpha at UL.  Chi Alpha is a campus ministry organization that I was involved with while in college.  After graduating, I worked for them for a few years, filling a number of roles, one of which included teaching a class called "Foundations of the Faith."  During my last year there, Logan came poking his heathen head around, trying to stir up trouble.  Just kidding.  Logan is one of the most morally-driven people I know.  The real reason he came to my class was because he believed that truth is worth spreading and sharing and talking about.  That's something you have to respect, especially if you profess a religion whose founder commanded his followers to, "Go and make disciples of all nations."

So Logan would come to my class, sit and listen attentively, and then every single week he would come to me with questions afterward.  And every single week, we would end up getting coffee and sitting down and talking for hours. (For those unfamiliar, this is a luxury reserved only for college students and retirees.)  One topic would blend seamlessly and endlessly into another, until our only cue for stopping was when one of us could no longer hold in the coffee.  Mother nature would force the break, and we would just take that as our stopping point and pick up again the following week.

After the class was over, Logan would continue to spontaneously drop by my office at Chi Alpha.  As long as I wasn't doing anything terribly pressing (I usually wasn't), we would get coffee and chat, just like old times.  And by "chat" I mean talk very seriously for hours about God, Jesus, faith, and life.  (I eventually had to make it a point to start asking him questions about his life because it suddenly dawned on me one day that my total time talking to him exceeded any one of my own family or friends, and I barely knew anything about him.  That was the nature of our conversations.  No small talk.  Just straight to the deep stuff.)

As I mentioned earlier, this all took place during my last year at Chi Alpha.  I had been working there for four years and had decided I wanted to try something new.  Then something funny happened.  I had applied to work at Starbucks, and shortly before I was hired, I found out Logan had JUST started working at the very same location I was hoping to get hired at.  A few weeks later I got the job, and just like that, Logan and I were co-workers. Just at the moment when circumstances would have separated us, they brought us back together again.  Of course, he would chalk this up to coincidence.  As you may have guessed, I believe it was providence.  However, the reason I say that might surprise you.

Unquestionably, I believe in the human responsibility to share what we believe to be true and good, as well as the Biblical mandate that I, as a Christian, should share the Gospel.  But I do not believe that God has saddled me with a special burden to convert this particularly unconvinced soul.  Friends have sometimes asked me if I feel that he has come any closer to faith because of our relationship.  I refuse to even speculate.  I do not take credit if he is.  I do not accept guilt if he isn't.

There is only one life I can control, and that to a limited degree.  That is my own.  So when I say that my friendship with Logan is part of providence, I refer to the role Logan has played in my own life.  Every friend adds something unique to our lives, and Logan adds something particularly invaluable to me:  a questioner of my most cherished beliefs and assumptions.  No matter what our beliefs, if we have even a shred of humility, we must sometime wonder if we are wrong, right?  Logan helps me feel that I have taken at least a step towards wondering more honestly and thoroughly.       

This isn't to say that I value him only for that function.  We really are friends, and I'm happy to report that we now sometimes talk about things other than religion.  But I'm also happy to predict that our respective beliefs will always have a place at the center of our rapport.  Those things are immensely important to us both.  I've learned that sharing beliefs is reciprocal.  To share properly is to invite and welcome other beliefs, including criticism of your own beliefs.  I've decided that I have no desire for a faith that cannot withstand that sort of exchange.  I implore everyone to seek out friends with very different beliefs.  If done honestly, it can only change you for better, never for worse.       

"Get in There! Yeah yeah!"

Then I heard another voice from heaven say:

“Come out of her, my people,

so that you will not share in her sins,

so that you will not receive any of her plagues;" (Revelation 18:4)

It seems rare that this verse is given serious consideration in modern Evangelical sermons and conversations.  Granted, throughout church history there has been a tug-o-war between the ideas of "letting your light shine" on one side and being "holy," "separate," "in the world, but not of it" on the other.  But it seems to me that if  either side is winning right now, it's the side for which being involved has become an unquestioned value: Of course we should vote; of course we should lobby for issues that matter to us; of course we should engage in "culture wars."  Many Christians can't see any reason why one wouldn't get involved in such things.

But if there is a Biblical context in which God commands his people, "come out of her," "get un-involved," then I ask, where is that reflected in Biblical preaching today?  I'm not saying the message to get involved is always wrong, but shouldn't it at least sometimes be to get uninvolved?  Shouldn't there be some discussion about discernment to differentiate between the two, rather than the assumption that getting involved is always the right thing to do?

The political and cultural battles of our day are full of disrespect, greed, coercion, and hatred, and most of what we hear from Christian leadership is, "Get in there!"  Perhaps some should rather listen to the voice from heaven saying, "Come out!"  

 

Finishing from the Start

I'm on page 830 of a book that weighs in at just over 1,000 pages.  I started it over 2 years ago, put it down for awhile, realized I hadn't retained anything, restarted from the beginning, started taking notes to retain the information better, realized I wasn't enjoying it as much that way, then made a New Year's resolution to finish it by April of this year.  Here I am in August with almost 200 pages to go. 

My slowness in reading it has not been for lack of discipline or desire.  I very much enjoy reading it, and I read often enough.  My concern has been reading it right.  Not that there's any one right way to read a book.  What I mean is, reading it the way I really want to, maximizing both my enjoyment of it and its educational benefits.  It's dense and packed with difficult-to-remember names, places, and ideas, so I don't find it beneficial to fly through it like a novel.  But at the same time, I don't find it desirable to read it like I'm studying for a test.   I've taken my time in finding a good balance--a pace that's not too quick to remember, but not too slow to enjoy.

At various times, I've been tempted to feel discouraged with how long it has taken me.  A few times, I even thought about stopping, wondering how many other good books I'm missing out on for this one.  It feels good to be so close to the end of it.  A pride of accomplishment seems to always accompany the act of finishing a book.  But I find a more worthwhile pride in the fact that I took pleasure in it, as well as having retained a reasonable amount of the material. 

There are times to just be done with something, and then there are times to finish. We can be done with something in an instant.  Ironically, finishing has meaning for each present moment, beginning to end.  So then, when we decide something is worth finishing, the important question is never "Am I finished yet?" but "Am I finishing right now?" 

Opposng Emmanuel, Menino, AND Savoie--Is It Consistent?

One of the oddest things to come out of the ongoing controversy surrounding Chick-fil-A is that conservatives have ended up on the same side of the battle as their arch-nemesis, the ACLU.  Most of us seem to agree that attempts to ban Chick-fil-A from certain cities, due to the viewpoints of its owner, is an egregious violation of civil liberties.

But that's where consensus stops.  There is a very different battle being waged on the same front--a battle in which our nation is seemingly irreconcilably split down the middle.  It is in this battle that the Christian response of rallying around Chick-fil-A gives me malaise.  For many Christians, this whole debacle has little to do with civil liberties and much more to do with opposing gay marriage.  This is where I fall out of line with so many of my fellow Christians.  They seem less concerned with supporting Dan Cathy's right to say what he said and more concerned with sticking it to the gay community.

I may be off in my analysis, but it's at least consistent with another controversy going on right here in my hometown of Lafayette, LA.  The University of Louisiana at Lafayette has recently begun to offer an LGBT studies minor through the liberal arts college.  Congressman Jeff Landry, along with local conservative groups and religious leaders, have sought, unsuccessfully thus far, to oppose the move and have the minor dropped. It seems to me that in both cases, Christians are simply wanting their way, and any talk of concern for civil liberties must be a trojan horse.  If constitutional freedom is really what's at stake, then it seems like you would want to allow students to study a subculture that has been becoming an increasingly important part of every aspect of our society.  Only a concern for traditional marriage, over and above a concern for civil liberties, could cause one to oppose both Chick-fil-A bannings  and UL's LGBT studies minor.

What Do You Want to Hear?

"Hold fast to reproof, don't let go.
Keep it, for it is your life." -Proverbs 4:13


Imagine something with me.  You have some virus on your computer.  The virus makes your computer frustratingly slow, and may even be stealing your personal information for malicious purposes.  But there's good news! You know exactly how to remove the virus, and it's actually quite simple.  But there's bad news . . . every time you attempt to remove it, the computer shuts down.  It just turns itself off.  Horrible, right?


I have that virus.  Not on my computer but in my brain.  Unfortunately, you probably have it as well.  It's called an aversion to reproof.  While it may seem somewhat natural, it's actually malignant and fatal.  It essentially makes you immune to medicine.  By it's very nature, it won't allow anyone else to remove it.  Only you.


Although it never disappears completely, once you identify it and begin to treat it, you can mitigate the symptoms significantly.  Other viruses and diseases can be treated and removed, and your overall health can drastically improve.  


This computer virus analogy helps me understand just how dumb I am being when I follow my instinct to run from feedback/reproof/correction.  So many times I have just shut down when I started to hear things I didn't want to hear.  I thank God for the wisdom of his Word, and for friends and bosses and co-workers and experiences that have helped me to start retraining that instinct.  And now I sometimes actually manage to run towards reproof, rather than away from it. 


Physical life, as most biologists define it, requires growth.  If something does not grow, it is not considered to be alive.  It's unfortunate that once we reach a certain age, we consider ourselves "all grown up."  If we have no more growing to do, we are dead.  This is why the proverb says, "it is your life."  It has been my experience lately that my biggest "growth spurts" happen when I embrace reproof, and so I have I made it my goal to heed the word of God on this matter.       

The Crazy Couch Coincidence

Swinging in a hammock chair on my parent's patio, I recently learned something about them that I either never knew or had forgotten.  They told me how when they were dating, the first time my mom had gone over to my dad's apartment, she discovered he had a couch that she had previously owned.  She'd donated it to Salvation Army, and he bought it, well before they had ever met.

As I listened to that story, and watched them smile as they told it, I imagined how that experience must have deepened their mutual sense of connection to one another--that feeling that they truly belonged together.

It's oddly comforting to know that I was born not just from sex, but from romantic love.  It's humbling in a way, the thought that my story is a little branch shooting off from someone else's story.  But it also seems to be a boost to my sense of self-worth, knowing that I owe my existence to a loving relationship.

It also makes me think that this is perhaps why Christ felt it so important to know God as a loving father.  Even if I had come from a one-night stand, or a broken home, I could still know that I am a creation of love, a love as eternal and pure as anything can be.