Jesus Creed

What do you think of McCain’s VP choice? Sarah Palin, governor of Alaska.

I’m wondering what your thoughts are on Obama’s acceptance speech? What did you like and what did you not like? As always on the Jesus Creed, civil remarks (and they can be appropriately critical) will be accepted.

If the exodus is the primal act of redemption, the Jubilee of Leviticus 25 is the primal act of restoration. So Chris Wright in The Mission of God. One text that has played a big role in anabaptist thinking, and very little in most Western theology, is the Jubilee.

Why has this text been ignored? It shaped Isaiah 61 and Jesus in Luke 4:18-19, and seems behind Acts 2 and 4’s famous descriptions of the earliest Christians in Jerusalem. What we can we learn from it? Why not exploit this great economic theory for modern local church ministries? What could we do as a result?

See text below.

Socialists love it, but they often misuse it. Capitalists avoid it, but they too misuse it. Wright’s got some good stuff here.

The social angle of Jubilee is the kinship system of ancient Israel: the extended family. The economic angle of Jubilee is Israel’s system of land tenure: there was at the beginning an equitable distribution of land and Israelite families had an inalienable right to that land. But things didn’t always go well. The theological angle of Jubilee is that it was God’s land for God’s people.

The fundamental themes of Jubilee then are liberty — from debt and bondage to debt — and return — humans returned to their land and the family to the land. So, this is not about “re-distribution” of land but of a principle of restoring folks to the land they already own.

The purpose was to preserve the socioeconomic fabric of multiple-household land tenure that protected the small family. The law was shaped to protect the economic viability of families.

On the issue of whether or not Jubilees ever occurred: Wright thinks they did. Silence doesn’t prove much in the ancient world. The social world implicit in Jubilee was so disrupted by improper ownership etc that it was increasingly difficult to practice.

So what is the value of Jubilee for today?

1. Economic: there should be a broad equitable distribution of resources. It critiques not only excessive personal ownership but also excessive collectivism.
2. Social: the importance of the viability of the family.
3. Theological: Jubilee involves God’s sovereignty and providence, God’s redemption and atonement, and God’s justice and promise for the future.

The Jubilee gained life as a metaphor:

1. Isaiah 61
2. Jesus in Luke 4:18-19
3. The early church

I can’t summarize it all; the post is getting too long. Wright explores the centrality of the cross — which he sees (admirably) holistically and not just personally. And he questions the use of the “priority” of evangelism over social justice and prefers the “ultimacy” of evangelism within the holistic work of God. (This theme has been seen before.)

The Year of Jubilee
8 “ ‘Count off seven sabbaths of years—seven times seven years—so that the seven sabbaths of years amount to a period of forty-nine years. 9 Then have the trumpet sounded everywhere on the tenth day of the seventh month; on the Day of Atonement sound the trumpet throughout your land. 10 Consecrate the fiftieth year and proclaim liberty throughout the land to all its inhabitants. It shall be a jubilee for you; each one of you is to return to his family property and each to his own clan. 11 The fiftieth year shall be a jubilee for you; do not sow and do not reap what grows of itself or harvest the untended vines. 12 For it is a jubilee and is to be holy for you; eat only what is taken directly from the fields.
13 “ ‘In this Year of Jubilee everyone is to return to his own property.
14 “ ‘If you sell land to one of your countrymen or buy any from him, do not take advantage of each other. 15 You are to buy from your countryman on the basis of the number of years since the Jubilee. And he is to sell to you on the basis of the number of years left for harvesting crops. 16 When the years are many, you are to increase the price, and when the years are few, you are to decrease the price, because what he is really selling you is the number of crops. 17 Do not take advantage of each other, but fear your God. I am the Lord your God.
18 “ ‘Follow my decrees and be careful to obey my laws, and you will live safely in the land. 19 Then the land will yield its fruit, and you will eat your fill and live there in safety. 20 You may ask, “What will we eat in the seventh year if we do not plant or harvest our crops?” 21 I will send you such a blessing in the sixth year that the land will yield enough for three years. 22 While you plant during the eighth year, you will eat from the old crop and will continue to eat from it until the harvest of the ninth year comes in.
23 “ ‘The land must not be sold permanently, because the land is mine and you are but aliens and my tenants. 24 Throughout the country that you hold as a possession, you must provide for the redemption of the land.
25 “ ‘If one of your countrymen becomes poor and sells some of his property, his nearest relative is to come and redeem what his countryman has sold. 26 If, however, a man has no one to redeem it for him but he himself prospers and acquires sufficient means to redeem it, 27 he is to determine the value for the years since he sold it and refund the balance to the man to whom he sold it; he can then go back to his own property. 28 But if he does not acquire the means to repay him, what he sold will remain in the possession of the buyer until the Year of Jubilee. It will be returned in the Jubilee, and he can then go back to his property.
29 “ ‘If a man sells a house in a walled city, he retains the right of redemption a full year after its sale. During that time he may redeem it. 30 If it is not redeemed before a full year has passed, the house in the walled city shall belong permanently to the buyer and his descendants. It is not to be returned in the Jubilee. 31 But houses in villages without walls around them are to be considered as open country. They can be redeemed, and they are to be returned in the Jubilee.
32 “ ‘The Levites always have the right to redeem their houses in the Levitical towns, which they possess. 33 So the property of the Levites is redeemable—that is, a house sold in any town they hold—and is to be returned in the Jubilee, because the houses in the towns of the Levites are their property among the Israelites. 34 But the pastureland belonging to their towns must not be sold; it is their permanent possession.
35 “ ‘If one of your countrymen becomes poor and is unable to support himself among you, help him as you would an alien or a temporary resident, so he can continue to live among you. 36 Do not take interest of any kind [fn1] from him, but fear your God, so that your countryman may continue to live among you. 37 You must not lend him money at interest or sell him food at a profit. 38 I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt to give you the land of Canaan and to be your God.
39 “ ‘If one of your countrymen becomes poor among you and sells himself to you, do not make him work as a slave. 40 He is to be treated as a hired worker or a temporary resident among you; he is to work for you until the Year of Jubilee. 41 Then he and his children are to be released, and he will go back to his own clan and to the property of his forefathers. 42 Because the Israelites are my servants, whom I brought out of Egypt, they must not be sold as slaves. 43 Do not rule over them ruthlessly, but fear your God.
44 “ ‘Your male and female slaves are to come from the nations around you; from them you may buy slaves. 45 You may also buy some of the temporary residents living among you and members of their clans born in your country, and they will become your property. 46 You can will them to your children as inherited property and can make them slaves for life, but you must not rule over your fellow Israelites ruthlessly.
47 “ ‘If an alien or a temporary resident among you becomes rich and one of your countrymen becomes poor and sells himself to the alien living among you or to a member of the alien’s clan, 48 he retains the right of redemption after he has sold himself. One of his relatives may redeem him: 49 An uncle or a cousin or any blood relative in his clan may redeem him. Or if he prospers, he may redeem himself. 50 He and his buyer are to count the time from the year he sold himself up to the Year of Jubilee. The price for his release is to be based on the rate paid to a hired man for that number of years. 51 If many years remain, he must pay for his redemption a larger share of the price paid for him. 52 If only a few years remain until the Year of Jubilee, he is to compute that and pay for his redemption accordingly. 53 He is to be treated as a man hired from year to year; you must see to it that his owner does not rule over him ruthlessly.
54 “ ‘Even if he is not redeemed in any of these ways, he and his children are to be released in the Year of Jubilee, 55 for the Israelites belong to me as servants. They are my servants, whom I brought out of Egypt. I am the Lord your God.

Alan Jacobs makes some potent claims in chp 7 of Original Sin, this one perhaps the most provocative, and I’m keen on whether you agree or not.

“It is, I think, fair to say that the continued existence of a strong doctrine of original sin depends upon the evangelical movement” (129) — and he means an Augustinian understanding of original sin.

One of the theses of this book is that the rise of a strong proponent of original sin is met by or sometimes overmatched by (in long term impact) an opponent of original sin. So, Pelagius and Augustine and in the 18th Century, George Whitefield and Jonathan Edwards and John Wesley with Jean Jacques Rousseau. This chp is worth the price of the book for one simple reason: our culture’s war over original sin finds its origins in many ways in these central figures.

Whitefield believed if you have never felt the weight of your original sin, and not just the guilt of your own sins, then you should not call yourself a Christian. Edwards is sketched in his modernistic proofs of original sin, but then Jacobs delves into Edwards’ theory of original sin was at work when God judged the pagans, including the harem warfare to destroy children and women. Here’s the quote that frames the chapter’s title: “As innocent as children seem to be to us, if they are out of Christ, they are not so in God’s sight, but are young vipers, and infinitely more hateful than vipers” (142). And Wesley’s theory of education was rooted in original sin: the goal of the parent was to break the will of the child so the child would learn to submit to authority, including God’s.

These major leaders were opposed by Rousseau, Emile. Rousseau’s famous book on education was rooted in his belief in the goodness of human nature, his disgust with Pascal’s belief in original sin, his belief that humans are born good but are corrupted by other humans, and his contention that the way to educate was to leave kids in nature. (Jacobs exploits the cracks in Rousseau’s theories and gives quite a powerful counter in the example of Josiah Wedgewood’s attempt to rear his son according to Rousseau’s model, which was at best a total failure.)

One thing I regret about our decades long life in Chicagoland is that we did not more often get up to Elmbrook Church to listen to Stuart Briscoe’s sermons, for surely he has been one of our generation’s most capable and exemplary preachers. But, I’m glad to recommend to you his new autobiography: Flowing Streams: Journeys of a Life Well Lived.

I’m wondering if there are some Briscoe listeners out there who would like to speak up for his impact in your life or some memorable events you recall from his ministry in Elmbrook Wisconsin.

The book struck me in a few ways:

Piety: Briscoe came from a pious family — Plymouth Brethren in fact — and he came to faith in a place he called The Tin Church in northern England. Throughout this book these pietistic streams continued to refresh his life. His early connections in leadership were with Capenwray in England, and this part of the story made me aware again of the impact of Christian institutions — and made me aware again of the many who have influenced the Church who did not go through the “standard” process.

Candor: Briscoe has always been a preacher who speaks his mind and who does not play the party line. One of my memories of his preaching was when he spoke about Jonah and said that all this talk about proving how long a human could last inside a whale was a waste of time. Instead of talking about Jonah’s whale, he said, we need to talk about Jonah’s God — and he did and the sermon was both worshipful and instructive.

Jill and the family: if we remember his candor, we will appreciate all the more how he speaks about his constant travels and the stress this put on his wife, Jill, a leader in the church as well. And the stress on his kids, one of whom was a student of mine at one time. And he doesn’t offer any kind of theories and formulas for resolving the tension for ministers who travel — he speaks of how they struggled and of the stress and of how over time they worked this out.

Evangelism: Briscoe was/is an evangelist. He tells numerous stories of speaking and of God’s Spirit at work and of folks coming to faith.

Bible: This book often weaves in texts and probably some sermonic memories, but they are not forced and they are not cheezy.

Natural: This book is Briscoe’s story, and in that story he opens up things he has learned and wisdom he has for young pastors today. It is not a didactic book that says “I’ve been there, listen up.” It’s more: “Here’s my story and this is what I have learned.”

Elmbrook: Often he mentions Elmbrook Church, but not at all too often. We meet Mel Lawrenz, the senior teaching pastor now (and whose book we have mentioned here), and others but Briscoe does not gain our attention by opening up private rooms and meetings.

This is a model example for pastors.

We have asked a few folks to respond to our recent book, Finding Faith, Losing Faith: Stories of Conversion and Apostasy. Today “RJS” responds to the chapter that is about apostasy and its reasons, and this chp comes from someone who knows the pain of the issues we sketch in this chp. [Some don’t even like the word “apostasy” — We use it in this chp more sociologically than theologically.]

Scot has asked me to respond to the first chapter of Finding Faith, Losing Faith exploring the conversion away from orthodox Christianity to deism, agnosticism, or atheism. This is a conversion trumpeted by so many as almost inevitable in our increasingly educated and secular society. The evangelical church is hemorrhaging on our University campuses and the years beyond. It is hard to pin down numbers and even harder to judge how many are walking away from a well reasoned and personal faith rather than simply failing to “convert” to the faith of their childhood. Yet it is clear that it can be difficult for many to grow or retain a deep and rational faith. I am interacting with this chapter not as one who has walked away, but as one who has wandered through many of the crises described and emerged with a somewhat chastened and tempered evangelicalism as the result. The patterns identified in this chapter are similar to those identified in many other sources and to those I would have suggested from personal experience.

The personal stories of loss of faith presented in this chapter make a key point crystal clear - a common feature of deconversion for many is the overarching role played by a search for intellectual coherence. Reason alone brings few if any into the faith - but reason alone drives many away despite significant social and personal cost. Those who walk away find not faith and fellowship but freedom and intellectual coherence. I cannot overemphasize this point. The intellectual questions and struggles are painfully real. In many of the cases - especially for those with clearly developed commitment to the faith before being swamped by doubt - the issue is not sin, rebellion and self. Occasionally a desire for moral, particularly sexual, freedom plays a significant role - but this is not a major driving factor in most cases. Changes in behavior often result from, rather than precipitate, a loss of faith.

The shame is that the church - rather than dealing with the problem at its core, rather than providing a forum for Christians to question and grow - has often responded in a reactionary and destructive fashion. It is easy (incredibly easy in fact) to find an advocate to lead one to reject the church and join the freedom of the secular world; it is hard, often well nigh impossible, to find an advocate to help one explore the hard questions of the faith.

McKnight and Ondrey identify five principal and several secondary factors contributing to the loss of faith for many former conservative evangelicals. But these factors can easily be organized into three major categories: Scripture, Theology, and Christians.

Scripture - an unsophisticated, unnuanced, and inflexible view of sola scriptura, inerrancy, and inspiration can lead to significant conflict. For many actually reading the bible, the Word of God, as a whole rather than in morsels and tidbits connected to devotionals or sermons precipitates a crisis and necessitates a choice – either faith requires the renunciation of intelligence or intellectual integrity requires the renunciation of faith. We must develop and articulate a realistic view of scripture and inspiration.

The difficulties found in scripture span a wide range, but nowhere is the conflict more intense than in relation to science, the age of the earth and the development of life. Once one begins to examine the scientific evidence honestly it is absolutely clear that the age of the universe, the age of the earth, the evolutionary development of life, and with the new genomic evidence, even the common descent of man are inferences based on incredibly strong foundations. The evidence is overwhelming. The scientific arguments defending a literal historical reading of the Biblical account are pitiful. Those few scientists who hold to a young earth or the reality of a global flood do so only from a conviction that the Bible requires it - not because the evidence for age or evolution is unconvincing.

Concordist approaches to scripture which “demonstrate” that the Bible, when interpreted properly, is consistent with some science, describing creation over ages, are often only slightly more reasonable. For many who are wracked with doubt the conflict is irresolvable – one must choose either intellectual integrity or faith. And it is the church drawing an unnecessary line in the sand with a doctrine of scripture unsupported by either internal evidence (coherence within scripture itself) or external evidence (coherence with archaeological and scientific discovery).

Theology - Hell and the Character of God. Put bluntly - to some the choice is clear: what kind of a God condemns infants or those unlucky enough to live in the wrong place and time to eternal torture and commands the annihilation of towns - men, women, and children at the hands of his chosen people? Not a God worth allegiance. If nuance is impossible the only acceptable answer may be apostasy. We must allow discussion and grappling with these questions. Theology is not simple or self-evident when these questions arise. What is the nature of God and is it reflected in our actions and our understanding of scripture?

Christians - the behavior of Christians, today and throughout history, can be appalling (think sexual abuse and fraud; war and persecution). If the Spirit changes the one who confesses to Jesus as Lord why does the evidence seem so sparse? A tough question…and for many the crisis precipitated is severe. This factor is fundamentally different from those above. It must be dealt with, but perhaps the most productive response is a renewed dedication to follow God and live as his community on earth with generous orthodoxy holding denominational distinctive with an open hand; with a commitment to the great commandment – to love God and to love others as ourselves; to if at all possible be at peace with all men. We are God’s community and God’s witness upon this earth.

But I think that there is a fourth factor that contributes to the crisis of faith experienced by many that is not clearly identified in the stories included in this chapter - perhaps because it is harder to grasp and articulate. We live in a culture where superstition and supernatural is routinely ridiculed and rationalized. Belief in a spiritual realm, belief in God, does not come naturally. Scientific naturalism is in fundamental conflict with a Christian world view, and we are immersed - whether we admit it or not - in an educated culture that lives and breathes naturalism. What spirituality western culture allows - a kind or moralistic therapeutic deism - is incompatible with the Christian view of God. Religion is debunked. It can be hard to buck the trend and stand in the tradition of orthodox Christianity. For many this cultural conflict, combined with the specific intellectual questions and concerns, leads to an almost inevitable slide toward apostasy. Faith can be hard.

To return to the science faith conflict (as I am, after all, a scientist), this is where the Intelligent Design controversy comes into the picture in the conflict between reason and faith. Intelligent Design does not solve the scripture problem – it attempts to solve the culture problem, the existence of God problem. Perhaps some grab onto this concept because it provides a rock, a fact, which allows an anchor for faith within our age of secular naturalism. We can know objectively that God exists after all. But … Intelligent Design as generally formulated is somewhat dangerous; it relies on gaps, many of which will close in relatively short order. Most serious scientists who hold to some variant of intelligent design or progressive creationism are willing to follow the evidence where it leads. Intelligent design or progressive creation is a theory not a dogma. And even here most of these scientists will admit to much of evolutionary theory, and many to common descent. To hang one’s hat on Intelligent Design to resolve the God problem is inherently flawed.

Well, I have struggled to keep this post short and to the point - and failed miserably. But perhaps this can spark something of a discussion – what are the factors that provide the greatest challenge to faith in our day and age?

One of the most unusual players in Major League Baseball was Rickey Henderson. Not the least of his uniquenesses was “Rickey-Speak.” He once framed a million dollar check because he thought it was cool. (The organization had to call him to tell him to cash it!) Here are a few samples of his oddities:

In 1996, Henderson’s first season with San Diego, he boarded the team bus and was looking for a seat. Steve Finley said, “You have tenure, sit wherever you want.” Henderson looked at Finley and said, “Ten years? Ricky’s been playing at least 16, 17 years.”

This one happened in Seattle. Rickey struck out and as the next batter was walking past him, he heard Henderson say, “Don’t worry, Rickey, you’re still the best.”

Rickey once asked a teammate how long it would take him to drive to the Dominican Republic.

How do good teachers conduct a class? This is the central question for chp 5 of Ken Bain’s What the Best College Teachers Do, a book I consider the best book I’ve ever read on education. He gives seven principles at work in the classrooms of the best teachers:

Think about two things with me today: What would a high school church education program look like with this as the kind of environment created? What would an adult Sunday School class look like? And think of the difference that the download-the-information from-expert-to-student model makes for each as well. This stuff excites me for the church. Do we have some takers?

First, good teachers create a natural critical learning environment. He develops this at length, but I’ll wait until we’ve sketched all seven before we get to that development.

Second, good teachers get the students’ attention and keep it.

Third, good teachers start with the students rather than the discipline.

Fourth, good teachers seek commitments from the students.

Fifth, good teachers help students learn outside of class.

Sixth, good teachers engage students in the discipline’s way of thinking.

Seventh, good teachers create diverse learning experiences.

Now back to a “natural critical learning environment.” I’m glad Bain expands on this one the most since I think this is also what churches need the most. As I list his five features of learning environment, think of what this might look like in a local church … and make some suggestions of what we might do to create learning environments:

1. Begin with an intriguing question or problem.
2. Provide guidance for the significance of the question. “Many teachers never raise questions; they simply give students answers” (101).
3. Engage students in higher-order intellectual activity: compare, apply, evaluate, analyze, synthesize … but only listen and remember.
4. Help students answer the question.
5. Leave the students with a question: What’s next?

Today I have asked John Frye to respond to the chp on why Catholics are moving to Evangelicalism, a movement of dramatic numbers in South America. As a pastor, John knows the substance of this chapter in Finding Faith, Losing Faith: Stories of Conversion and Apostasy firsthand. The research and the writing of this chp was done by Hauna Ondrey and I have asked her to pay attention to the post today and weigh in at some point.

In this chapter I was introduced briefly to John Cornwall, Jim Haider, Jim DiCenso, Dana Ames, “Tony,” “Angela,” Henry Gregory Adams, Frank and Alberta Taddeo, Linda Zollner and Mike Gidron and others. In reading their stories, I recalled Martin Luther’s famed “Tower Experience” when, he, too, wrestled with an oppressive, sad, and fearfully dissatisfying faith in God as expressed in the Roman Catholic Church. Luther, pondering Romans 1:17, came to the liberating and joy-bringing realities of salvation as a work of God alone. Many of the stories (some from ex-priests) in Chapter 3 have the feel of present-day, mini-Tower Experiences. As a Protestant pastor I felt good that Wheaton became home for these people. The authors call them RCEs: Roman Catholics becoming Evangelicals.

What amazed me was the reality of “Catholic guilt.” I had seen Catholic guilt caricatured in TV sitcoms and in movies, but the stress of it on the soul concerned me. My fundamentalist guilt was minor league guilt compared to these folks. The uncertainty and dread that many Catholics carry as they try to keep their categories of sins defined and confessed and try to faithfully honor their worship traditions produces a terrorized soul. It angered me. “Why,” I kept asking myself, “do they put up with all that?” That’s an easy, simplistic Protestant question for me to ask. As people in deeply held faiths, Catholics carry a long history of beliefs, a socialization process pressing for life-long fidelity, a sincere searching for God, and a longing to be at peace with God. What startled me is that these RCEs become hostile to their faith’s teachings/traditions and will risk excommunication from family and friends to find God. They are exuberant and rejoice deeply in the evangelical expressions of Christianity to the point of becoming ardent evangelists. They can become skilled in “anti-rhetoric,” demonizing the Catholic Church and its leaders and teachings. For them, the Roman Catholic Church was a grand rip-off. This saddens me, too, because I have greatly benefited from the writings of the early Church Fathers and Mothers (e.g., Teresa of Avila, Bernard of Clairvaux, Catherine of Siena, Francis of Assisi) and Henri J. M. Nouwen, Ronald Rolheiser, Richard Rohr, Brennan Manning, C.S. Lewis, and Flannery O’Conner.

I am, along with many others, equally concerned about our Protestant evangelical indefensible reduction of the Gospel of Jesus Christ to bullet-points and napkin diagrams. Yet, to my surprise (and I found myself eating a big piece of humble pie), reduced Gospel presentations are like cool water to these very thirsty RCE souls. If you perceive that you’re lost in an endless choking thicket of religious duties and someone shows you a small, simple clearing, you get there as fast as you can. The love of God, the sure forgiveness of sins through Jesus Christ, the Bible as a loving Book, the believing community as vibrant, day-to-day Jesus-followers—all these realities become a safe clearing for RCEs. “We don’t offer religion, we offer a relationship” to me is a cliché. To RCEs it is a total and transforming motto of the faith.

The greatest grief for me was this comment by Dana Ames, “I felt Jesus was far too holy to ever approach me…[Dana could approach Jesus by the Sacraments] “… but even so I didn’t believe Jesus would really want to be with me otherwise.” The very One who became flesh to be as close as possible to us as human beings is warped into someone just the opposite—an aloof, too holy Being who is alien to the Jesus we meet in the Gospels.

Dr. John W Frye
Fellowship Evangelical Covenant Church
1569 — 44th St.
Hudsonville, MI 49426

Conversion and conversions will be themes of this blog for the next couple of weeks. This series on Chrysalis is about Alan Jamieson’s book Chrysalis: The Hidden Transformation in the Journey of Faith. Today’s comes from Nancy.

“Chrysalis” was a very affirming read for me. I entered the text as a chrysalis myself, one tucked into a cocoon, waiting in the dark, undergoing some secret spiritual transformation. “Chrysalis” gave me hope and increased peace about this process. I had suspected I was undergoing some developmental transition but also wondered about other potential explanations. The use of the process of metamorphosis as an analogy for spiritual development initially seemed a bit trite and yet it really does provide a beautiful and relevant concept for the process. As with any “stage theory”, I have some trouble with the idea that the journey is a linear one and like Jamieson, I suspect that some of us will find ourselves in cocoon times more than once. For many, the path will be more spiral where we circle around and around but never quite land on the same spot.

I very much related to Jamieson’s description of the process, specifically, the need to detach from my old faith community and to honor my sense of mistrust in and near-aversion to all the old activities I used to put so much energy into. I was recently asked what I have learned from this cocoon phase and I think Jamieson described it best: “to sense, listen to, and strengthen (my) own inner identity, truth, wisdom and contribution”. I have also learned humility. I unwisely and arrogantly imagined that my spiritual practices and the fruit they had born would provide some immunity from the uncertainty and near total destruction of a dark night of the soul. While it has been deeply unsettling, I love Jamieson’s description of this process as an “invitation” to go deeper. It is painful, a time of sorrow, fear and anger. Yet it is also a time of hope, creativity and new freedom.

Jamieson normalized and supported the same drive I intuitively experienced to locate and attach to a group engaged in honest questioning and who would provide respectful support, not criticism or judgment. Blogs like JC offer easy access to such safety and support. I found Jamieson’s discussion of spiritual direction spot on as well. I understood this was a need and did locate a spiritual director who seemed to grasp what was happening to me but not how to assist me through it. It was very frustrating. In retrospect, it was her repeated directives to engage in the contemplative practices that I had been doing for years but suddenly felt totally unable to perform that caused me distress and a sense of failure. As Jamieson suggests, it is imperative to find a spiritual director who understands the process and recognizes the unique needs of the individual who is in this “cocoon phase”. For me, I needed to stop struggling against the dark night, trying to push myself through and just surrender to whatever God was doing in me.

“Chrysalis” seems a useful guide for people who are apparently transitioning from one “stage” of spiritual development to another and to those who hope to guide them in the process.

Recently I was asked where theology was headed. I assured my reader that I wasn’t “in the know” but that I would hazard a guess or two. First I thought we were likely to see a more robust Trinitarian theology, one deeply anchored in the great Cappadocian theologians like Gregory of Nyssa. But in some ways all the main lines of Trinitarian thought have already been sketched by great theologians like Karl Barth, James B. Torrance and others. With this first idea now set aside, I had a second idea of where theology is going: “The Wright Brothers.”

[I have a monthly column for Out of Ur Blog and this was posted there last week.]

Question: If you had to name one or two authors or themes that will be at the forefront of the future of theology, what would you choose?

No, not those Wright Brothers, but another set of Wrights (who aren’t even brothers, except in Christ): Tom and Chris. Even if they don’t map where all of theology is headed, these two scholars and devoted churchmen, both Anglican, do set before us two words that have become increasingly fruitful and I think will be the subject of serious theological reflection in the future. The two words are “earth” and “mission.” Each scholar discusses both, but I will focus in this post on Tom Wright’s focus on “earth” and Chris Wright’s focus on “mission.”

Increasingly we are seeing more and more Christians own up to the earthly focus of biblical revelation—the claim God makes upon this earth through his Eikons (humans made in his image). We are seeing a deeper reflection on what it means to participate in the historical flow, in government and politics and society and culture, and we are seeing a renewed interest in vocation and work. One of the more striking elements of this new surge is that theologians who are deeply anchored in the Bible also see our eternal destiny having an earthly shape.

And not only are we seeing the increasing presence of “earthly,” but we are seeing a reshaping of theology itself so that God’s mission in this world becomes central. Everyone knows that the latest buzz word is missional but not enough are thinking carefully about what mission means in the Bible and what it means to speak about “God’s mission” (missio Dei). But there is a surge of thinking now about this topic and it will continue to spark interest both for pastors and professional theologians.

Now to the Wright brothers.

Tom Wright, in his book Surprised by Hope, relentlessly critiques the gnostic-like preoccupation so many have with heaven as a place for our spirits and souls—the place where we really belong, and the sooner we get there the better. It is not that Tom Wright denies heaven; no, he affirms it robustly but he argues that the eternal home for the Christian is not that old-fashioned view of heaven but the new heavens and the new earth. And he argues the new heavens and new earth are something brought down from heaven to earth. (Read Revelation 20—22.)

I think some have made far too much of this, as if it is a revolutionary insight. What it is, in my judgment, is a strong critique of how dualistic we’ve become. And it is a welcome call for us to see that what we do now prepares us for what we will do in the new heavens and the new earth. I think Tom Wright’s emphasis here is spot-on: we need to grapple more directly with the connection of what God calls us to do now as continuous with what we shall be called to do for eternity. I hope many will see their way to read Tolkien’s Leaf by Niggle, for it addresses similar themes.

This emphasis of Tom Wright’s actually forms a foundation for Chris Wright’s exceptional study The Mission of God. Here we find yet another theme that is reshaping so much of where theology is going: mission. I wish people asked this one simple question: What is the mission of God in this world? Chris Wright, taking his cues from the Old Testament—he’s an Old Testament scholar—says the mission of God is to make his glorious Name known throughout the whole world. This mission, found so often in the prophets, shapes how we not only read the Bible but how we live out the Bible in our world.

God makes his Name known through God’s people, first Israel and then the Church. Most centrally, God’s mission with a Name becomes fully visible in Jesus Christ—in his life, death, resurrection, and the gift of the Spirit. This Story, this grand narrative of God’s mission, is reshaping how theology is being done.

There is a converging hook here: Chris Wright ends his book on the theme of God’s mission involving the earth—the whole earth. Tom Wright ends his book about earth on mission—the mission of God in this world. I think they are both right.

I can’t see into the future, but I can see down the road a bit, and what I see is an increasing emphasis on earth and mission. Those two themes are likely to take us into the next two decades.

In this series on our book, Finding Faith, Losing Faith, we have a chp on why Evangelicals become Catholics. Michael Spencer (iMonk) wrote one response. I also asked Art Boulet, who blogs at his excellent blog, and he has this response. Art is a young theologian; sharp as a tack; and I appreciate his commitment and his insights. I cannot pass up this comment: with young leaders like this, I am encouraged.

The fourth chapter of Finding Faith, Losing Faith focuses on the conversion of Evangelicals to Catholicism. The major focus of the chapter is on the crisis that serves as the catalyst of a spiritual journey from evangelicalism to Roman Catholicism. This crisis is described as a “desire for transcendence” and is defined as “a crisis about the limitations of the human condition and a desire to go beyond the ordinary human experience” (201). There are four manifestations that the desire for transcendence takes (201-02):
1) The desire to transcend the human limits of knowledge to find certainty
2) The desire to transcend the human limits of temporality to find connection to the entire history of the church
3) The desire to transcend the human limits of division among churches to find unity and universality
4) The desire to transcend the human limits of interpretive diversity to find interpretive authority

As an evangelical who is very aware of the shortcomings of evangelicalism, each of these manifestations of the desire for transcendence resonate with me.
—There are questions revolving around how I might know, for certain, the theology that I hold to is, in fact, the truth. How can I be sure that my theology is not simply my opinion or what I feel comfortable believing?
—There is the desire within me to be connected to the history of the church and not only with Augustine and a few other early church fathers that my theological persuasion deems acceptable. Why do we participate in a “buffet style” reading of the early Church fathers, only picking and choosing what seems right for us or what can serve our own ends?
—There are questions concerning the constant splintering of churches and denominations in the evangelical world. Is this really what Christ had in mind when he prayed in the Garden (John 17)?
—There are questions about the many different theological paradigms that find their home under the umbrella of evangelicalism. How do I navigate the rough theological waters of evangelicalism to arrive at the truth?

These are valid questions that people are asking and evangelicalism, like the author points out, needs to “get a firmer grip on authority, unity, history, liturgy, and a reasonable form of certainty on interpretation” (226). This chapter, much like the recent book UnChristian, points out some weak areas within evangelicalism that need to be strengthened.

With that said, I do not think that to ask these questions is to begin a spiritual journey that will inevitably lead to that “seven-hilled city.” Many find themselves crossing the Tiber after asking these questions because, quite frankly, they are getting better answers from Catholics then from evangelicals. But that does not need to be the case and, in some areas, evangelicals are waking up.

For instance, there has been a recent move within evangelicalism to reconnect with the ancient Church. From commentaries that focus only on the interpretation of the early Church fathers, to books documenting the spiritual disciplines of the early Church and how they can be used in today’s context, to a recent (and excellent) series of books entitled “Evangelical Ressourcement: Ancient Sources for the Church’s Future.” These examples are steps in the right direction, one that serves to reconnect evangelicalism with the history of the church. Hopefully evangelicals will produce literature that focuses on the other manifestations of the desire for transcendence in the near future.

It is important to point out that I, like the author of the chapter, do not believe that someone who has taken the spiritual journey from evangelicalism to Catholicism has lost their faith, even though that journey will take us farther away from theological agreement. But I do think that taking that journey from evangelicalism to Rome is an invalid answer to very valid questions. It is on us, as evangelicals, to works towards a more robust understanding of what it means to follow Christ and to articulate that in such a way that people who begin the crisis of the “desire for transcendence” can be comforted, informed, and strengthened by the answers she or he receives from evangelicals.

Peter Kreeft is a philosophy professor in Boston, which leads me to the unevidenced assumption that he’s a Boston Red Sox fan. Whether he is or not, though, this statement about the perichoretic relationship of humans with God is profound. What do you think?

“The self is like a baseball. Throw it back to the divine pitcher who pitched it to you in the first place, and the game of love goes on. Hold it, and the game is over. That is the difference between Heaven and Hell” (69).

I got behind in my posts last week and we’ve got a wonderful week ahead of us — so much so that I’d like to put each post at the top of each day! Well, last week’s busy-ness meant I didn’t get Alan Jacobs’ Original Sin online, so here it is. The chp swipes a line from The Vision of Tondal where the angel points to some in purgatory with these words: “These are the wicked, but not very.” Which words provide a line of thinking that goes out for a stroll in this chp: namely, yes, we are all sinners but some are not as bad as others.

Original sin is often involved in major church and cultural battles. Do you see an original sin battle at work today? Where?

And Jacobs jaunts from group to group: we start with two groups of Jewish theologians — those who believed in a strong sense of original sin, like R. Morteira, and those who thought all Israel would be saved, like Aboab the Kabbalist. Aboab developed a Jewish form of reincarnation (gilgul neshamot) so that the disobedient could come back and learn Torah faithfulness.

Dutch Calvinism was Augustinian, but this was only a development of the Reformers who each believed in original sin as the fundamental problem to be addressed by the gospel. Erasmus, though, in In Praise of Folly, thought the debate about how sin was transmitted absurd.

And this leads to an exceptional sketch of the rise of Janensism in France, a theological movement that was robustly Augustinian and that fought (and lost) its battles with the ruling Jesuits. Power has a way of winning. And tied into Janenism was Blaise Pascal and his famous Pensees, one of the most enduring theological reflections of all time.

Jacobs: “So, in the view of the Parisian Jesuits, original sin impedes us little or not at all in our quest for righteousness, in part because the righteousness we seek is such small beer” (115). For Pascal, fire and holiness and fear of God go to the very heart of the gospel. Jacobs summarizes Pascal: “Those who, like his Jesuit enemies, compromise the holiness of God and elevate the stature of fallen humanity do not know — and therefore prevent others from knowing — the miracle of divine grace” (116). Thus, for Pascal to know grace one must feel the weight of one’s sin.

And this leads to John Bunyan in his battles with Quaker (Nayler) and latitudinarian Anglican contemporaries (Fowler): those who defend the Augustinian view of original sin, so Jacobs argues, are in for a battle.

Conversion and conversions will be themes of this blog for the next couple of weeks. This series on Chrysalis is about Alan Jamieson’s book Chrysalis: The Hidden Transformation in the Journey of Faith. Today’s comes from Mark Farmer.

The final chapter of Alan Jamieson’s Chrysalis, entitled “Butterfly House - beautifully hopeful,” describes a congregation which has renounced its vested interest in keeping its members stuck in the first stage of faith development. “Butterfly houses care for every stage of the life cycle. The people who run the butterfly houses understand each phase of the butterfly life-cycle and with this knowledge they carefully nurture each stage, seeking to provide the food sources and contexts each stage needs.” (108)

The vision is attractive, even compelling.

But how can I as a pastor preach to, teach, and lead people of all three stages at once? Not by trying to force those in the earlier stages to progress more quickly than they are ready to. Wisdom doesn’t need to push people, but values them for who they are today. Tomorrow will come.

One key is to help my hearers seek to know God and people and the Bible more and more as they really are, with a willingness to set aside received ideas of them when necessary. This intent can unite the three stages in a common quest.

“Brothers and sisters, do not be children in your thinking; rather, be infants in evil, but in thinking be adults” (I Cor. 14:20; also 13:11). Paul intends for Christians to move beyond the pre-critical stage. How does Paul teach Christians to think like adults? How does he model it? By bringing out the breadth and complexity of the biblical narrative instead of leaving his readers with an inaccurately simplistic understanding. Romans 2 on circumcision and Romans 9 on the people of God in relation to biological Israel are good examples. Jesus, too, used Scripture to challenge people to think and to question their received interpretations of Scripture. Scripture itself challenges erroneously simplistic interpretations that are made of it.

Paul’s discussion of the “strong” and the “weak” in I Corinthians 8-10 and Romans 14 provides a pastoral model for ministering to the various stages. The “strong” (stage 3) are to be careful not to despise the “weak” (1 & 2) or cause them to stumble. And the “weak” must gently be led to (desire to) grow.

It helps to consider “what I was taught” (by parents and teachers and authors and mentors) when I was a young Christian as a starting point from which to grow and learn from God himself and from many other teachers. And to consider what I teach to others as a starting point for them. Attitudes of obedient devotion to Christ, curiosity, and teachability, coupled with tools for loving God with all our minds, such as inductive reasoning, critical analysis, imagination and discernment, and values such as getting to know God and people for what they really are, help all three stages grow into what they were made to become.

I’m off to visit our local butterfly house (of the entomological sort)!

Democrat Presidential candidate, Barack Obama, announced Saturday that he was choosing Senator Joseph Biden as his VP. What do you think? The first response that came to my mind was this: The race just got even closer.

Grant, O merciful God, that your Church, being gathered together in unity by your Holy Spirit, may show forth your power among all peoples, to the glory of your Name; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Here’s a true Cub fan:

Chicago abuzz with an idea from James Meeks.

Tom Smith, in South Africa, reflecting on church transformation. LL Barkat reflects on “finding” a poem. Ed Gilbreath has a good post on race as a theological problem. OK, I think David’s got a burr under his saddle on this anti-attractional stuff, but I have to say that Fitch always has something to say. Will we know?, Erika asks. Michael Kruse puts the spin on the “prosperity gospel” …. read it. JR Briggs on xenophobia and Jesus. And Pastor Jim Martin graces us with some reflections on expectations.

iMonk is one of the best bloggers around: check this post out.

Pastoral wisdom on the implications of blogging.

1. Wind turbines: the downside.
2. EJ Dionne on evangelical poliltics.
3. Spiritual drift?
4. Your most influential teacher?
5. Is anyone using “Cuil” as the search engine?
6. Who needs to know?
7. This is where politics has gotten messy the last 20 years or so. It just isn’t according to script on economics and party.
8. Indeed.
9. This one is worth a good discussion over lunch.

Sports:

One word: Olympics!

No, two words: Olympics and “How ’bout dem Cubs!”

There are two feisty parties in the church today. Let’s call them “spiritualizers” and “activists.” Chris Wright, in the second half of chp 8 (The Mission of God) says each emphasizes biblical truth but omits what the other emphasizes. He calls for an integrated approach: Wright’s “right.”

His thesis: “an exodus-shaped redemption demands an exodus-shaped mission” (275).

(I have called this concern a “robust gospel.” What does a “robust mission” look like if we believe in a robust gospel?”

1. Spiritualizers: In the exodus God delivered Israel from slavery in Egypt; in the cross of Christ God delivered us from the slavery to sin. Wright shows that this view is true, but omits too much.

a. The sin of the Exodus, which is used as a parallel, was not Israel’s sin but Egypt’s oppression. One needs Isa 40-55 to get there. The analogy to Exodus would lead to the cross as liberator and victor over injustice.
b. The NT does not eliminate the OT vision but expands it and christologizes it. The NT does not exchange social vision for spiritual vision.
c. This view has a subtle Marcionite view of God: the OT God had concerns that, somehow, just shifted between Malachi and Matthew!

2. Activists (he calls them “politicizers”): God’s paradigm is undoing social injustice. Every act of throw off oppression is redemption.

a. First, the old view that Israel’s elective status changes things is not fair.
b. Second, the goal of liberation in Exodus was worship of God.
c. Third, the exile continues the Exodus story to show that sin, Israel’s sin, is in view and in need of forgiveness. Not just restoration to Jerusalem but also to God.

3. So he calls for an Integral interpretation

Both: a real exodus-shaped redemption leads to a real exodus-shaped mission.

Social action needs evangelism; evangelism needs social action.

Conversion and conversions will be themes of this blog for the next couple of weeks. This series on Chrysalis is about Alan Jamieson’s book Chrysalis: The Hidden Transformation in the Journey of Faith. Today’s comes from Andrew.

Alan Jamieson’s Chrysalis
The Hidden Transformation in the Journey of Faith

Grateful to Scott McKnight for an opportunity to share thoughts about Jamieson’s Chrysalis, I’m one, now seventy years old, who has experienced a good bit of transformation in the journey. I have for years appreciated James Fowler’s Stages of Faith, built upon the contributions of thoughtful developmental psychologists such as Piaget, Erickson, and Kohlberg. Thinking that perhaps I could understand the turnings of my life somewhat more perceptively, I read Chrysalis with considerable interest.

In the end, however, I found it disappointing. For all its allusions and descriptions of “the dark night of the soul,” Jamieson’s rehearsal of the “cacooning” stage is far too domesticated for those of us whose faith journey was seriously interrupted so as to be profoundly exilic, a devastating wilderness trek, radically separated from anything resembling the Church’s life. Without getting unwisely too confessional here (although I now highly prize the Sacrament of Confession and Absolution; see The Augsburg Confession, Article XXV), Jamieson’s use of the pupal stage of a butterfly as a supposedly apt metaphor to describe “a period of hyper-critical faith” (96) hardly describes the harsh realities that many Christians experience in their transformation from pre- to post-critical faith. To be swaddled, wrapped, and enveloped in the hard-shelled pupa of a butterfly (no matter how life-changing the hibernation) is simply too insipid a metaphor for an often protracted and public middle stage migration many Christians experience.

My own experience and that of several other Christians whom I know requires that whatever happened between pre- and post- was certainly not pupal in nature. Yes, at times Jamieson comes close to what can only be described as an absolute middle-stage rejection of all things Christian, but he never quite gets there. For example, he says that “it is journey from an effortful faith to a doubtful faith and on to a restful and thoughtful faith” (97, Jamieson’s italics). My middle stage was not “doubtful”; it was no faith. Everything went, it was kaput, gone, absent. And by the way more than one of my friends describes his and her experiences, they too say that they were completely out of the loop.

A few lines of Henry Vaughn’s “The Retreate” from Silex Scintellans come to mind. In “The Retreate” Vaughn describes his “first” life; it was a time

Before I taught my tongue to wound
My conscience with a sinfull sound,
Or had the black art to dispence
A sev’rall sinne to ev’ry sence.

Within the middle stage that I and others experienced, we too defied conscience and (to say things as delicately as possible) learned a good many of the black (well, at least very dark “grey”) arts that made appeal to “ev’ry sence.” For such missteps and wanderings, the aptness the Bible’s description of Israel’s exilic sinning surely seems more accurate than some quiet (at least by connotation) pupal life. In some instances we were “deported”—and deported ourselves–from the Church and became expatriates.

Although the stories of our returnings are varied, the one constant is that God managed to intervene so strongly that after a while we had no other option than to come home, albeit in bodies that harbor spirits fundamentally different from early moorings. For me that homecoming arose from a son’s death, an introduction to the desert fathers and mothers by a Cistercian abbot, a wife’s and children’s forgiveness, the gift of an adopted child, and the renewed friendship of two seminary buddies, one of whom walked in my shoes.

All of this is not to say that Chrysalis will not be helpful to many whose journeys, like that of Phillip Yancey have been from pre-critical to post-critical faith—yet inward and hidden. Others, however, may perhaps find it helpful to envision themselves like seeds that fell on hard ground and were gobbled up by a bird. In that bird’s gizzard they stewed around for a good while until that raucous bird shat the seeds out, and they dropped on good fertile soil. In the end they discovered that the Sower, that Crazy Farmer, was quite aware that some of his seeds would now and then return to earth to be nourished by the warm, odorous manure of the Church. They have since grown up, to switch parables, to be old fig trees, whose fruit is ready for plucking, ready for the making of fig preserves. Some of my preserves are now being shelved at www.prayingdaily.blogspot.com and www.peacefulchristians.blogspot.com.

Andy Harnack