In yesterday's post I began to talk about the notion that religious instruction is akin to brainwashing. I began by pointing out that we all see the world based on what we've been told and taught, and by what we have observed. I then linked to an article which is provocatively titled, "I Want My Kids Brainwashed." The author recounts accusations she has had from unbelievers that she is brainwashing her children by putting them through religious instruction. But, as she concludes, it is a good thing that her children a "brainwashed" (a better term would perhaps be "indoctrinated") with the Christian faith, considering all of the other philosophies out there by which to be brainwashed.
This is an important point when it comes to how we see the world and evaluate truth claims: each of us starts with a context - a set of lenses, if you will - and through these lenses we interpret the reality around us. There is no one on the earth who does not have his or her own set of lenses. As I said yesterday, we are all "brainwashed" with some sort of framework through which we see the world.
This reality tends to render the accusation that Christians brainwash people as null and void, because even leveling the accusation "Christianity is brainwashing" is, in itself, the result of some sort of contextual brainwashing - particularly the secular kind that believes religion to be brainwashing. In other words, one cannot make the claim "You have been brainwashed" without having been brainwashed himself or herself. This is what I was trying to explain in yesterday's post: we cannot examine the process of having been influenced, without being influenced.
So then, if we are all "brainwashed" to see the world and evaluate truth claims in a certain way, then how can we ever know the truth? I would argue that such a standard exists in the word of God.
"But," you say, "you've admitted that your analysis of truth claims is inherently biased based on the ways you've been influenced as a child and adult! How can you be objective when evaluating the truth claims of the Bible?"
I can't. The best I can do is to know my own biases and presuppositions as well as I can, and to eliminate them as much as possible when I analyze evidence and make conclusions. I will always have my specific set of lenses that I will look through when I see and observe the world, truth claims, etc. But the more I know I have those lenses on, the better I can realize when they might be leading me to believe something "just because that's what I've always believed."
Also, through this imperfect process we look for a source of truth upon which to build our lives that is transcendent, trans-cultural, and timeless. I would argue that the Bible is that source of truth, and blows all other philosophies or worldviews out of the water. Even our biased interpretations of the Bible are better versions of "brainwashing" than the world has to offer, such as those mentioned in the article linked to above.
In conclusion, I would agree with the article to which I've linked that brainwashing is indeed a good thing. In fact, you can't even be alive without having been brainwashed to some extent. The question is not, "Should we brainwash our children?" but rather, "With what philosophy should we brainwash our children?" There's no escaping it.
That being said, I would obviously reject the notion that we should not engage our brains and critical thinking skills when evaluating truth claims. We should not believe things just because we've been told them over and over, or just because that's what we've always done or believed. That would be brainwashing, and that's not profitable for anyone.
Showing posts with label Spiritual Formation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Spiritual Formation. Show all posts
Saturday, April 12, 2014
Friday, April 11, 2014
Differentiation of Self
It's somewhat common to hear those critical of organized religion level the accusation of brainwashing toward those who practice a faith - particularly Christianity - and particularly when it comes to educating children in the basic tenets of the faith. In other words, there are some who feel that teaching and propagating the Christian faith is akin to brainwashing - people only believing what they believe because they've been told to believe it often enough that it just becomes a part of their reality, disassociated from any critical or reasonable thought.
One of the main ideas imparted to me during my seminary education was that of differentiation of self: the idea that in order to better understand reality and other people, one must be able to step outside of one's self and see how one has been formed and influenced by culture, family, relationships, religion, etc. Why is this important? Because there are many things that you and I believe to be right and true, not necessarily because those things are right and true, but simply because that's what we've been taught or have observed our entire lives, and we've never questioned those beliefs. In other words, we've been brainwashed in some areas of our lives and understanding, albeit unintentionally and without any kind of malicious intent. It's just a natural product of being linear, cultural beings. We repeatedly observe the world in a particular way, and we make conclusions about reality based on those observations, and moreover, we assume that our observations and subsequent conclusions are normative, or that they are prescriptive for all people in the world. In a very real sense, we are all brainwashed. And the teaching of self-differentiation states that the more we can identify this unintentional brainwashing, the more sensitivity and tolerance we will have toward those who have observed the world in different ways (because of cultural influences) and have come to different conclusions about reality (worldview).
This concept was the foundation of spiritual formation philosophy at Bethel Seminary. The more we know ourselves in truth and why we think/believe the ways we do, the more we can grow in our knowledge of truth, understand why others envision God in the ways they do, and engage in dialogue with them through which we can all grow spiritually. I believe there are several good elements of this philosophy, but there are also at least two very significant problems.
The obvious problem with this practice is the propensity for truth claims to be seen as a simple byproduct of cultural persuasion: in other words, you only believe Idea X to be true because it is a product of your culturally/religiously influenced observation of the world. In this sense, no one can be absolutely sure of any truth claim, because our understanding of truth is suspect due to our heavily influenced way of seeing the world. Nor can we condemn any ideas as being absolutely false, since our reasons for doing so can always be called into question, due to our unseen, yet formative, persuasions. This is one of the basic tenets of postmodernism.
A secondary problem with this practice is that it seems to me to be self-refuting. Differentiation of self intends for us to do our thinking about life, relationships, truth, and the world with as good a grasp as possible on the propensity for our influences to color our thinking and interpretation of truth claims. But the problem I see is that the process of self-differentiation is, itself, subject to those same influences. In other words, if my influences color the way I see and believe truth, then those same influences change my ability to discern those influences. Yes, I realize it's a bit of a mind bender, and it's also something of an infinite regression. Put simply, it's akin to the reality that the claim "There is no absolute truth," is a statement of absolute truth. The two cannot both be right. In the same way, we can't discern our influences without have that process be influenced by external factors.
So then, we can conclude that everyone examines truth within a social, cultural, societal, religious, ethnic, etc. context, and these factors shape the way we think about truth claims and determine what is true. In a sense, these influences "brainwash" us into seeing the world in a particular way. But is that a good thing or a bad thing? And what about the claim of critics of Christianity that Christians are brainwashed, and that they brainwash their children? Are they right?
I'll try to tackle these questions in a subsequent post. I've been thinking about these issues because of some stuff that has come up in my personal life recently, and also because of this article that was just published today on the Gospel Coalition website. It makes some great points on some of what I've said here, but I want to comment more on it at a later time.
One of the main ideas imparted to me during my seminary education was that of differentiation of self: the idea that in order to better understand reality and other people, one must be able to step outside of one's self and see how one has been formed and influenced by culture, family, relationships, religion, etc. Why is this important? Because there are many things that you and I believe to be right and true, not necessarily because those things are right and true, but simply because that's what we've been taught or have observed our entire lives, and we've never questioned those beliefs. In other words, we've been brainwashed in some areas of our lives and understanding, albeit unintentionally and without any kind of malicious intent. It's just a natural product of being linear, cultural beings. We repeatedly observe the world in a particular way, and we make conclusions about reality based on those observations, and moreover, we assume that our observations and subsequent conclusions are normative, or that they are prescriptive for all people in the world. In a very real sense, we are all brainwashed. And the teaching of self-differentiation states that the more we can identify this unintentional brainwashing, the more sensitivity and tolerance we will have toward those who have observed the world in different ways (because of cultural influences) and have come to different conclusions about reality (worldview).
This concept was the foundation of spiritual formation philosophy at Bethel Seminary. The more we know ourselves in truth and why we think/believe the ways we do, the more we can grow in our knowledge of truth, understand why others envision God in the ways they do, and engage in dialogue with them through which we can all grow spiritually. I believe there are several good elements of this philosophy, but there are also at least two very significant problems.
The obvious problem with this practice is the propensity for truth claims to be seen as a simple byproduct of cultural persuasion: in other words, you only believe Idea X to be true because it is a product of your culturally/religiously influenced observation of the world. In this sense, no one can be absolutely sure of any truth claim, because our understanding of truth is suspect due to our heavily influenced way of seeing the world. Nor can we condemn any ideas as being absolutely false, since our reasons for doing so can always be called into question, due to our unseen, yet formative, persuasions. This is one of the basic tenets of postmodernism.
A secondary problem with this practice is that it seems to me to be self-refuting. Differentiation of self intends for us to do our thinking about life, relationships, truth, and the world with as good a grasp as possible on the propensity for our influences to color our thinking and interpretation of truth claims. But the problem I see is that the process of self-differentiation is, itself, subject to those same influences. In other words, if my influences color the way I see and believe truth, then those same influences change my ability to discern those influences. Yes, I realize it's a bit of a mind bender, and it's also something of an infinite regression. Put simply, it's akin to the reality that the claim "There is no absolute truth," is a statement of absolute truth. The two cannot both be right. In the same way, we can't discern our influences without have that process be influenced by external factors.
So then, we can conclude that everyone examines truth within a social, cultural, societal, religious, ethnic, etc. context, and these factors shape the way we think about truth claims and determine what is true. In a sense, these influences "brainwash" us into seeing the world in a particular way. But is that a good thing or a bad thing? And what about the claim of critics of Christianity that Christians are brainwashed, and that they brainwash their children? Are they right?
I'll try to tackle these questions in a subsequent post. I've been thinking about these issues because of some stuff that has come up in my personal life recently, and also because of this article that was just published today on the Gospel Coalition website. It makes some great points on some of what I've said here, but I want to comment more on it at a later time.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Time for a Feast
During my second to last quarter in seminary, one of my favorite professors had us watch an Israeli movie entitled Ushpizin. This film details the story of a traditional Jewish couple and the trials and challenges they face as they attempt to celebrate the Feast of Booths. In reflecting on the film, the professor wanted us students to focus on the role that ritual plays in our lives. As I reflected on it, I was glad for the small yet significant role that tradition and ritual played in my own life, as I can see quite a bit of value in it, even in regards to training and teaching my children the things of God. At the same time, however, I was somewhat dismayed that I could only identify a couple of rituals and traditions that my family holds to here and there. In other words, we're not very ritualistic people (at least not religiously). As I saw the value of ritual and tradition, I wanted more of it in my life.
There's a lot of value in ritual. It can help or even force us to think about certain things. Sometimes this is good, but sometimes it can be bad. Consider the use of formal liturgies in worship. Liturgy is good in that it directs our thinking and worship. But it can also be dangerous in that it can be rote, and performed without any thinking or engagement in the heart. As a Baptist, the "default switch" of our denomination is to shun most forms of liturgy or even ritual. Again, I think this has positive and negative aspects. But as a Baptist who has, for the most part, been starved of ritual for most of his life, I am intrigued by the prospect of having ritual observances play a more prominent role in my spiritual development, and in the development of my family.
That was then, and this is now, and as I listened to the presentation tonight, delineating the feasts of Israel, I felt a renewed desire to engage in more ritualistic observances. What would it look like, I wondered, if the feasts of Israel were celebrated in a Christ-centered manner? In other words, could a Christian celebrate the feasts, but instead of looking forward to Messiah, look backward and celebrate his finished work? I talked to Roy briefly at the end of the presentation and asked him if such a thing was common among Jewish believers. He said that yes, indeed it was. Moreover, he affirmed my thought that celebrating the feasts was a very real and memorable way to extol the work of God in the hearts and minds of children.
All this has got me toying with a seemingly strange idea (at least it's strange to me): I want to try to celebrate the feasts of Leviticus 23. I might have to wait a while, though, as the "feast season" (as I understand it) begins in the spring, and I don't have enough time to prepare for it this year. I'd like to do the feasts in order, so I might have to wait until 2014 to begin.
Crazy? Maybe. We'll see what happens.
Friday, November 30, 2012
The Blessing of a Burglary
A couple weeks ago The Mrs. and I both had busy days. It was a Saturday, and we were both running here and there, doing errands, taking the kids places, grocery shopping, going to church, and so on and so forth. By the time we were both home, we had both parked our cars outside the garage, assuming that there would be more errands to run later in the day. As it turned out, neither of us ended up going anywhere for the rest of the day, and neither of us remembered that our cars were parked outside. We almost always park our cars in the garage, and very seldom leave them outside overnight. We figure we have a garage so we might as well use it.
The following morning, which was a Sunday, I sped off to church at about 7:30 AM. The Mrs. came later with the young'ns. As I met her at church, she said she was "having issues." What were the issues? It turns out that, sometime during the previous night, someone had jimmied her car door open and went through some stuff. They ended up taking a purse-like bag that was on the seat (which, oddly enough, was filled with her Children's Church materials). But other than that, nothing else appeared to be missing. We counted our blessings and went on with the day, contacting the police that afternoon just to let them know of the break-in.
At lunch that afternoon, The Mrs. asked me to purchase some 1X8 boards for a craft project she had for her kids at school. She asked me to cut the boards into one foot sections, which I said was no problem. After lunch, I went to the lumber yard, secured the wood, and took it home. A quick change of clothes after arriving at home found me out in the garage with the wood set up on my sawhorses. I went to the shelf that held my circular saw, but noticed something strange: it wasn't there. Neither was my jig saw. Neither was the case for my cordless drill. I spun around and looked throughout the rest of the garage. Huh. My table-top bandsaw was also missing from its perch. A quick perusal of the rest of the garage revealed that there was other stuff missing too - a lot of stuff. In addition to the missing power tools, two of my toolboxes were gone, one containing miscellaneous hand tools, the other containing all of my socket wrenches and sockets, which are probably my most commonly used tools. Needless to say, the thieves walked away with quite a haul. Over $500.00 in tools.
After doing all the necessary work with police, and finding out that my homeowner's insurance deductible was more than $1500.00, the words of Matthew Henry came to mind: "Let me be thankful, first, because he never robbed me before; second, because although he took my purse, he did not take my life; third, because although he took what I possessed, it was not much; and fourth, because it was I who was robbed, not I who robbed."
I've used this quote before in some of my sermons. Now I got to live it out.
As I pondered Henry's words, I began to realize how much of a non-event this robbery was to me. I really didn't care. It's not that I enjoyed being robbed, but more that I realize that the stuff that was taken from me is...well, just stuff. I don't judge the value of my existence by the stuff that I have.
This morning my mom brought up the burglary to me again in conversation. It wasn't until she mentioned it that I realized I hadn't even thought of the event pretty much since it happened. I also realized that I'm not really bitter about being robbed, nor do I necessarily miss the stuff that was taken.
It should be noted that this would not have always been my typical reaction. In the past I most likely would have responded in anger and resentment, wishing to exact vengeance upon those who would dare to steal from me. This time, I'm just kind of like..."Meh." What's happening to me? I suppose one option is that I'm just becoming increasingly cold and calloused as I get older. The other option, and what I think is actually happening, is that I'm growing in holiness. God is increasingly growing in me a desire for eternal things, and as a result, I value and desire temporal things less and less. This is the process of sanctification.
I'm glad I got to have this experience. In a very real sense, the burglary was a blessing.
The following morning, which was a Sunday, I sped off to church at about 7:30 AM. The Mrs. came later with the young'ns. As I met her at church, she said she was "having issues." What were the issues? It turns out that, sometime during the previous night, someone had jimmied her car door open and went through some stuff. They ended up taking a purse-like bag that was on the seat (which, oddly enough, was filled with her Children's Church materials). But other than that, nothing else appeared to be missing. We counted our blessings and went on with the day, contacting the police that afternoon just to let them know of the break-in.
At lunch that afternoon, The Mrs. asked me to purchase some 1X8 boards for a craft project she had for her kids at school. She asked me to cut the boards into one foot sections, which I said was no problem. After lunch, I went to the lumber yard, secured the wood, and took it home. A quick change of clothes after arriving at home found me out in the garage with the wood set up on my sawhorses. I went to the shelf that held my circular saw, but noticed something strange: it wasn't there. Neither was my jig saw. Neither was the case for my cordless drill. I spun around and looked throughout the rest of the garage. Huh. My table-top bandsaw was also missing from its perch. A quick perusal of the rest of the garage revealed that there was other stuff missing too - a lot of stuff. In addition to the missing power tools, two of my toolboxes were gone, one containing miscellaneous hand tools, the other containing all of my socket wrenches and sockets, which are probably my most commonly used tools. Needless to say, the thieves walked away with quite a haul. Over $500.00 in tools.
After doing all the necessary work with police, and finding out that my homeowner's insurance deductible was more than $1500.00, the words of Matthew Henry came to mind: "Let me be thankful, first, because he never robbed me before; second, because although he took my purse, he did not take my life; third, because although he took what I possessed, it was not much; and fourth, because it was I who was robbed, not I who robbed."
I've used this quote before in some of my sermons. Now I got to live it out.
As I pondered Henry's words, I began to realize how much of a non-event this robbery was to me. I really didn't care. It's not that I enjoyed being robbed, but more that I realize that the stuff that was taken from me is...well, just stuff. I don't judge the value of my existence by the stuff that I have.
This morning my mom brought up the burglary to me again in conversation. It wasn't until she mentioned it that I realized I hadn't even thought of the event pretty much since it happened. I also realized that I'm not really bitter about being robbed, nor do I necessarily miss the stuff that was taken.
It should be noted that this would not have always been my typical reaction. In the past I most likely would have responded in anger and resentment, wishing to exact vengeance upon those who would dare to steal from me. This time, I'm just kind of like..."Meh." What's happening to me? I suppose one option is that I'm just becoming increasingly cold and calloused as I get older. The other option, and what I think is actually happening, is that I'm growing in holiness. God is increasingly growing in me a desire for eternal things, and as a result, I value and desire temporal things less and less. This is the process of sanctification.
I'm glad I got to have this experience. In a very real sense, the burglary was a blessing.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Grocery Shopping, Mountain Dew, and Sanctification
I had an interesting experience today that gave me hope for my own process of sanctification and simultaneously showed me how sinful I still am - or in other words, how much work God still has yet to do in me to make me more like Jesus. It's an odd sensation to be sure, to have awareness of both parts of my nature so instantaneously and at the same time.
I've become the procurer of groceries around our house, and Sunday afternoons is my time to grocery shopping. This week I went to Rainbow, since they had more of the foods that we like to eat on sale than Cub Foods, which is the food jobber I usually patronize. One of the deals I took advantage of was the three Pespi product twelve packs for $10.99, which is a decent deal. I placed the three twelve packs of pop on the bottom of my cart, underneath the rest of my groceries which were in the main basket. After I collected my items, I proceeded to the checkout line.
When I got in line there was just one person ahead of me, so I proceeded to put my items on the conveyor belt. When the cart was empty, I was able to see through the basket and saw the pop. I had temporarily forgotten about it. Usually you can have the cashier just scan one of the cases of pop and they will multiply it by three on the register so you don't have to lug up all three cases for them to scan each one. Since I was behind someone else in line, I determined to just wait to bring the pop up off the bottom of the cart until it was my turn to check out.
When my turn came, I immediately moved the cart to the end of the checkout lane and began to bag the groceries the cashier had already scanned, while I waited to pay. All of the food went through, and as the cashier gave me my receipt she happily told me that I had saved twenty-some dollars during my visit. I was pleased.
I finished bagging the groceries and brought the cart out to my car and put the bags in the trunk. As I lifted the bags out of the cart, the cases of pop were once again revealed, and I realized that I had never given the pop to the cashier, and was not charged for it. I double checked the receipt to make sure. I had indeed not been charged for the pop.
The notion of loading the pop up into my car and going home flashed through my mind for a fraction of a second. "No," was the thought that came to mind just as quickly. "I can't do that. That's not honest." I very quickly decided to take the pop back into the store and pay for it. As I walked one of the twelve packs back into the store I was proud of myself for doing the right thing. I reveled in my obedience to God. "Some people would have just taken it without paying," I thought. "Especially since no one is the wiser. But I'm not like those people - I'm better than that." I took the pop into the store, explained the situation, and paid for it. The cashier I talked to said it happens all the time.
After reflecting on this experience, it's interesting to see the range of thoughts that I had, and what this reveals about my spiritual growth. In one sense, it shows that I'm still a sinner even though I'm a Christian. My very first thought was to just load it up as if it never happened. I'm sure Rainbow wouldn't ever notice that it was gone. It's a huge company that moves tons of food and dollars every day. What's 36 cans of pop to them? But that, of course, is not the point. I still struggle with sin. I still am tempted to do that which I know is wrong.
Secondly, this experience shows that I am being changed. At one point in my life I would have taken the pop without a second thought. It wouldn't have bothered me in the slightest. I would have counted myself lucky. Not anymore. I know what is right and wrong, even if no one is there to keep me accountable. Jesus has given me the ability to choose the right.
Thirdly, it exposes the painful slowness of my sanctification (my lifelong process of becoming more and more like Jesus and less and less enslaved to sin). Even after I had determined to do that which was good and right, I took pride in my decision to do what was right. I commended myself for being such a good person. I also somewhat looked down on those who would not do the righteous thing I had determined to do.
It's interesting to see how little, seemingly insignificant situations like this expose the spiritual battle that's going on inside me. I am justified before God and have the righteousness of Christ imputed to me. In other words, in God's eyes, I'm righteous. I am legally declared "not guilty" of sin. But I do still sin. This is what Martin Luther called "simul justus et peccator." It's a Latin phrase which means something like "at the same time justified and sinning." It's the paradox of the process of sanctification. We are justified before God - given a right legal standing - and yet we still sin.
Certainly my experience today wasn't monumental or earth shaking to any extent, but it was significant to me. It shows me who I am, what I was, and what is still going on inside me. There's still a lot of work left to be done in making me more like Jesus, and thank God that he's faithful to do it.
I've become the procurer of groceries around our house, and Sunday afternoons is my time to grocery shopping. This week I went to Rainbow, since they had more of the foods that we like to eat on sale than Cub Foods, which is the food jobber I usually patronize. One of the deals I took advantage of was the three Pespi product twelve packs for $10.99, which is a decent deal. I placed the three twelve packs of pop on the bottom of my cart, underneath the rest of my groceries which were in the main basket. After I collected my items, I proceeded to the checkout line. When I got in line there was just one person ahead of me, so I proceeded to put my items on the conveyor belt. When the cart was empty, I was able to see through the basket and saw the pop. I had temporarily forgotten about it. Usually you can have the cashier just scan one of the cases of pop and they will multiply it by three on the register so you don't have to lug up all three cases for them to scan each one. Since I was behind someone else in line, I determined to just wait to bring the pop up off the bottom of the cart until it was my turn to check out.
When my turn came, I immediately moved the cart to the end of the checkout lane and began to bag the groceries the cashier had already scanned, while I waited to pay. All of the food went through, and as the cashier gave me my receipt she happily told me that I had saved twenty-some dollars during my visit. I was pleased.
I finished bagging the groceries and brought the cart out to my car and put the bags in the trunk. As I lifted the bags out of the cart, the cases of pop were once again revealed, and I realized that I had never given the pop to the cashier, and was not charged for it. I double checked the receipt to make sure. I had indeed not been charged for the pop.
The notion of loading the pop up into my car and going home flashed through my mind for a fraction of a second. "No," was the thought that came to mind just as quickly. "I can't do that. That's not honest." I very quickly decided to take the pop back into the store and pay for it. As I walked one of the twelve packs back into the store I was proud of myself for doing the right thing. I reveled in my obedience to God. "Some people would have just taken it without paying," I thought. "Especially since no one is the wiser. But I'm not like those people - I'm better than that." I took the pop into the store, explained the situation, and paid for it. The cashier I talked to said it happens all the time.
After reflecting on this experience, it's interesting to see the range of thoughts that I had, and what this reveals about my spiritual growth. In one sense, it shows that I'm still a sinner even though I'm a Christian. My very first thought was to just load it up as if it never happened. I'm sure Rainbow wouldn't ever notice that it was gone. It's a huge company that moves tons of food and dollars every day. What's 36 cans of pop to them? But that, of course, is not the point. I still struggle with sin. I still am tempted to do that which I know is wrong.
Secondly, this experience shows that I am being changed. At one point in my life I would have taken the pop without a second thought. It wouldn't have bothered me in the slightest. I would have counted myself lucky. Not anymore. I know what is right and wrong, even if no one is there to keep me accountable. Jesus has given me the ability to choose the right.
Thirdly, it exposes the painful slowness of my sanctification (my lifelong process of becoming more and more like Jesus and less and less enslaved to sin). Even after I had determined to do that which was good and right, I took pride in my decision to do what was right. I commended myself for being such a good person. I also somewhat looked down on those who would not do the righteous thing I had determined to do.
It's interesting to see how little, seemingly insignificant situations like this expose the spiritual battle that's going on inside me. I am justified before God and have the righteousness of Christ imputed to me. In other words, in God's eyes, I'm righteous. I am legally declared "not guilty" of sin. But I do still sin. This is what Martin Luther called "simul justus et peccator." It's a Latin phrase which means something like "at the same time justified and sinning." It's the paradox of the process of sanctification. We are justified before God - given a right legal standing - and yet we still sin.
Certainly my experience today wasn't monumental or earth shaking to any extent, but it was significant to me. It shows me who I am, what I was, and what is still going on inside me. There's still a lot of work left to be done in making me more like Jesus, and thank God that he's faithful to do it.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Sin Doesn't Do Well In the Light
Challies has a great post on his sight about the communal nature of growing in holiness (a spiritual process for which the big word is "sanctification"). That is, growing in Christ-likeness - growing in holiness - takes place most efficiently in the context of relationships with other people. This is a rather foreign idea to us in the West (and it even grates on me a bit as I write it here, in fact). It's something that doesn't come naturally to us. Why not? Because we are independent people. There's nothing standing in the way of what we want to achieve other than ourselves. We can do anything we put our minds to. We live in a very individualistic society, so when we talk about other people being instrumental to our spiritual growth process, it's not an easy thing to consider.
Earlier this summer I preached a three week series on the biblical concept of fellowship. One of the key points I tried to make in those sermons was that fellowship - and all of the benefits of fellowship - always happen in the context of relationships. One cannot have Christian fellowship with oneself. It just doesn't work that way. And the Bible is clear that fellowship with other believers is a necessity for Christians. You can't be a Christian and live outside of Christian fellowship.
Challies quotes a speaker he recently heard who had this helpful thought regarding spiritual growth in the context of a community: "Sin doesn't do well in the light." The point here is that when our sins are exposed to other people we are held accountable for our actions, and can therefore repair the damage done to our relationships (temporal and spiritual) when our sin is exposed. The key here is that you have to be in community with other people in order for your sin to be exposed. You don't expose your sin to yourself - you already know what it is. The Holy Spirit does indeed expose sin to the believer, but it's difficult to be held accountable to righteousness and to mortifying those sins on our own. This is why we need other people "doing" physical and spiritual life alongside us: because sin doesn't do well in the light. The more we have people examining us in light of scripture (and vice versa, of course), and the more we have people holding us accountable to what we've put forward in those relationships, the more power we will have in conquering that sin.
Challies makes another great point that I had pondered before, but hadn't thought of in the same way he presents it. He argues that my spiritual growth is not only good for me, but it's also good for the community - the church; the group of people I'm doing life with. Why is it important to people in my community that I am growing spiritually? Because the more I am able to conquer sin, the more I can help them do the same; the more I grow, the more I can encourage others in their growth; the more I come to serve God and others, the more they can do so as well.
When you boil it down, it's almost like a a symbiotic relationship. The more I grow, the more you grow. The more you grow, the more I grow, and so on and so forth. Living in community with other people is not just a primer for spiritual growth, it is the lifeblood.
Earlier this summer I preached a three week series on the biblical concept of fellowship. One of the key points I tried to make in those sermons was that fellowship - and all of the benefits of fellowship - always happen in the context of relationships. One cannot have Christian fellowship with oneself. It just doesn't work that way. And the Bible is clear that fellowship with other believers is a necessity for Christians. You can't be a Christian and live outside of Christian fellowship.
Challies quotes a speaker he recently heard who had this helpful thought regarding spiritual growth in the context of a community: "Sin doesn't do well in the light." The point here is that when our sins are exposed to other people we are held accountable for our actions, and can therefore repair the damage done to our relationships (temporal and spiritual) when our sin is exposed. The key here is that you have to be in community with other people in order for your sin to be exposed. You don't expose your sin to yourself - you already know what it is. The Holy Spirit does indeed expose sin to the believer, but it's difficult to be held accountable to righteousness and to mortifying those sins on our own. This is why we need other people "doing" physical and spiritual life alongside us: because sin doesn't do well in the light. The more we have people examining us in light of scripture (and vice versa, of course), and the more we have people holding us accountable to what we've put forward in those relationships, the more power we will have in conquering that sin.Challies makes another great point that I had pondered before, but hadn't thought of in the same way he presents it. He argues that my spiritual growth is not only good for me, but it's also good for the community - the church; the group of people I'm doing life with. Why is it important to people in my community that I am growing spiritually? Because the more I am able to conquer sin, the more I can help them do the same; the more I grow, the more I can encourage others in their growth; the more I come to serve God and others, the more they can do so as well.
When you boil it down, it's almost like a a symbiotic relationship. The more I grow, the more you grow. The more you grow, the more I grow, and so on and so forth. Living in community with other people is not just a primer for spiritual growth, it is the lifeblood.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
The Only Sure Way to Maturity Is Through Pain
The title of this post is a quote from this video, the most recent update on Steve Saint's health following his life-changing accident. In it, Steve talks about the way God has grown him through the excruciating pain, agony, and challenges that have accompanied his accident. This man's story - not only his life story and incredible innovations for the mission field, but his story through this chapter of his life - are incredibly encouraging and edifying for believers. And it's not just in the sense that you feel sorry for him, appreciate your own health and blessings more, or anything like that, although that's certainly a part of it.
What is so encouraging to me from Steve's testimony is the way he is viewing his circumstances through the lens of God's sovereign goodness. It will definitely change the way you see accidents, tragedy, illness, and even death. God is good - all the time. He is always working for the good of those who love him and who have been called according to his purpose - even through a paralyzing injury. To be able to see that, and to see how God matures us through pain and difficulty is, in itself, a marker of maturity. This is a truth that this short article also talks about in a bit more detail.
You can watch all of the updates on Steve Saint below, starting with the first video right after the accident and concluding with the video that was released just today.
"The Next Chapter"
"Best Day Yet"
"I Stood a Mendicant of God"
"There's No Place Like Home"
What is so encouraging to me from Steve's testimony is the way he is viewing his circumstances through the lens of God's sovereign goodness. It will definitely change the way you see accidents, tragedy, illness, and even death. God is good - all the time. He is always working for the good of those who love him and who have been called according to his purpose - even through a paralyzing injury. To be able to see that, and to see how God matures us through pain and difficulty is, in itself, a marker of maturity. This is a truth that this short article also talks about in a bit more detail.
You can watch all of the updates on Steve Saint below, starting with the first video right after the accident and concluding with the video that was released just today.
"The Next Chapter"
"Best Day Yet"
"I Stood a Mendicant of God"
"There's No Place Like Home"
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
12 Reasons Why You Should Join a Small Group
Here's an article I wrote for the August Newsletter at Riverview. We'll be launching a small groups ministry this September at Riverview, so I figured it'd be appropriate to try to provide some motivation for people to join a group. Here are 12 reasons I thought of that make joining a small group something worthwhile.
1. You can become more like Jesus. As you study the Bible and have biblical fellowship with other believers, spiritual growth happens; growth in holiness happens; becoming more like Jesus happens. Being a part of a small group is a good way of taking an active part in your spiritual growth process and becoming more and more like Jesus and more and more free from sin.
2. You’ll be able to pray for people in ways you normally wouldn’t. You can only pray for people as deeply as you know the person. In a small group you’ll get to know people and how you can pray for them more specifically. Plus, as people get to know you, they can be praying for you in specific ways as well.
3. You’ll be able to utilize your spiritual gifts. Don’t know what your spiritual gift is? Joining a small group could be a good way to find out! If you do know what it is, a small group is the perfect way for you to be able to put it to good use. It’s also a good way to be served by others as they use their gifts!
1. You can become more like Jesus. As you study the Bible and have biblical fellowship with other believers, spiritual growth happens; growth in holiness happens; becoming more like Jesus happens. Being a part of a small group is a good way of taking an active part in your spiritual growth process and becoming more and more like Jesus and more and more free from sin.
2. You’ll be able to pray for people in ways you normally wouldn’t. You can only pray for people as deeply as you know the person. In a small group you’ll get to know people and how you can pray for them more specifically. Plus, as people get to know you, they can be praying for you in specific ways as well.
3. You’ll be able to utilize your spiritual gifts. Don’t know what your spiritual gift is? Joining a small group could be a good way to find out! If you do know what it is, a small group is the perfect way for you to be able to put it to good use. It’s also a good way to be served by others as they use their gifts!
4. You can help other
members of your group carry their physical and spiritual burdens. We all go through difficult things in life,
like the loss of a job, illness, death of a loved one, financial difficulty,
fear, doubt, questions, etc. and it would be nice to have someone to help us go
through those things. In a small group
you can help others when they need it, and they can help you.
5. You’ll be able to
share your spiritual experiences with others. How is your walk with Jesus going? Good?
Not so good? Whatever it is, the
more we share with one another, the more we can celebrate in the good times and
encourage one another by sharing our struggles with sin and doubt in the down
times.
6. You can confess
your sins to others. Scripture tells
us to confess our sins to one another.
Most of us don’t do that, though, probably because there isn’t anyone we
know well enough that we’d feel comfortable confessing to. In a small group you’ll be able to cultivate
relationships over time and take them to a deeper level that makes confessing
sins not only possible, but rewarding and encouraging as you receive assurance
and encouragement from your fellow group members.
7. You’ll be able to
serve other people in practical ways.
We all have physical and spiritual needs that can be met by others. In a small group you’ll not only have the
privilege of serving others, but you’ll be able to be served by others as well.
8. You can connect
what you hear at church on Sunday to the rest of your life throughout the week. Each week we’ll be looking more in depth at
the scripture from the sermon preached during the previous Sunday’s
service. Pastor Wick is writing special
study guides based on his weekly sermons for our small groups to go through
together.
9. Riverview people
are interesting and cool. Riverview
is full of all kinds of different people from all sorts of backgrounds and
walks of life. In a small group you’ll
be able to establish and deepen relationships with people God has uniquely made
and is forming into his likeness.
10. There might be
food. Your small group can decide
if, as part of the meeting time, you want to eat together. Maybe pot luck style, or maybe pizza. Either way, you could get a good meal!
11. It’s convenient,
and it will fit into your schedule.
Small groups will be able to decide what day and time work best for them
to meet. Mondays? Thursdays?
Fridays? That’s up to your
group. 5:00? 6:00?
7:00? Again, that’s up for the
folks in your group to decide. How many
times a month should we meet? 2? 3?
Every week? Whatever works best for you
and the people in the group.
12. There’s
a small group meeting near you. Our
small groups will be located throughout the area in which our members live, so
chances are that there’s a small group meeting somewhere near where you live.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Wretched Radio, and Learning to Think Theologically
Back in the early 2000's (2001 maybe?), I discovered a Christian talk radio show called "Talk the Walk" with Todd Friel on AM980 KKMS in the Twin Cities. I can remember the very first episode I ever heard - it was a man debating with and witnessing to people he was meeting at the State Fair (it was in the summer). Needless to say I was intrigued, as he easily handled any questions and objections that came his way. I made sure to tune in the next day, and heard similar content on the show.
As the State Fair wound down, the guy doing the debating and witnessing was back in the studio and talked through the issues of the day as they related to evangelical Christianity. He talked about all sorts of things: current events, issues in the church, worship, witnessing, politics, entertainment, and just about everything you can imagine. I remember being exposed to something I had not previously been able (willing?) to do: think theologically. In other words, I had never been exposed to someone thinking through every day issues from scripture. Sure, I had been to church my whole life, and by this time I was actually and genuinely a Christian. But there was a significant disconnect between my thinking and scripture. I had never been taught to examine all of my life in light of what I knew to be true about God and man, as revealed in scripture. This all began to change when I started listening to Todd Friel on Talk the Walk.
As time went on, I made sure to never miss an episode of "Talk the Walk." I listened to it every day, and recommended it to all my friends and family members. I grew immensely as I listened to Todd think through issues using scripture and theology. It was a huge part of my growth at that time.
After a couple years, Todd left "Talk the Walk," which was locally broadcast, and KKMS in order to do "Way of the Master Radio" with Ray Comfort and Kirk Cameron, a nationally syndicated show. The show's content remained essentially the same, except it now included live witnessing encounters between Todd and people on the street over the phone.
And then, after a couple of years with Way of the Master, Todd Friel left (amicably) to do his own TV show in addition to the radio show. The TV show is called "Wretched," and the radio show is aptly titled "Wretched Radio." The radio show isn't broadcast in the Twin Cities anymore, so I download the podcasts each day for the meager price of $5.00 a month. It's the best money I spend in my entire budget. For this amount I get full access to the daily TV shows and podcasts (which are essentially the same, although the podcast is two hours a day, whereas the TV show is only a half hour a day - needless to say, I prefer the podcast).
One other thing that needs to be mentioned in a post like this, and especially in light of what I've already said, is that the primary way a person learns to think theologically is through familiarity with and dedication to the Bible. In this sense, the best thing a person can do to learn to think theologically is to learn to read the Bible. Learn to read the Bible? Isn't it just reading? No, it's not just reading. It's connecting what has been read to real life. This is not as easy as it sounds, and it is definitely a skill that comes with time, practice, prayer, and humility. The Spirit is a part of this process just as much as we are.
That being said, I owe a lot of my spiritual growth and maturity to Todd Friel and the ways he's taught me to think through life and scripture (and he's a pretty funny guy, too; the shows aren't just interesting, they're pretty entertaining). I would recommend that any Christian interested in getting down and dirty with connecting scripture to real life subscribe to Wretched and listen to these podcasts and grow in your ability to think theologically. Your life will change. Seriously.
As the State Fair wound down, the guy doing the debating and witnessing was back in the studio and talked through the issues of the day as they related to evangelical Christianity. He talked about all sorts of things: current events, issues in the church, worship, witnessing, politics, entertainment, and just about everything you can imagine. I remember being exposed to something I had not previously been able (willing?) to do: think theologically. In other words, I had never been exposed to someone thinking through every day issues from scripture. Sure, I had been to church my whole life, and by this time I was actually and genuinely a Christian. But there was a significant disconnect between my thinking and scripture. I had never been taught to examine all of my life in light of what I knew to be true about God and man, as revealed in scripture. This all began to change when I started listening to Todd Friel on Talk the Walk.
As time went on, I made sure to never miss an episode of "Talk the Walk." I listened to it every day, and recommended it to all my friends and family members. I grew immensely as I listened to Todd think through issues using scripture and theology. It was a huge part of my growth at that time.
After a couple years, Todd left "Talk the Walk," which was locally broadcast, and KKMS in order to do "Way of the Master Radio" with Ray Comfort and Kirk Cameron, a nationally syndicated show. The show's content remained essentially the same, except it now included live witnessing encounters between Todd and people on the street over the phone.
One other thing that needs to be mentioned in a post like this, and especially in light of what I've already said, is that the primary way a person learns to think theologically is through familiarity with and dedication to the Bible. In this sense, the best thing a person can do to learn to think theologically is to learn to read the Bible. Learn to read the Bible? Isn't it just reading? No, it's not just reading. It's connecting what has been read to real life. This is not as easy as it sounds, and it is definitely a skill that comes with time, practice, prayer, and humility. The Spirit is a part of this process just as much as we are.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Cross-Cultural Definition of Sin
For those of you who have attended Riverview's "Multicultural Kingdom" Sunday School class this past month, here's a copy of T. Wayne Dye's article "Toward a Cross-Cultural Definition of Sin." After thinking about the class today, I don't think I did a good job of representing the ideas that Dye addresses in his article. For example, I think it's safe to say that Dye is certainly not a relativist, nor does he advocate relativism in the article, so if I gave anyone the impression that the article was promoting relativism, then I certainly didn't represent Dye's position well. So you may be better served to just read the article for yourself. I recommend it. And I hope Dye can explain his position better than I did!
Friday, January 14, 2011
Ready to be Done
OK, I've been in seminary for three years now, and I'm ready to be done. Today marked my first full day of classes for the winter quarter at Bethel Seminary. For this term, I'm continuing on in my Greek studies (with the same professor I had last quarter), I started an advanced placement hermeneutics class (advanced placement because I've already done graduate level hermeneutics, but Bethel won't acknowledge my credits from Sioux Falls seminary as being satisfactory in this area), and an Old Testament History course (which I've also already done at Sioux Falls, but the same thing applies in this area as well - not full credit). It's been a long, challenging road, and I think I'm beginning to see the pinhole that is the light at the end of my seminary tunnel. It can't come quick enough.
There have been many reasons why seminary has been challenging. The biggest one has been the effect it's had on my family. Going to school requires a lot of time away from family spent studying and going to classes. When I was going to school at Sioux Falls this was less of an issue because I was taking classes online. Now that I'm at Bethel, I'm gone for 3 hours one night of the week, and all day on another day of the week (which happens to be my day off from work!). Then pretty much every night after the kids go to bed I'm either doing school work or catching up on my regular work until I go to bed. It's a grueling schedule. Throw into the mix trying to maintain a marriage, and it gets even more difficult.
The reason for having to transfer from Sioux Falls to Bethel was because the Association of Theological Schools (the organization that accredits schools like Sioux Falls and Bethel) requires students to take a certain number of credits in an on-campus setting, all for the sake of establishing community. I think this is a bogus reason, though, and it should be re-examined by the ATS. For someone in my situation (working full time in ministry, married with kids, etc.) I've got all the community I need. I'm connected with the people at my church; I'm connected with my family and close friends. I don't need yet another network of people to interact with and get to know. That sounds rude, but consider this: in forcing me to take classes on-campus for the sake of the "community of learning" that exists there, I am forced to sacrifice the community relationships I already have (family, church, etc.). So in insisting on their community, these restrictions do damage to the existing communities I'm already a part of. Kind of ironic.
Another reason I'm ready to be done with seminary is that I am beginning to become disenfranchised with the academic establishment. Higher education should be a free marketplace of ideas, where all views and ideas are given equal consideration. And in my experience at Sioux Falls and Bethel, both schools have confessed an ideology such as this one. The reality has been significantly different, however. I have found that most professors are more interested in a closed marketplace of ideas that consists of the his or her ideas and not much else. But still, these same professors claim to be open to anything. It's rather dishonest. In many cases, the actual classroom environment that exists is one of condemning the traditional (and often times conservative) view and belittling those who adhere to it.
This was the case in my advanced placement hermeneutics course I just started yesterday. I couldn't have felt any lower, sitting in that class. I was basically told that everything I think is wrong, and that I don't care about hermeneutics or good methods of interpretation. Nothing could be further from the truth. I have good reason to believe the things that I believe, and I think I can provide an adequate case for the validity of my beliefs. And if one of my views is challenged and found wanting, I'm willing to change it or adopt a different view. But the professor presented my views in such an uneven-handed way, and he made people who subscribe to those views look so ignorant, that I just kept my mouth shut (for the most part - I did comment at a few junctures). The difficult thing for students who find themselves with a different view than the professor's is that the professor has had years and years to study and perfect his view, while the student has probably only thought about the matters superficially at the least, or maybe done a small amount of study on the matter at the most. This makes for a pretty unfair intellectual fight. So the student usually submits to the professor's superior knowledge on the subject, and thus the closed marketplace of ideas takes over.
In the case of my hermeneutics class, after the class was over, I left the room and walked straight to the registrar's office and dropped the class. I can't take it. It's not that I can't take the opposing viewpoints or arguments, or that I can't handle the academic demands of the course, but rather that I can't stomach the idea of sitting in that kind of environment for the next 10 weeks.
I'm also sick of a lot of professors whose theology and/or ecclesiology turns into liberal social commentary, and then insisting that such theology/sociology is the norm of Christians and/or scripture, and then basing grades on the students' conformity to those beliefs. While I was at Sioux Falls, I respectfully refused to complete an assignment because I couldn't do it in good conscience. The assignment had to do with conforming the student's ministry to that of Shane Claiborn, which I could not do in good conscience. Thankfully the professor acknowledged my objection and let me complete the assignment using different material. But the problem remains: don't base my grades on your own political ideologies.
Don't get me wrong: I have no problem with spirited debate or disagreement. In fact, some times its necessary. But those exchanges need to be done respectfully and with open minds - on both sides of the argument. The students and professors need to approach disagreements in the same way.
I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge the very positive parts of my seminary experience too. Along with all the bad professors and bad experiences I've had, I've also had a lot of good ones. My current Greek prof is maybe the best professor I've had in seminary so far. He's a great guy, he loves what he's teaching, and he loves what he's doing. It's a real pleasure to be learning from him. My systematic theology prof at Sioux Falls was also a great guy. He and I had a number of significant theological disagreements, but we were able to treat each other with respect and friendship. I talked to him on the phone before I left Sioux Falls (he was also my faculty advisor) and he told me that our relationship had "ministered" to him. That's what the educational experience in a Christian institution should be like: our disagreements with and challenges to one another should result in edification. Some profs get this, and some don't. Actually, most don't (at least in my experience).
Vladimir Kharlamov was also a great teacher. He gave you nothing but straight up lectures, but he was good. And he was open. The most fascinating lecture I've ever heard (about the Counter Reformation) was in his class. My New Testament prof at Sioux Falls was also a great encouragement to me.
I think the key to a successful and enjoyable seminary experience is humility, and humility all around. Professors need to humble themselves; they don't know everything. And just because they're really smart doesn't mean they're always right. Students need to humble themselves. They will encounter new ideas that seem strange and wrong, but intellectual honesty requires a sincere examination of opposing points of view.
The theme of the rest of my seminary experience is going to be Philippians 4.13. I'm not in literal chains, but sometimes it feels like it.
The reason for having to transfer from Sioux Falls to Bethel was because the Association of Theological Schools (the organization that accredits schools like Sioux Falls and Bethel) requires students to take a certain number of credits in an on-campus setting, all for the sake of establishing community. I think this is a bogus reason, though, and it should be re-examined by the ATS. For someone in my situation (working full time in ministry, married with kids, etc.) I've got all the community I need. I'm connected with the people at my church; I'm connected with my family and close friends. I don't need yet another network of people to interact with and get to know. That sounds rude, but consider this: in forcing me to take classes on-campus for the sake of the "community of learning" that exists there, I am forced to sacrifice the community relationships I already have (family, church, etc.). So in insisting on their community, these restrictions do damage to the existing communities I'm already a part of. Kind of ironic.
Another reason I'm ready to be done with seminary is that I am beginning to become disenfranchised with the academic establishment. Higher education should be a free marketplace of ideas, where all views and ideas are given equal consideration. And in my experience at Sioux Falls and Bethel, both schools have confessed an ideology such as this one. The reality has been significantly different, however. I have found that most professors are more interested in a closed marketplace of ideas that consists of the his or her ideas and not much else. But still, these same professors claim to be open to anything. It's rather dishonest. In many cases, the actual classroom environment that exists is one of condemning the traditional (and often times conservative) view and belittling those who adhere to it.
This was the case in my advanced placement hermeneutics course I just started yesterday. I couldn't have felt any lower, sitting in that class. I was basically told that everything I think is wrong, and that I don't care about hermeneutics or good methods of interpretation. Nothing could be further from the truth. I have good reason to believe the things that I believe, and I think I can provide an adequate case for the validity of my beliefs. And if one of my views is challenged and found wanting, I'm willing to change it or adopt a different view. But the professor presented my views in such an uneven-handed way, and he made people who subscribe to those views look so ignorant, that I just kept my mouth shut (for the most part - I did comment at a few junctures). The difficult thing for students who find themselves with a different view than the professor's is that the professor has had years and years to study and perfect his view, while the student has probably only thought about the matters superficially at the least, or maybe done a small amount of study on the matter at the most. This makes for a pretty unfair intellectual fight. So the student usually submits to the professor's superior knowledge on the subject, and thus the closed marketplace of ideas takes over.
In the case of my hermeneutics class, after the class was over, I left the room and walked straight to the registrar's office and dropped the class. I can't take it. It's not that I can't take the opposing viewpoints or arguments, or that I can't handle the academic demands of the course, but rather that I can't stomach the idea of sitting in that kind of environment for the next 10 weeks.
I'm also sick of a lot of professors whose theology and/or ecclesiology turns into liberal social commentary, and then insisting that such theology/sociology is the norm of Christians and/or scripture, and then basing grades on the students' conformity to those beliefs. While I was at Sioux Falls, I respectfully refused to complete an assignment because I couldn't do it in good conscience. The assignment had to do with conforming the student's ministry to that of Shane Claiborn, which I could not do in good conscience. Thankfully the professor acknowledged my objection and let me complete the assignment using different material. But the problem remains: don't base my grades on your own political ideologies.
Don't get me wrong: I have no problem with spirited debate or disagreement. In fact, some times its necessary. But those exchanges need to be done respectfully and with open minds - on both sides of the argument. The students and professors need to approach disagreements in the same way.
Vladimir Kharlamov was also a great teacher. He gave you nothing but straight up lectures, but he was good. And he was open. The most fascinating lecture I've ever heard (about the Counter Reformation) was in his class. My New Testament prof at Sioux Falls was also a great encouragement to me.
I think the key to a successful and enjoyable seminary experience is humility, and humility all around. Professors need to humble themselves; they don't know everything. And just because they're really smart doesn't mean they're always right. Students need to humble themselves. They will encounter new ideas that seem strange and wrong, but intellectual honesty requires a sincere examination of opposing points of view.
The theme of the rest of my seminary experience is going to be Philippians 4.13. I'm not in literal chains, but sometimes it feels like it.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Hamstring the Horses and Burn the Chariots
In our men's Bible study tonight at church, we read Joshua 11 and 12. Basically, a whole bunch of Canaanite kings joined forces to go against Israel. In verse 4 of chapter 11 it says that the number of soldiers coming against Israel were as many as the sand on the seashore, "with very many horses and chariots." In verse 6 God tells Joshua that, when the battle is over, he should hamstring the horses and burn the chariots. In verse 9 that's exactly what Joshua does.
The whole book of Joshua is a testament to the greatness of God as he empowers Israel to dominate their enemies and take the land that is theirs. The author of Joshua goes to great lengths to show that it is God who has the power, and not the people, and that the only reason the Israelites are successful is because God is fighting for them.
It seems reasonable to think that Israel, as a nation and as a military force, did not have access to either horses or chariots. There is significant evidence that this was the case. The question that seems to arise then, is this: why did the Israelites hamstring the horses and burn the chariots of their enemies? Why not take the horses and chariots for themselves? There was still some land that needed to be conquered, and people that needed to be kicked out of the Promised Land. Why not take the horses and chariots to aid in those endeavors? Certainly Israel would have been that much more of a dominating force if they had these resources. Or if not for battle, why not at least take the horses to use for transportation or labor purposes? It just doesn't seem to make sense. Why destroy such useful tools?
I can think of at least two reasons for why God had Joshua and the Israelites hamstring the horses and burn the chariots.
1) The use of chariots was probably the pinnacle of military technology at the time. In telling the Israelites to essentially destroy the things that could help them, God was telling them that they didn't need excessive technology or weapons to achieve what they wanted to achieve. They only needed God. If the Israelites were to take and use the horses and chariots of their enemies, they may have ended up trusting in their superior equipment or technology rather than God. Israel had this problem earlier in the book of Joshua, and it didn't work out well for them.
2) God was showing the Israelites that he was bigger and better than the best that man had to offer. The Egyptians were known and feared for their use of horses and chariots in military campaigns. In the ancient world, the army with the horses and chariots had a significant upper hand in any battle. Horses of the day were trained not to stop for anything. They were essentially trained to run over any and everything in their way. Thus a single horse-drawn chariot could be an extremely powerful weapon. The only way to stop it would be to kill the horse or the driver. But even with all the advantages that horses and chariots offered an army, those advantages were nothing compared to having God on your side and fighting for you. I think this was something the Israelites needed to see: God is infinitely better than anything man could offer. And when you have God on your side, things like horses and chariots seem to pale in comparison.
I think I need to hamstring some horses and burn some chariots in my life.
The whole book of Joshua is a testament to the greatness of God as he empowers Israel to dominate their enemies and take the land that is theirs. The author of Joshua goes to great lengths to show that it is God who has the power, and not the people, and that the only reason the Israelites are successful is because God is fighting for them.
It seems reasonable to think that Israel, as a nation and as a military force, did not have access to either horses or chariots. There is significant evidence that this was the case. The question that seems to arise then, is this: why did the Israelites hamstring the horses and burn the chariots of their enemies? Why not take the horses and chariots for themselves? There was still some land that needed to be conquered, and people that needed to be kicked out of the Promised Land. Why not take the horses and chariots to aid in those endeavors? Certainly Israel would have been that much more of a dominating force if they had these resources. Or if not for battle, why not at least take the horses to use for transportation or labor purposes? It just doesn't seem to make sense. Why destroy such useful tools?
I can think of at least two reasons for why God had Joshua and the Israelites hamstring the horses and burn the chariots.
1) The use of chariots was probably the pinnacle of military technology at the time. In telling the Israelites to essentially destroy the things that could help them, God was telling them that they didn't need excessive technology or weapons to achieve what they wanted to achieve. They only needed God. If the Israelites were to take and use the horses and chariots of their enemies, they may have ended up trusting in their superior equipment or technology rather than God. Israel had this problem earlier in the book of Joshua, and it didn't work out well for them.
2) God was showing the Israelites that he was bigger and better than the best that man had to offer. The Egyptians were known and feared for their use of horses and chariots in military campaigns. In the ancient world, the army with the horses and chariots had a significant upper hand in any battle. Horses of the day were trained not to stop for anything. They were essentially trained to run over any and everything in their way. Thus a single horse-drawn chariot could be an extremely powerful weapon. The only way to stop it would be to kill the horse or the driver. But even with all the advantages that horses and chariots offered an army, those advantages were nothing compared to having God on your side and fighting for you. I think this was something the Israelites needed to see: God is infinitely better than anything man could offer. And when you have God on your side, things like horses and chariots seem to pale in comparison.
I think I need to hamstring some horses and burn some chariots in my life.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Pleasantly Surprised
For one of my seminary classes this quarter I've had to read The Return of the Prodigal Son by Henri Nouwen. It's essentially an interpretation of the parable of the prodigal son through the lens of a painting of the same name by Rembrandt. The class the for which the reading was assigned is certainly not one of my favorites. In fact, I usually find myself trudging through the four hours of class time each week, watching the clock, until I can leave. The content of the course is a bit to touchy-feely for me. It's got a "connect with your feelings" type of feel, and that's just not my thing, nor do I think it's really a biblical way to go about things, such as spiritual growth.
Before I read the book, I wasn't really looking forward to reading it. I had heard some things about Henri Nouwen that didn't really excite me, and I've read some things by people I have significant theological disagreements with who cite Nouwen in their work. Needless to say, I thought the book would be a bummer at best, and make me angry at worst. I was wrong on both accounts. It was a really good read.
Nouwen presents a lot of biographical information about the artist, Rembrandt, and weaves it into the painting, and also into the parable. Fascinating stuff, really. He makes a lot of great connections that I had never thought of before, probably because I was too familiar with the parable to be able to see them myself (specifically, I thought the connection of the older son to a Pharisaic, legalistic worldview was very interesting, and probably spot on - I'd never heard this interpretation before). If you think you know the parable of the prodigal son, let me assure you, there is always more to learn and new insights to gain. And this book is a great way to do just that.
A few warnings for you, though, should you choose to look at the book: 1) it's always a dangerous thing to try to interpret scripture through something else, such as a particular worldview, political bent, painting, music, etc. It's one step further away from the unadulterated truth. I'm not saying it can't be done, but it should be done extremely carefully, and rarely. Scripture can always speak for itself. It doesn't need anything else to communicate. Nouwen does a good job with this in his book, though, and he notes a few places where the painting is inadequate. 2) There is a section in the book about God as mother that I wasn't too fond of. Thankfully, this section is short and doesn't really influence the rest of Nouwen's work. 3) Much like my class, I think there are times when Nouwen brings too much emotion into the picture, and not enough scripture or theology.
The Return of the Prodigal Son by Henri Nouwen. Check it out.
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