Archives For liberation

Before it is anything else, the story told in the book of Exodus is a story of God acting in history to free his people from captivity in Egypt. It’s a story of God’s faithfulness to a not-so-faithful people.

In that story, however – that true story – there are lessons to be learned for those of us who have never been made to make literal bricks in a literal Egypt. Dr. Chuck DeGroat, author of Leaving Egypt: Finding God in the Wilderness Places (Square Inch), writes in the book’s introduction, “I have come to believe that the Exodus story deeply reflects all our stories.”

Drawing on his experience as a pastor and therapist in San Francisco, DeGroat meditates on the ways in which the journey out of Egypt and the journey out of addictions have powerful parallels, giving us helpful language with which to speak about enslavements of various kinds and the pervasive guilt and shame that accompany them.

The book is divided into four sections, representing the four stages in the journey – from Egypt to Sinai and on to the wilderness before finally coming home. While Egypt represents slavery, it also represents the status quo. This admittedly holds some appeal, given the dangers that await us in the wilderness. No wonder some never leave, unable to trust God or others in their quest for freedom.

Those of us who’ve been led out of Egypt, however, discover that the journey has only just begun. We find ourselves in Sinai – not the final destination by any means, but the place where we’re given our new identity as a free people who are called to live accordingly.

Charged with a whole new way of living we soon enter the wilderness where, as DeGroat puts it, “we’re faced with our worst fears and our greatest possibilities.” You don’t get through the wilderness in a day, and you don’t get through it unchanged.

On the other side of it all, after Egypt and Sinai and the wilderness, home awaits us: “a place where God smiles on us, dwells in us, and embraces us.” While our ultimate arrival is still to come, and though Egypt keeps pulling us back, we’re invited even now into the life of the kingdom.

There’s always the danger in a book like this of taking historical accounts and turning them into mere self-help material for people who in many ways enjoy a kind of freedom brick-makers in Egypt could hardly imagine. Fortunately, Chuck DeGroat mostly avoids these pitfalls by pointing throughout to the unchanging character of God in the face of all kinds of bondage. While as God’s people we continue to squander our freedom, turning again and again to lesser gods, the God who saved his people then stands ready to save his people still.

This review originally appeared at the Englewood Review of Books. If you’re inclined to read books electronically, you should know that Leaving Egypt is available at Amazon for a limited time for 99 cents!

I don’t normally think of myself as an artist, but being made in the image of the Creator God, all of us have a bit of that God-given creativity in us, I think. We have all been given different creative instincts; we’ve all been called to create something good using the raw materials with which we’ve been entrusted. For many, art is seen as a mostly indulgent, frivolous undertaking. But that’s a narrow view of art. Art takes a million forms, and while it can certainly distract or dehumanize, it can also be used to liberate. Art is liberating when it turns our focus away from ourselves — turns us outward, possibly even upward.

In his excellent book Scribbling in the Sand: Christ and Creativity (InterVarsity Press), singer, songwriter and Biblical scholar Michael Card makes the connection between art and the biblical prophets, emphasizing the generally overlooked spiritual significance of the imagination.

“Through the prophets we come to understand that God is out to recapture all that we are or can hope to be,” he writes, “not just the mind or the heart but the mind of the heart, the heart of the mind, which is the imagination.” Looking at the biblical prophets, we see that the imagination is recaptured mostly through images and parables, but also, at times, through what can only be considered “bizarre activity.” The burden of the prophets was to show the people of God the error of their ways, to plea with them to change course, to return to God, and to do so without wasting another day.

The need for the recapturing of the imagination continues today. And there are few tools better suited to this task than art, which in a million different ways can turn us outward and upward, pointing beyond ourselves and to the one in whose image we have each of us been fearfully and wonderfully made.

[Painting credit: Scott Erickson/derekwebb.com]

Two weeks ago I posted a video of Nicholas Wolterstorff speaking on the topic of justice in Scripture. At that time I mentioned being in the middle of his book Until Justice and Peace Embrace, and that I expected to finish reading it in about three years. Well, I’m happy to say I finished ahead of schedule. I had every intention of keeping this brief, but the book is simply so full of such rich material that I had to turn it into a three-part series. For anyone concerned with the intersections of faith, development, justice and peace — as I am — Wolterstorff gives us a lot to chew on. Here is some of what I found most helpful, broken down in bite-size pieces.

Appropriating the Reformed tradition
The book began as the Kuyper Lectures at the Free University of Amsterdam thirty years ago, and as Wolterstorff explains in the preface, the ideas he presented were an attempt to appropriate the Reformed/Presbyterian tradition to which he and many in his audience belonged. “Appropriation of one’s tradition implies neither uncritical acceptance nor total rejection,” he writes. “It entails a discriminating adaptation of its features to one’s own situation.”

World-formative vs. avertive traditions
The Reformed/neo-Calvinist tradition at its best, he says, is a world-formative tradition, as opposed to an avertive one, such as the predominant Medieval expression of Christianity. He spends a chapter articulating the difference between the two kinds of traditions, but in a nutshell, world-formative traditions (Reformed and otherwise) believe that faithfulness to God requires active involvement in society.

Lima, Amsterdam and beyond
Liberation theology emerged within the Catholic Church in revolutionary Latin America during the second half of the twentieth century. It too is a world-formative tradition, focused on theologizing through the eyes of the poor, and working for political liberation from rampant injustice — even, if necessary, through violent means. Liberation theology and neo-Calvinism have some similarities beyond the fact that they’re both world-formative, Wolterstorff says, but they also have a key difference, and it’s a fascinating one to me: one (liberation) views societal problems through the category of sin; the other (neo-Calvinism) through the category of idolatry. Which is right? Can you pick one?

We do in fact live in a world-system in which the core dominates the periphery, characteristically out of greed and a lust for power. What is that but sin? We do in fact live in a world-system shaped by the practice of treating economic growth as an autonomous and ultimate good. What is that but idolatry?

Both frameworks have validity, Wolterstorff argues, and both correct deficiencies in the other. And this is where I am so impressed with him for appropriating his own tradition, just as he said. He doesn’t uncritically accept it or totally reject it. But he called his audience in Amsterdam, and he calls you and me today, to a vision beyond either of these two world-formative traditions. What is that vision?

Shalom
Shalom, he writes, “is both God’s cause in the world and our human calling.” It’s “intertwined” with justice but distinct from it:

In shalom, each person enjoys justice, enjoys his or her rights. There is no shalom without justice. But shalom goes beyond justice. Shalom is the human being dwelling at peace in all his or her relationships… But the peace which is shalom is not merely the absence of hostility, not merely being in right relationship. Shalom at its highest is enjoyment in one’s relationships… To dwell in shalom is to enjoy living before God, toenjoy living in one’s physical surroundings, to enjoy living with one’s fellows, to enjoy life with oneself.

Because shalom is about right relationships, it’s about ethics and responsibility. But if enjoyment and delight are missing, it’s not shalom. That’s a pretty compelling vision, if you ask me. We’ll explore some of its ramifications tomorrow.