Archives For theology

After some time living in India, the missiologist Lesslie Newbigin was challenged by a well-educated Hindu friend, who said to him:

I can’t understand why you missionaries present the Bible to us in India as a book of religion. It is not a book of religion — and anyway we have plenty of books on religion in India. We don’t need any more! I find your Bible a unique interpretation of universal history, the history of the whole creation and the history of the human race. And therefore a unique interpretation of the human person as a responsible actor in history. That is unique. There is nothing else in the whole religious literature of the world to put alongside it.

Newbigin realized his friend was right. This was a turning point in Newbigin’s understanding of the Bible, and in turn, his understanding of mission. In A Walk Through the Bible (Barefoot Ministries), the print version of a series of radio talks, Newbigin presents the Bible as one story that offers a unique account of history and “enables us to understand our own lives as part of that story.”

This is especially crucial, he says, because humans have tended to go in one of two directions in making sense of life. On the one hand have been those who have seen individual human beings as expendable contributors to some ideological project. “The logic of this,” Newbigin says, “has been developed with terrible precision in some of the movements of the twentieth century in which millions of men and women have been sacrificed for the sake of some ideology, some vision of a perfect society in the future.”

On the other hand, many attempt to find meaning and purpose through the pursuit of personal fulfillment, which “inevitably takes [us] away in the end from total involvement in the human project of civilization.” There are many who pursue personal fulfillment without any reference to God, but this approach is at home in religious circles as well. As we all know, “there is a kind of spirituality that leads us away from our active involvement in the business of the world.”

“So the alternatives,” Newbigin summarizes, “seem to be either finding meaning for history as a whole at the cost of no meaning for my personal life; or else finding meaning for my personal life at the cost of no meaning for the story as a whole.”

The Bible, however, read as “a unique interpretation of universal history,” shows us a third way. And it does so by making sense of death. As Newbigin writes, “We die because nothing that we have done or been is good enough for God’s perfect kingdom.” But Jesus, by his death and resurrection, takes care of the problem of sin and death as a barrier to the kingdom, and that, as we know, makes all the difference both now and forever:

So in so far as I commit all that I do, imperfect as it is, to God in Jesus Christ, knowing that much of it is utterly unfit to survive and yet trusting that what has been committed in faith will find its place in God’s final kingdom, that gives me something to look forward to in which both my hopes for the world and my hopes for myself are brought together.

The book of Revelation offers us the vision of a city which is on the one hand the perfection of all human striving towards beauty, civilization and good order, and on the other hand is the place where every tear is dried and where every one of us knows God face to face, and knows that we are his and he is ours. That is the vision with which the Bible ends, and it is a vision that enables us to see the whole human story and each of our lives within that story as meaningful, and which therefore invites us through Jesus Christ to become responsible actors in history, not to seek to run away from the responsibilities and the agonies of human life in its public dimension. Each of us must be ready to take our share in all the struggles and the anguish of human history and yet with the confidence that what is committed to Christ will in the end find its place in his final kingdom.

That means that as I look forward I don’t see just an empty void, I don’t just see my own death, I don’t just see some future utopia in which I shall have no share. The horizon to which I look forward is that day when Jesus shall come, and his holy city will come down as a bride from heaven adorned for her husband.

What would change if we began reading the Bible not merely as a book of “religion” but as “a unique interpretation of universal history”? How can we ensure our lives are aligned, not according to some ideology or pursuit of personal fulfillment, but to the story of the Bible?

Repaso: August 17, 2012

August 17, 2012 — 1 Comment

1. Balancing individual rights and the common good
Michael Gerson writes for last week’s Capital Commentary:

Americans have a right to self-defense, just as they have a right to free speech and the free exercise of religion.  But none of these rights is unlimited.  Free speech is not the right to create public dangers.  Freedom of religion is not the right to fraud or child abuse.  And the Second Amendment is not a right to weapons of mass destructive capacity.  This is the reason prudence and judgment are among the highest political virtues.  It is often necessary to balance individual rights and the public good. This is the spirit that people of faith should bring to the political enterprise.  It is beyond the power of politics to solve every problem—and it can be destructive for government to try.  But it is possible to make incremental, patient gains in the common good.

2. A perennial moment of opportunity
Vincent Bacote writes for Comment of the need for biblical saturation, rather than mere intuition, to support holistic mission:

Like Moses, we all (not only younger evangelicals) need to hear the charge to saturate our lives with God’s word. This saturation ought to lead us to a vision and practice of holistic mission that has personal and public dimensions. We can live beyond the suggestions of intuition and have greater guidance through God’s word and the power of the Spirit. This is not a new thing, but perhaps it is news to some of us. We have a great responsibility and opportunity at hand for faithful participation in art, business, politics, education, and other public domains. Where will we turn to guide us to a faith that is truly for all of life?

3. Microfinance in Nicaragua
Tim Maurer writes for Forbes about what microfinance means for the people of La Chureca, the garbage dump in Managua, Nicaragua (HT Chris Horst):

This is not a sermon or a sales pitch, but a story about a place as inspiring as it is disturbing, where greed has raped a people of their material resources and dignity but where brilliantly applied generosity has created hope and enterprise of which Fortune 500 companies would be envious.

4. Tilling among the tulips
Leslie Leyland Fields tells the story of an urban farm in what used to be a strip mall parking lot. Jeff Roessing, who started the farm, believes the theology behind the work is essential:

When I talk to Christian farmers in the green movement, it’s really encouraging that we’re all trying to live out our faith in a real way, but as the pendulum swings, I’m seeing more silence on the theology part of it. Yeah, we’re restoring the land, but our hope is not in farming. I don’t want to lose sight of the fact that God is going to make all things new. In all of this work, people are vitally important, and Christ has to be central.

5. To Kindle or not to Kindle
In a post readers of books will appreciate, Jake Belder reflects on the pros and cons of Kindles compared to real books:

Every time I see a new book I want to buy, I think for a minute about buying the proper Kindle version from Amazon, but I never do. And there are a few reasons that keep me from taking that step.

6. Crowd-sourcing the aid agenda
Jamie Drummond, who co-founded the advocacy organization ONE, gave this imaginative TED Talk about the Millennium Development Goals and what happens after 2015.

Repaso is intended as a thought-provoking compilation of news and commentary from the past week related to the intersections of faith, development, justice and peace. As always, I welcome your thoughts on any of the links and ideas in this roundup!

[Photo credit: eighthdayfarm.com]

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!

Last week I introduced this new series on the Lausanne Movement and its contributions to a better understanding of the intersections of faith, development, justice and peace. As I mentioned in that post, I’m going to begin with a presentation from René Padilla titled “Evangelism and the World.” Padilla is originally from Ecuador, and along with Samuel Escobar (who we’ll turn to next week) he was a pioneer of what became known in Latin America  as “integral mission.” He was also a leader of the Latin American Theological Fellowship and has written a number of books including Mission Between the Times: Essays on the Kingdom.

Taking a look at the spectrum of Christian belief and practice at the time, Padilla saw two “extreme positions.” On the one hand, adherents of the social gospel in North America, and proponents of liberation theology throughout Latin America, understood salvation to be limited to the physical, political and social realm. Meanwhile, fundamentalists and evangelicals were reducing salvation to the future destiny of the soul. Both views of the gospel are incomplete, Padilla argued, saying that Christians must embrace “the whole Gospel for the whole man for the whole world.” He continued:

On the one hand, the Gospel cannot be reduced to social, economic and political categories, nor the church to an agency for human improvement… On the other hand, there is no biblical warrant to view the church as an other-worldly community dedicated to the salvation of souls, or to limit its mission to the preaching of man’s reconciliation to God through Jesus Christ.

In this presentation in 1974, I’m sure Padilla ruffled some feathers, though he believed that for the most part he had a sympathetic audience (he was, after all, speaking to a room full of people committed to the gospel and its global implications). Like Dietrich Bonhoeffer a generation or so before him, Padilla issued a devastating critique of superficial evangelism, what Bonhoeffer called “cheap grace.” Padilla argued that evangelism is about more than just getting people to believe a certain set of doctrines to ensure a future reward:

The aim of evangelization is… to lead man, not merely to a subjective experience of the future salvation of his soul, but to a radical reorientation of his life.

This radical reorientation of one’s life, he goes on to say, has unavoidable ethical and social implications. Padilla doesn’t deny the relationship between the gospel and personal holiness (and neither do I!), but knowing his audience, he was zeroing in on a huge blind spot. Evangelicals had all too often concentrated on “microethics” while tending to shy away from anything having to do with “macroethics.” People being shaped by the gospel ought to be concerned about both, he argued.

What’s more, he critiqued the pervasive problems of worldliness in the church, adapting the gospel to the “spirit of the times.” While evangelicals were quick to decry secularization, he said, they often failed to recognize the ways in which their understanding and practice of Christianity was shaped more by the prevailing culture than by the gospel. This isn’t a problem unique to North American Christians by any means, but given American Christianity’s influence around the world, confusing Jesus’s offer of abundant life with the American Dream presents a serious problem for Christians everywhere.

Recognizing our propensity to confuse the gospel with our culture’s understanding of “the good life” should lead us to a process of prayerful discernment, seeking to contextualize without becoming syncretistic, to use a couple of big missiological terms. When we fail to contextualize well, we either withdraw from the world we’re called to love, or we become no different from the world; both represent unfaithfulness to our Lord. In ethical and social terms,

When the church lets itself be squeezed into the mold of the world, it loses the capacity to see and, even more, to denounce, the social evils in its own situation… A Gospel that leaves untouched our life in the world — in relationship to the world of men as well as in relationship to the world of creation — is not the Christian Gospel, but culture Christianity, adjusted to the mood of the day. This kind of Gospel has no teeth.

By marching along in the world’s parade, favoring quantity to quality, and embracing technological efficiency in our churches and ministries without question, Padilla argued, we reduced the gospel to a “cheap product” and “turned the strategy for the evangelization of the world into a problem of technology.” Technology and efficiency have their place, he said, but “it is to this absolutization of efficiency, at the expense of the integrity of the Gospel, that I object.”

For those of us who would say we take the Bible seriously, we’d do well to examine our understanding of the gospel to see whether, in light of Scripture, these critiques have merit. What cultural values or norms have we absolutized at the expense of the integrity of the gospel? How have we adjusted the gospel to the mood of the day?

For those of us who are part of the church in the U.S., who can’t simply shake off our culture, we’d do well to ask how we can overcome the temptation to settle for cultural Christianity. At the same time, for those who are part of the church in Africa, Asia, Latin America, the Middle East and elsewhere, the challenge is to be proactive, to avoid creating your own culturally-modified, toothless Christianity.

The gospel is to be incarnated in culture wherever we are, affirming what is good, resisting what is evil, and discerning, through the guidance of the Holy Spirit, where that distinction lies. I’m grateful to René Padilla for helping us begin that process of discernment.

I shared this video last September, but here René Padilla and Samuel Escobar, as Latin American leaders, reflect on the Lausanne Movement’s accomplishments and shortcomings. Next week I’ll take a look at Escobar’s presentation at Lausanne in 1974.

[Photo credit: Latin America Mission]

In recent weeks I’ve been doing some reading and blogging related to worldview and the role it plays in shaping how we live as Christians in light of what God has done, is doing and will do in history. Michael Goheen really piqued my interest in this when I heard him speak here in Phoenix in early March. He described his theological and spiritual journey, including what he describes as an important shift from a theological system to a theological worldview (my notes from the talk are here). In last Monday’s post, Bryant Myers suggested “we are to see the world as created, fallen, and being redeemed, all at the same time.” And then on Thursday, Steven Garber in his book The Fabric of Faithfulness argued that if we are to weave together belief and behavior, it is essential to develop “a worldview sufficient for the challenges of the modern world.”

All these writers and thinkers have more or less the same thing in mind, I think, when they refer to worldview, but it’s also a term that carries all sorts of connotations for different people, so today I want to back up and take a look at what worldview means, drawing on the excellent little book Creation Regained: Biblical Basics for a Reformational Worldview (Eerdmans). It was originally written in 1985 by Al Wolters, and then re-released twenty years later, with an afterword by Michael Goheen himself (there’s a lot of overlap between that afterword and what he had to say in his talk).

Wolters defines worldview as “the comprehensive framework of one’s basic beliefs about things,” a definition he then breaks down bit by bit (I won’t spell it out here, but each word is carefully chosen).

Like the others I referred to earlier, Wolters believes that a biblical worldview is best understood by the basic scriptural categories of creation, fall and redemption. He also contends that our worldview is to inform all of life; the Bible leaves no room for compartmentalizing certain parts of life into the mutually exclusive categories of sacred (church, spiritual practices, Bible study, etc) and secular (economics, politics, technology, etc). In other words,

The plea being made here for a biblical worldview is simply an appeal to the believer to take the Bible and its teaching seriously for the totality of our civilization right now and not to relegate it to some optional area called “religion.”

All of that is established in the first chapter, and then chapters two, three and four have to do with spelling out a fuller, deeper understanding of creation, fall and redemption, respectively. I hope you’ll read the book so you can see everything he has to say about the nuances of each of those three, but the biggest contribution Creation Regained makes is the chapter on discerning the difference between “structure” and “direction.” The terms may be confusing at first, but understood properly, the implications of that distinction are huge for our everyday lives.

I’ll try to sum it up in a paragraph. First, all things are created good (their “structure” is good), but all created things have been deformed by the Fall and sin (that is, they have been “misdirected”). As Christians, too often we recognize the directional distortion of something and discard it as sinful, but we fail to affirm its structural goodness, and miss the opportunity to see how, as a structurally good but misdirected part of creation, it can be redirected for purposes that please God and, in turn, serve the common good. With this distinction in mind, we can truly be “reformers” rather than either seeking to obliterate what’s tainted by sin on the one hand, or by fatalistically accepting the sin-tainted status quo on the other. In other words, distinguishing between structure and direction gives us an alternative to both “revolution” and “quietistic conservatism,” two approaches that leave much to be desired:

Our focus on structure rejects a sympathy for revolution, and our focus on direction condemns a quietistic conservatism… In sum we may say that whereas consecration leaves things internally untouched, and revolution annihilates things, reformation renews and sanctifies them. God calls us to cleanse and reform all the sectors of our lives.

That goes for our personal lives and our interpersonal relationships, but it also has huge implications for our life as citizens and as active participants in political, economic, and other systems. So, for an example applicable to the readers of this blog, when we’re faced with an ethical dilemma like alleged abuses of workers on the other side of the world tied to the practices of a corporation which we support through our purchases, we’re presented with an alternative to the two predictable and insufficient responses. It doesn’t do to ignore the abuses as inevitable, “necessary evils” in our complicated, interconnected world. And it doesn’t do to decry the corporation for being a corporation and part of the free market system. Rather, we seek to discern structure and direction. What about the corporation is structurally a good part of creation? What about the corporation has been misdirected by sin? And what might we as “reformers” (or what Gabe Lyons calls “restorers”) do to redirect and reform that corporation so that what is good about it can continue, and so that it can contribute to the flourishing of all, including those on the other end of the market equation?

That’s a whole new way of seeing the world, it seems to me, and a whole new way of living. It’s not cynical and detached, but it’s not playing to either side of the culture wars, either. It is, however, rooted in the big narrative arc of Scripture — creation, fall, redemption — which is also the narrative arc of history. It’s brimming with promise, isn’t it? It’s realistic and it’s hopeful. It has both roots and wings.

As Wolters says clearly, developing this sort of a worldview — learning to see the world and our lives through this kind of a biblical lens — doesn’t answer every question and solve every problem we will encounter. In community with other believers and with the guidance of the Holy Spirit we’re given the task of discerning the implications of biblical teaching for all these areas of life. We won’t do it perfectly all the time, but we can learn and grow. Most of all, developing a biblical worldview gives us a framework for understanding our lives in the world, and it gives us the right questions to ask:

To approach the phenomena of the world in terms of structure and direction is to look at reality through the corrective lens of Scripture, which everywhere speaks of a good creation and the drama of its reclamation by the Creator in Jesus Christ.

Do you find the themes of creation, fall and redemption — as well as the distinction between structure and direction — helpful for navigating the challenges of everyday life? Is there any part of this “worldview” you’d call into question?