Christians in Context: from orthodoxy to orthopraxy.

Book Review: The Hole In Our Gospel by Richard Stearns

jared@redeemeromaha.org (Jared) — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 17:17:00 +0000

While the gospel of social justice is a popular topic today, it is refreshing to read a presentation of the Gospel that gives both spiritual transformation and social justice its biblical due. Richard Stearns, president of World Vision, has written a compelling book that pulls the blinders off of our comfortable, American Christianity. While social justice was given the bulk of the attention here, this is due to Stearns' sense of it's utter neglect in the Gospel of many evangelicals.

This book read like a half autobiography/half World Vision sponsor video script, neither of which I particularly enjoy but both of which I found compelling. And certainly, when there is such abject poverty and suffering in our world, and when we live in such opulence by comparison, we do not deserve to enjoy everything we read.

I was not convinced by some of Stearns' arguments from the Bible. I am still of the mind that Jesus' proclamation of good news to the poor, freedom for the prisoners, recovery of sight for the blind, and release of the oppressed was primarily (though not solely) referring to the spiritually poor, imprisoned, blind, and oppressed. Case in point: how many prisoners did Jesus free? Not even John the Baptist was freed by Jesus.

However, much of Stearns' offering was well-reasoned and biblically supported. World Vision's founder, Bob Pierce, famously prayed, "Let my heart be broken by the things that break the heart of God." How will this ever be true if we blind ourselves to the things that break the heart of God?

The Balancing Act of Jesus

jared@redeemeromaha.org (Jared) — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 22:27:00 +0000

One thing that has always puzzled me about the ministry of Jesus is why he would exert so much effort to squash the buzz surrounding him. There are seven separate occasions recorded in the book of Mark where Jesus instructed the recipient of a healing miracle to "Tell no one!" Even more fascinating are the accounts of Jesus telling demons to be silent when they cry "You are the Son of God!" as they are cast out. Luke says that he rebuked them and would not allow them to speak, because they knew he was the Christ (4:41).

However, I think these are indicators of the type of ministry Jesus was setting out to create. He was not simply trying to bring the kingdom of heaven to earth with his teachings. He wasn't just aiming to start a movement. He didn't want to amass a large group of followers. At least not yet.

Jesus, from the very beginning, had his eyes set on the cross. He knew that all his teachings and ministry would be futile if atonement was never made for the sinfulness of mankind. No amount of wisdom from the mouth of God would accomplish what he knew must take place through the cross in his death and resurrection.

Jesus had to keep his followers few enough, his teachings hard enough, and his identity vague enough that the cross would become a reality.

So with this little insight, many strange things in the Gospels start to fall into place. Two of the three recorded temptations from Satan in the wilderness would have instantly revealed Jesus' true identity and drawn the militant masses ready to fight Rome in the name of the Messiah. The same would have taken place if all the healed were proclaiming him. This also would explain why Jesus snapped "Get behind me, Satan!" when Peter tried to dissuade him at saying he would die in Jerusalem. When an overt temptation to bypass the cross failed in the desert, Satan tried again in the form of a trusted friend.

Jesus would be seen as Messiah all the more by the masses if the demons were allowed to proclaim the truth that he was the Son of God as they were cast out. Instead, when Jesus was asked by whose authority he performed his miracles, he replied with a question. When his challengers were unable to answer his question, he said "Neither will I tell you by what authority I do these things". Even so Jesus, on at least one occasion, had to escape "knowing that they intended to come and make him king by force".

And it was not just the masses who had trouble deciding about Jesus. In an amazing twist, John the Baptist, while in prison, sent a few of his own followers to ask Jesus if he was the Messiah or if they should expect someone else. This from the very person who prepared the way for Jesus and even proclaimed him the Lamb of God at his baptism.

And what of all his hard teachings? Hate your brother and mother and father? Eat my body? Drink my blood? Tear this temple down and in three days I will raise it up? Through the lens of the cross and the harmony of Scripture we see the truth and beauty of his words, but on the front end of his death he sounded kinda nutty. Though the disciples knew he had the "words of eternal life", there are several points recorded in the Gospels where they grasped Jesus' teaching only after his resurrection and glorification. And while the disciples hung on and remembered even when they didn't understand, many others were driven away by Jesus words.

This starts to become quite distressing when considering all the people "driven away" from the Gospel by Jesus himself! That is, of course, unless Jesus "knew what was in a man" and knew that many had just come to be entertained by the talk of the town. Disturbing, unless Jesus knew that "All that the Father gives me will come to me", and "No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him". Confusing, unless Jesus spoke in parables precisely to weed out those who, "Though seeing they do not see, and though hearing they do not hear or understand". The behavior of Jesus is quite frustrating unless he has a cool confidence in the sovereignty and election of God to bring all the sheep out from among the rebellious and cold-hearted wolves into the fold of the Shepherd and not lose one.

So throughout the Gospels I see a balancing act emerging, a tight-rope walk on the part of Jesus. His words of life tempered by hard teachings. Questions answered contrasted with questions left unanswered. Jesus proclaiming his own divinity (often vaguely) but squashing overt proclamations from the demons. Miracles performed followed by miracles refused. Crowds drawn and beckoned, and then driven away. All this to ensure the climax and apex of his incarnation, his death and resurrection. If you still find this hard to believe, consider Jesus' own words to his disciples: "What I tell you in the dark, speak in the daylight; what is whispered in your ear, proclaim from the roofs." Jesus himself was aware that he was whispering in the dark during his own ministry.

Jesus' goal on earth was never to evangelize the nations himself. In deed, his ministry was quite localized and relatively brief. Rather, his goal was to prepare a small group of followers and equip them with the "words of eternal life" and the Holy Spirit so that they were prepared to go to the nations after he had purchased salvation for the world. This is why Jesus kept his followers few enough, his teachings hard enough, and his identity vague enough that the cross would become a reality.

And now for someone completely different . . .

jared@redeemeromaha.org (Jared) — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 10:28:00 +0000

Hello everybody,

It has been a distinct pleasure following and interacting with the folks here at Christians in Context, so it was no small surprise to be invited on as a guest blogger recently. . . and by that I mean it was a huge surprise, in case I'm using my words not good. My name is Jared Totten and I'll be pestering you with a few of my thoughts over the next couple months.

Sooo, a little about me: I am first and foremost a sinner saved by grace through faith in Jesus Christ, his work on the cross, and his power over death in resurrection. Lest that sound trite, I am not worthy of it (by definition or experience) and do not reflect adequate glory to God for it. Truth be told, I am a pretty pathetic "little Christ" much of the time, and ask to be reminded every so often if I start sounding inflated in the head. Even so, I press on with faltering steps to honor him who loved me while I was still an enemy and fully involved in seeking my own glory.

Omaha, Nebraska is home. I moved here in 2000 to attend Grace University (I later graduated). I started a rock band here (I later quit). I met my wife-to-be here (I later married her, but I guess that was self-explanatory). I am a worship leader at a young church plant here. I am a brand new father of a baby girl. I am an avid reader and occasionally even grasp what I'm reading. I am a bard/poet/warrior. OK, that last one isn't real . . . yet, but if it can occur vicariously through what I read, it will happen soon enough. C'mon literary osmosis.

I've been asked to join the CiC community to fill a void here. I can only assume that would be the void of people reading more than they can take in, writing poorly, and occasionally drooling on themselves when they nap. I do love to read (and nap). My book-purchasing abilities currently outpace my book-reading abilities. I will be posting on my ongoing struggle to bring these two entities into balance. That means book reviews.

My weaknesses are bacon cheeseburgers, Star Wars lore, football, a good rock show, coffee with cream and sugar, new book smell, movies that make you think, movies that make you stupid, theological discussions, microbreweries, John Piper, and new socks. Side note: on no other list anywhere will you find John Piper sandwiched between those two items.

Don't worry. I'm not always this ADHD (undiagnosed as of yet). But I must stop now because I have too much left to say. Oh yeah. I love irony, too.

Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. - Hebrews 10:23,24

John Dickson on Martin Hengel

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Faris) — Tue, 14 Jul 2009 22:00:00 +0000

By now you've probably heard that Martin Hengel died last week. Some will not appreciate the significance of Dr. Hengel in the world of NT studies. For that matter most of us probably won't simply because it is almost hard to overestimate how important his work is.

John Dickson has a post up on Koinonia that recounts his time interviewing Dr. Hengel not long before he died. I highly recommend Dickson's account. It is both a helpful introduction to Dr. Hengel the Scholar and Martin Hengel the Man. Not that I ever knew him, but Dickson's account comports with something Clint Arnold (who studied with Hengel some at Tubingen) once told me in a Talbot class, namely that despite not being evangelical, he had the heart and piety of an evangelical in many respects. He was no cold, stiff scholar who sat around endlessly critiquing.

And for this wannabe scholar, that sort of thing is both encouraging and inspiring. Do go read Dickson's piece.

Why We Should Read the Pope

noreply@blogger.com (Ian Clausen) — Tue, 14 Jul 2009 08:04:00 +0000

I'm usually very appreciative of the thoughts of NY Times columnist Ross Douthat. His recent entry makes no exception: 'The Audacity of the Pope' is a great slap in the face to those dismissive of Pope Benedict's recent encyclical Caritas in Veritate, and a great exhortation to those of us who didn't care to give the Pope any thought at all.

The call to explode 'Republican/Democrat' polarities is no new thing, but it is fascinating how stubborn and resilient many Americans can prove to be when it come to expressing themselves politically. Douthat is right to state the Pope isn't a conservative or a liberal. He's the Pope. To the extent that lets down American Catholics and religious leaders tells us more about them then it does about Pope Benedict.

Of course the rejoinder to this is all too easily imagined: how is the Pope in any sense 'politically relevant' if he's taking so many divisive positions? Douthat talks of the so-called 'transcendent politics' that many characterise the Pope as espousing. Classic line from modernity. Actually, one finds this talk often enough in historic Lutheran exegesis of Jesus' Sermon on the Mount. The point of labeling something as 'transcendent' is to dismiss or applaud it as idealist, otherworldly, etc. Whereas I should like to think - I pray Christians should like to think - that the Sermon on the Mount is a message for this world, not for some other one. It certainly needs to be interpreted; but it certainly is not suspended until we sort out our own problems. It cuts - now.

The Pope's encyclical is not the Sermon on the Mount. But it is the Pope's encyclical. And at the very least it teaches us that to 'transcend politics' is really to speak plain political sense, or at least to try. American evangelicals need to recognise this point: when we stop thinking through the Gospel, and start basing the terms of our political involvement in the prevailing ethos of the modern liberal state, we give it up. We surrender the political message of the Gospel. We subsume under political categories. We cease to be witness.

In this vein, it should make no sense for any evangelical to call herself 'personally' Christian but 'politically' conservative, or 'politically' Republican. The presumed translation from Christian to conservative just does not occur, either historically or today. What is the most determinative reality of your existence? Whom do you call Lord? Evangelicals have the language to see this point through: we wax eloquent of giving our all to God, of surrendering our money, job, family, our very lives. I say, no less for politics! Let the impracticalities of the Gospel be voiced! We do not control history; God controls history. What it then looks like to live in a society that does not honour the Gospel is, not to silence it, but to hold steadfast to it. Our most determinative allegiance belongs to nothing else.

So let's read the Pope. Let's disagree with him. Let's declare Amen. But let's not miss out on what he has to teach us. The battle is too fierce to mistake friend for enemy.

Carl Versus Karl

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Faris) — Tue, 14 Jul 2009 05:47:00 +0000

Randy Alcorn has a great little post on Carl F. H. Henry. Easily the most interesting part is a section from Henry's autobiography about a question he asked Barth during a public Q & A. Here is the lead-up and the question:

Christianity Today

Washington Post, Washington Star

You'll have to read the whole thing to get Barth's response.

Suffering: An Expression of our Deepest Desire

norm@christiansincontext.org (Norman Jeune III) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 10:00:00 +0000

The title sounds much more ambitious than anything I could hope to definitively assert here, but since I have been pressed lately to offer some of my thoughts on this issue, I thought I would share part of my attempt to grapple with suffering. After one particular person I know (who will remain unnamed) asked me about how I make sense of both the goodness of God and the presence of suffering in this world, it occurred to me that I don't think you can truly make sense of suffering outside of Christianity. Now, let me clarify; one can certainly derive a number of possible explanations to account for the presence of suffering in this world and not be a Christian; I won't argue that. But what I am inclined to assert is that you cannot offer an account for suffering, outside of a Christian framework, without ultimately celebrating what the Christian would call the essence of human frailty and futility. Additionally, allow me to suggest that any account of suffering begins, first, anthropologically. Are the inclinations of man essentially good or bad, and how does this provide us with a starting point, to account for suffering in this world?

In order to set this up, allow me to offer some of the premises or presuppositions I'm working from. First, I would say that, ultimately, all sinful acts are an expression of our (mankind's) root desire to control our destiny; to control our circumstances; to have the final say; to be sovereign over the course of our lives; to be like God himself. Man's fall into sin in the early chapters of Genesis is the first and defining account of that reality. The second guiding premise here is that in cases where suffering occurs, one is either exacting suffering on others, or, one is enduring suffering as the circumstances of life press in. Now, in either of these cases, I want to suggest further, that without the Christian notion of total surrender to God, death to self, and the all the personal implications that come with it, that all possible participations in instances of suffering, whether active initiators on one hand or passive victims on the other, are, in a central way, ultimately expressions or exacerbations of the sin nature. Kind of like two sides of the same coin.

Now let's try to simplify this. In an example where one is the cause for suffering exacted on others, this is wrong obviously because of the ethical/moral implications of doing wrong to another. But it is also an expression of man's deepest problem; the unwillingness to surrender all to God himself, as Lord of all. We're quickly taken back to the garden, where man thinks he knows best for himself, wanting to be like God, having control of things. Greed and self-will have taken over. It is a clear echo of what happened with the fall of man.

But, let's also look at the second example, where one is experiencing suffering (As I said before, all the examples up to this point are cases where the Christian notion of God is rejected). In this case it seems a person is going to react in one of two ways as a response to suffering. On the one hand, a person might lose hope, lapsing into total despair and loss in the face of suffering, or two, the person will bear up under the pressure of suffering, becoming more able to endure the things that life throws at them. The key here is that most of the time our inclination is to empathize with the first example, while celebrating the second example as that which makes man great.

Allow me to clarify by reiterating a possible explanation for all three:

1.In the first case, where one exacts suffering, the explanation is the simple avarice of man. This is a case where I think we can all agree that wrong has occurred.

2.The second case is a simple loss of hope; it is the incapacity to look beyond what one can accomplish on one's own. This is the culmination of the total loss or absence of faith; one cannot see beyond what one cannot accomplish, and so this too is incompatible with faithful surrender to God.

3. The third example is a bit more difficult to discern than the others; it is the case where one learns to endure pain and suffering, persevering over what life throws at them. Typically strength and perseverance in the face of adversity is what man celebrates most in humankind. The question is whether or not this is in fact something to celebrate? Let me suggest that this may be nothing more than a case where the sin nature is actually celebrated, perhaps inadvertantly or self-deceptively, in the highest sense. It is the very antithesis of surrender to the lordship of God the father. It is one of man's greatest expressions of the will; the equal and opposite expression of the avarice of man in the face of God. We've all heard that echo in culture; 'Nothing can keep me down!', 'I will do it no matter what life has to throw at me!', 'I will continue no matter what-nothing will stop me!' "No one will deny me of this thing I want!'. It is the quintessential expression of the self-willing of man. The individualism and perogative of man, even in the midst of suffering, may be the deepest expression of man's problem before God. It is ultimately the failure to turn to God in the midst of one's deepest loss and grief.

Now this is where anthropology is central. If I believe that man is essentially good, then the best I can do to account for suffering is to suggest that we must persevere in all circumstances; suffering will come; we are victims, subject to the whims of chance, or worse, the psychological and genetic dysfunction of those who lack the intrinsic good of man. This, in my opinion, leaves several questions open; where does evil and suffering originate from? Is there some type of "evil" gene? A genetic mutation that we can identify as the original cause of evil behavior in man? Also, where do our ethical notions derive from?

Now, in the second case, if I believe that man is essentially tainted with a bent toward evil, or sin if your willing to use the term, then not only can I make sense of various examples of suffering as expressions of the same essential thing, but the Christian framework also points the way forward as the notion of death to self, and surrender to God. Admittedly, this does allow us to take particular instances of suffering and tease out the what and why of every scenario where suffering occurs, but perhaps this should give us pause to consider the possibility that perhaps man as whole insists on the presence of evil in this world as we strive and compete to have our will be done on earth, as we envision our own personal heaven.

Ultimately, this shifts the core questions away from those that ask why God does not allow only good things to happen in this world, and turns them back to questions asking why mankind as a whole chooses to perpetuate a world in which his deepest prerogative perpetuates the very evil we claim to detest so deeply.

Deconstructing Bruno - A Guest Post by Christopher Faris

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Faris) — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 18:35:00 +0000

The following is a guest post from my older brother, Christopher Faris.

Have you ever met a Mexican? If not, here's what to expect: Mexicans are lazy and uneducated. All of the males make cat-calls at white girls while drinking Corona's like triathletes drink water. The majority of adult males are day laborers who sit on the corner by Home Depot. All Mexicans are illegal, especially in California, and all of their children are in gangs (it's a genetic thing). I even hear that some are firing pistols straight out of the womb. All female Mexican teens get pregnant before graduating high school and they all wear crazy eye liner with teardrop tattoos. Adult Mexican women wear fluffy dresses with the colors of Mexico (I know because I saw it at a restaurant that serves Mexican food). And all Mexicans keep Tapatio bottles in their back pockets next to their wallets.

Yup, that's exactly what all Mexicans are like.

Or maybe not. But if you don't regularly converse with different ethnic, religious, or other cultural groups, you may start to believe what you see on TV or hear from your friends who watched that one movie that totally nailed it. Like Saved! for evangelicals, Crash for Los Angeles, or Reno: 911 for cops.

Or like Borat for Kazakhstanis.

Which brings me to Sacha Baron-Cohen. If you don't know the name, he is the guy responsible not only for Borat, but for Ali-G and Bruno. Baron-Cohen popularized these 3 alter egos on his hilariously offensive, biting, and painfully watchable TV "sereez" on HBO called Da Ali-G Show. The Bruno movie opened last night, and frankly, I'm eager to see it.

Borat's legitimate point was overshadowed by its relentless mission to cross the line. I haven't seen it yet, but based on early reviews I expect Bruno to go even farther. Either way, it's worth considering Bruno the character for a moment.

Sacha Baron-Cohen's characters work because they stand on the building blocks of assumption. Consider the aforementioned 3 alter egos. Borat represents what Westerners assume to be a foreigner: gleeful to be in America yet blissfully unaware of cultural norms. He is smelly (while in character, Baron-Cohen reportedly did not shower or use deodorant for extended periods of time), he has a thick mustache, and he frequently mispronounces common words. Ali-G is a crass, walking hip hop cliché with something like a southern drawl-gone-British accent. He throws up gang signs during interviews with esteemed world leaders and uses hilariously concocted slang words such as "respek." Ali-G is hip-hop culture according to the assumptions of an older generation.

And now Baron-Cohen has given us a feature length version of the 3rd of his alter egos: Bruno.

If you spend your time in a community where conversing with openly gay people is rare to non-existent, you are in Baron-Cohen's crosshairs. His goal is to hold a mirror to your face and show you just how ridiculous your gay stereotypes are by embodying the stereotype itself. Many assume that all homosexual males are obsessed with fashion and phallic symbols and talk with ridiculous lisps. Plenty of films and tv shows reinforce the stereotype. How any romantic comedies exploit the awkward, gay "drama queen" who is boisterous and all too in tune with what women want?

So if you are from the Castro, seeing Bruno on the street may be no big deal. But if you encountered him in, as Bruno says on Da Ali-G Show, "the gayest state in America - ALABAMA!" your reaction may be quite different.

And that is why the character works so well. Our own conceptions of homosexuals today may vary widely, but without actually spending time with anyone who openly identifies as gay or lesbian we can be suckered into believing that Bruno is the homosexual poster child the same way a Latino dude with a shaved head and a mustache is an 18th street gang member.

The trouble is, Sacha Baron-Cohen falls into his own trap, and it dupes both his fans and the casual movie going audience: he is often caricaturing his targets in the same way his targets caricature him.

Take the scene from the trailer where Bruno is awkwardly sitting with hunters around a campfire and makes a gut-busting Sex and the City reference. As I watched the hunters' reactions, I even found myself thinking "dumb hicks- what part of the Midwest are they from?" And this is exactly the point: as much as he wants to shake America's perception of the homosexual community by presenting such a ridiculously over the top gay caricature, he shows almost equally over the top examples of the cultural groups he aims to humiliate. And that gets us nowhere.

I know Baron Cohen and director Larry Charles have a disdain for my culture - white Christian male. Over the past several years, I have felt that disdain and turned it inwards on myself. I feel a little dirty just typing the words "white Christian male." But it's true of how I identify. It makes me wonder: as much as I am being preached at to be tolerant of others, why are others so rarely tolerant of me? Could it have anything to do with the conclusions about white male Christians that Baron-Cohen forces his viewers to draw?

I still am eager to see Bruno. I think Baron-Cohen is a brilliant improviser and hilarious comedian. His comments on American culture are often convicting. I anticipate squirming both for reason of embarrassment and disgust. And yes, I realize that in these outlandish acts, the man is interacting with real people. Real people who really say and really do all the stuff on camera, which means there are real examples of Baron-Cohen's targets. But as I've argued, Bruno takes the extremes from his interviews and casts them as normal, thereby caricaturing and stereotyping whole groups of people on a few edited interview pieces.

Those who think that Baron-Cohen is simply out to shock are missing the point: Bruno isn't going to be funny or engrossing based only on hilariously flamboyant outfits or new catchphrases. Just like with Borat and Ali-G, the impact is in the underlying message that for all our posturing about being in touch with ourselves and the world around us, we really aren't that in touch at all.

It's a message Sacha Baron-Cohen may need to consider for himself.

Kierkegaard: Existence is Motion

noreply@blogger.com (Ian Clausen) — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 23:05:00 +0000

Most undergraduate philosophy textbooks do away with S. Kierkegaard by a singularly modern curse, the 'f-' word; namely, the word 'fideism.' What grave injustice. Such epistemic pretensions elicit my disdain. They also do great violence to a great thinker, whom I believe still has much to teach us - that is, those who care to listen.

In Works of Love, reflecting on 1 Cor. 13.7 ('love...believes all things'), SK writes:

'...knowledge per se is impersonal and must be communicated impersonally. Knowledge places everything in the category of possibility, and to the extent that it is in possibility it is outside the reality of existence. The individual first of all begins his life with ergo, with faith....[W]hen a man's knowledge has placed contrasting possibilities in equilibrium and he wants or has to judge, then what he believes in becomes apparent, who he is, whether he is mistrustful or loving' (218)*

We begin our life with ergo, with faith. SK provides a wonderful illustration of what this means. He writes,

'Truly, it is not knowledge which defiles a man, far from it. Knowledge is like the sheerest transparency, precisely the most perfect and purest, like the purest water, which has no taste at all. The magistrate is not defiled because he knows more about the plots than the criminal. No, knowledge does not defile a man; it is mistrust which defiles a man's knowledge just as love purifies it' (220)

That is, knowledge in itself is objective; man is not. Man is subject, not object. He takes into himself knowledge as he drains into his body liquid. In so doing he is not passive. He thirsts. He sees. He fills. He grasps. He swallows. All verbs, motions, actions, participations. A world is out there and he is in it. Man is implicated. He is creatura.

Yet so long as knowledge remains outside us, it remains 'outside the reality of existence.' That is, it remains outside the reality of our existence. For example, God is, apart from us. He exists, apart from us. But the knowledge that He exists is not knowledge that is in the reality of existence apart from us. He is the ground of our existence and our knowledge. But ground is not ground of anything lest on that ground stands something. To bring knowledge into reality therefore requires motion. That motion is faith, which is the ergo after knowledge.

Thus to exist is to move; and to move is to exercise faith. Existence entails faith, says SK. That is why he may say the following,

'To believe nothing is right on the border where believing evil begins; the good is the object of faith, and therefore one who believes nothing begins to believe evil. To believe nothing is the beginning of being evil, for it shows that one has no good in him, since faith is precisely the good in a man, which does not come through great knowledge, nor need it be lacking because knowledge is meagre' (220)

To believe in nothing is (as I interpret it) to cease motion. It is to stop moving, therefore it is to tend toward non-existence. For existence is motion. It is subjectivity in objectivity. To believe in nothing is to cease as a subject, and to join knowledge in suspension, in non-reality. Thus in true Augustinian colours SK holds that evil is privation of good. It is nothingness, non-existence. It is motionlessness. It is faithlessness.

But not all faith is good faith. Faith may purchase the wrong thing. It may purchase the lesser good instead of the supreme good [summum bonum]. Cut off from the supreme good, this faith cannot and will not survive. It is misplaced faith. But it is not motionless; no, it is not dead yet.

We leave out discussions of 'love' for another time. But let us round the corner back to the f-word, fideism. So much presumption lies in this word. It presumes, firstly, intellectualism; that is, it presumes certain truths about human nature, all of which SK denies, viz. that man may know apart from volition, apart from movement. To SK this objectifies man, and pitches him out of existence. It dissolves his subjectivity and obscures his creatureliness. It removes him from the actions that make his life a life. We may not follow SK through to all of the conclusions he has hitherto surmised. But we surely do not want to overlook, thanks to our philosophy books, what important questions he raises concerning what it is to be human.

*SK, (1962), Works of Love. Trans. Howard and Edna Long. NY: Harper Torchbooks.

When Athens Met Jerusalem

norm@christiansincontext.org (Norman Jeune III) — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 22:28:00 +0000

Well, I wanted to share another book recommendation with our readers. IVP just recently released Dr. John Mark Reynolds' new book, "When Athens Met Jerusalem: An introduction to Classical and Christian Thought." I'm far enough into the book now where I felt it would be helpful to share a few of my thoughts.

First, Dr. Reynolds does an excellent job of placing ideas, figures, and texts within their historical ideological context; I like to think of it as a history of worldview development, based on the efforts of man to describe the fundamental nature of this world. For example, in the early pages of the book, Dr. Reynolds gives a basic description of the role that Homer's Iliad and the Odyessey played in ancient society toward shapinig the overall worldview for the average person; He later goes on to describe how the first philosophers, and their attempts at "natural science" impinged on, or provided the catalyst for growth beyond that view and so on, as historical narrative develops. Now, not only is this narrative portrayal of the development of these ideas interesting, but it also provides a readily accesible introduction to some of these classical ideas, which is important for someone who might be interested to learn more, but who is not sure where best to begin. It's one thing to read an introductory text which gives you the raw description or definition of a particular text or figure, but it's another task entirely to do a good job taking these bits of ancient history, and provide a description that makes ideas, figures, and texts come alive in their original context; Dr. Reynolds does the latter.

Ultimately, in developing this narrative, Dr. Reynolds not only seeks to provide a narrative description of the development of these ideas, but he also wants to highlight the influence of classical thought on the development of Christianity, while also arguing that the loss of this clasical influence in modern Christianity has been detrimental. Definitely an intriguing read; check it out!

The Gospel About Jesus Christ

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Faris) — Sat, 04 Jul 2009 19:07:00 +0000

Mark 1:1 says this: "The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God."

It is almost certain that the first "of" should be taken as objective (i.e. "the good news about Jesus", not "the good news from Jesus", which would be subjective). I will take the point for granted here- challenge me in the meta if you disagree.

This means at least two things:

Mark's book is about Jesus.
Mark's book is not about you.

Since we believe that the Bible is authoritative, we are encouraged to read it always with a view to personal application. We know that we should be reorganizing our lives according to what Scripture says, so we faithfully read our Bibles in the morning and ask, "How do I apply this to my life?"

At a basic level, that is a good question. I encourage it and I practice it myself. But that is often an easier question to answer when we read the Epistles than when we read the Gospels. The command to always be edifying in Ephesians 4 directly challenges what comes out of our mouths. "How do I apply this to my life?" is a simple question: I need to always be edifying!

But then we read the stories of healing in the Gospels and think, "OK, so Jesus can heal. That's nice. I'll pray for healing." Then we get bored when the Evangelist piles up a few stories in a row on the subject. We can think of no other application, so we skim until we get to some of Jesus' teaching, since that is easier to know how to apply.

All of this is why we need to remember that the Gospels, as Mark makes clear, are not about us. The application question can mislead us to always be looking for ourselves in the text.

But the Gospels aren't about us.
The Gospels are about Jesus.

So as you work through the Gospels, ask "What does this text teach me about Jesus?" The practical benefits will almost always fall into place when we do this, because quite simply, when we get Jesus right, we'll get our lives right.

For all of its good, the application question can also be symptomatic of the cultural value on the self. Focus on Jesus, brothers and sisters! Mark tells you that Jesus is his subject. He should be yours too. Fix your eyes on our Lord, and be amazed at how easy the application comes along.

So Simple the Act, So Hard the Undoing

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Faris) — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 19:24:00 +0000

I've started listening through Carson's sermons/lectures on temptation that JT pointed out on Saturday. No comment yet on the overall quality, but Dr. Don had this quote about Adam and Eve's initial sin in the Garden: "So simple the act, so hard the undoing. God Himself will taste poverty and death before 'Take and Eat' become verbs of salvation."

I just thought the quote was too good not to pass on. And to be clear, he says he is quoting someone else, but he doesn't mention who specifically.

Calvin the Commentator

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Faris) — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 03:49:00 +0000

Nice post here from Mark Strauss on Koinonia about Calvin's legacy as not just a theologian, but a commentator. Here's Strauss's intro:

As the 500th birthday of John Calvin approaches (July 10th), theologians around the world will be reflecting on and celebrating this man's remarkable legacy. Calvin is perhaps best known for his Institutes of the Christian Religion, his magnum opus on Reformed Theology. Yet Calvin also wrote commentaries on almost every book in the Bible. For me, at least, these may be his most lasting legacy. Calvin embodied through his life, ministry and scholarship the spirit of sola scriptura.

I sympathize with Strauss. Not that the Institutes is anything less than amazing, but as a guy who leans toward exegesis, I love his commentaries. They are almost always useful, and for older commentators especially, it is remarkable how he models and anticipates historical-grammatical exegesis with an eye to the whole biblical story and personal application all at the same time. They are consistently great. Heck, they don't call him the "Prince of Commentators" for nothing...

One more thing: should it come as any surprise that Calvin was such a masterful theologian when he spent that much time in the Bible? If we really do believe in sola scriptura, then we need to recognize that there is nothing more important for forming good theological conclusions than spending a lot of time thinking through the text itself. Theologians need to be rigorous in their exegesis before and at the same time as they do theology. Add to that his unwavering commitment to the Church, and it becomes clear that Calvin models truly Christian theology like few (if any!) others.

A New Release From IVP

norm@christiansincontext.org (Norman Jeune III) — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 06:03:00 +0000

IVP was kind enough to grace me with a copy of this interesting new commentary release on Romans, and 1st and 2nd Corinthians . I thoroughly love church history and it's always fun to read original texts (or at least good translations of original texts!)so this looks to be an interesting piece of reference material. I've spent some time thumbing through comments on various passages in Romans, and I was truly impressed by the translations of this ancient text. I must admit I expected the reading to feel a bit cumbersome, but I was surprised at how much this was not the case. This truly looks to be an example of translation work carefully done. I was also expecting to see many interpretations that seemed odd to modern sensibilities; such as rampant and elaborate allegory, for example. But from what I could see so far, that was not the case. The interpreter seemed to be quite careful and measured in his approach to the text. Here is the formal description of the text:

"Ambrosiaster ("Star of Ambrose") is the name given to the anonymous author of the earliest complete Latin commentary on the thirteen epistles of Paul. The commentaries were thought to have been written by Ambrose throughout the Middle Ages, but their authorship was challenged by Erasmus, whose arguments have proved decisive.

Here for the first time Ambrosiaster's commentaries on Romans and the Corinthian correspondence are made available in English, ably translated and edited by Gerald L. Bray.

The commentaries, which serve as important witnesses to pre-Vulgate Latin versions of Paul's epistles, are noteworthy in other respects as well. Ambrosiaster was a careful and thoughtful interpreter, with little use for allegory, though he employed typology judiciously. Writing during the pontificate of Damascus (366-384), he is a witness to Nicene orthodoxy and frequently comments on themes related to the Trinity, the consubstantiality of the Son, the problem of the unbelief of the Jews and the nature of human sinfulness. He had a keen eye for moral issues and often offers comments that reflect his knowledge of how the church had changed from the time of the apostles to his own day.

The commentary series offers a rich repository of insight into the thinking of pre-Reformation church leaders for the leaders and teachers of the church today."

Two Rough Accounts of Political Authority

noreply@blogger.com (Ian Clausen) — Sat, 27 Jun 2009 17:11:00 +0000

Two Moments to Think About:

1. In AD 312 Constantine I, Emperor of Rome, declared himself a Christian. Following decades of persecution Christianity by slow measure emerged as not only the accepted but the dominant and finally the official religion of the Roman Empire. The origin of 'Christendom' traces back to such, its perfection never realized, its dynamics rarely stabilized - but its legacy hardly disputed.

2. In AD 390 St. Ambrose, Bishop of Milan, threatened to excommunicate Emperor Theodosius I for his gratuitous rampage of ~7000 at Thessalonica. The ecclesial rebuke provoked an imperial response: 'with many tears and groans,' followed by much grovelling and penance, the Emperor made his plea to Ambrose to be re-admitted to the Eucharist. In the end he received mercy.

(1) and (2) - what happened here?

CONSTANTIANISM

There is a strong tradition that sees in (1) the beginnings or roots of a tragic circumstance: the Church, called to be an alternative community and polis, an outsider and witness, folds into dangerous dilution and collusion with the earthly powers from which she has been called. The term 'Constantianism' designates no particular moment or period, but expresses rather the unfortunate marriage between (in our terms) 'church and state' which theretofore was not the message of the earliest Christians, nor the cause or significance of the martyrs. The witness of the church is compromised to the extent that its involvement and investment in political 'earthly' power obscures its distinct and other-worldly ('eschatological') character of peace through powerlessness. Thus (2) marks a precarious manifestation of this tension: Ambrose is right to condemn; but how he receives Theodosius back is where problems could arise. By accepting Theodosius' penance, does Ambrose then extend the purview of his bishopric too far? Is the Bishop of Milan to have authority over the Emperor? What is the nature of this authority? What is its reach? These are some questions which 'Constantianism' necessarily evokes.

CHRISTENDOM

There is, on the other hand, at least a second tradition that sees some good in the occurrence of (1). It does not betray the martyrs that Constantine converts, or that Christendom is established, but in fact it takes the witness of the martyrs seriously: it stops Rome's violence (over time), and it encourages earthly peace. This 'earthly peace' is not heavenly peace, but is peace as a form of 'witness' itself - a witness to everlasting peace, to the eternal rule of Christ, and therefore to the present hope of the Church whilst she sojourns to her homeland. In this sense Christendom acts as a constant reminder of the provisional nature of political authority in the light of what True Authority stands over and above it. Note here a great caveat: the clergyman who takes this to mean he is the true authority falls into idolatry himself. The Church is differentiated not by any political absolutism but by her worship of God: she speaks to earthly authorities, working within political structures, to see both conform to a provisional self-understanding that allows for the Gospel to be preached politically. So (2) is a momentous occasion: it is right judgment expressed from the right vantage point, from the divine law (natural and evangelical) of the One True God. There is no doubt danger in such a pronouncement; no doubt temptation to take up further political authority; but it is danger and temptation implicit in these bonds, for the bonds of 'church and state' are always imperfect. Thus the charge of 'Constantianism' is true - true, that is, insofar as the Church fails to be faithful to her witness. Otherwise she is called to be in the world but not of it; preaching to government without pretending to be it; working through government without thereby worshiping it; helping with earthly peace without staking hopes in it.

So I present two accounts hastily drawn of where political theology might start. It is not an exhaustive portrait to be sure, but it gives us an (imperfect) idea of the issues we're dealing in. Some questions: what does God call us to be in the 21st-century, and how might our history and tradition teach us what this is? What is faithful Christian political theology in light of what God has revealed to us - in all its mistakes and triumphs - through the witness of the Church many ages since?

Piper on TV and Movies (With a Few Cautions of My Own)

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Faris) — Sat, 27 Jun 2009 01:00:00 +0000

I've noticed recently that one of the idols I find myself preaching against most regularly is the television. I'm pretty convinced that TV is mostly not good for Christians. There are some exceptions and some reasonable uses and all that, but in general, it doesn't help us much.

I sympathize with Piper:

Don’t waste your life

The time factor is huge to me. I am not close to as disciplined or godly as Piper. Don't get the impression that I'm claiming that. But given the incredible amount of worthless stuff on it, it is easy for me to say, "Why would I want to spend my time on that?"

Addiction to entertainment is a dangerous, dangerous thing, even if the entertainment doesn't contain explicitly sinful content. Christians have got to start thinking really seriously about our movie and t.v. intake.

Perhaps the one thing I would add to Piper's concerns is that in general I find that people who watch lots of movies and feel deeply moved by them tend to go watch more movies and keep feeling deeply moved, rather than do something about the issues that move them. My evidence for this is anecdotal and it is not true for everyone I know like this. My point is to urge real caution.

Read Piper's whole piece. It's helpful.

The Changing Tide of Public Opinion on Global Warming

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Faris) — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 15:59:00 +0000

Here are the two lead paragraphs from a WSJ article on the growing tide of skepticism about man-made ("anthropocentric" is the fifty-dollar word a friend taught me) global warming:

Read the whole thing, which cites the science community's backlash and the leveling off of global temperatures since 2001 (despite increasing carbon emissions) as major reasons why views are changing.

I have been skeptical of anthropocentric warming since seeing the compelling documentary, "The Great Global Warming Swindle". It is quite provocative and, if nothing else, trots out an impressive set of experts.

(HT: Jonathan Knaup)

Training Parrots to Call You "God"

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Faris) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 19:00:00 +0000

Funny stuff from Peter Leithart:

Seriously.

Jonathan Edwards, Arachnologist

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Faris) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 04:16:00 +0000

Fun fact: Jonathan Edwards was really into spiders (and not just ones that were dangling by a thread over hell...). Maybe you are reading this and saying to yourself, "That's old news, Andrew- you really didn't know that?" Well, no, I didn't. Not until I came across it in Marsden's biography, which I'm currently working through at a leisurely pace and, I should say, enjoying immensely.

Marsden tells it like this:

When he was sixteen or perhaps earlier, Edwards became fascinated with the behavior of spiders, one of the creatures with which New Englanders were constantly surrounded. During his senior year in college, at age seventeen, he wrote an engaging account of his observations. His admiration for spiders is apparent throughout. 'Of all insects,' he began, 'no one is more wonderful than the spider, especially with respect to their sagacity and admirable way of working.' (Marsden, 64)

Edwards tried to publish his work in Philosophical Transactions, the journal of the Royal Society in London. The Royal Society was devoted to "natural philosophy" (we call it "science," but as Marsden notes, science, theology, and philosophy were not seen in opposition then the way they are now, which the name of the discipline indicates). In Edwards' day, Isaac Newton himself still presided over it!

Unfortunately for Edwards, an English naturalist named Martin Lister had already covered the same ground, so he did in fact get published. But apparently Edwards' work was otherwise worthy. Pretty remarkable, if you ask me.

While I have posted on this just because I thought it was interesting (I have no grand theological point), I should follow Edwards' lead by making one theological corollary. For me it has always been easier to be amazed at the details of God's creation than the vastness of it. The universe is so massive that I find myself unable to grab any mental hold of it, which in turn makes it hard for me to be particularly moved.

But detail can be examined, and spiders are a good example. Like any creature, spiders have an incredibly small yet incredibly complex set of internal organs. Included are those that allow them to produce the material for webs. Further, God has given them not only the tools for web-making, but the requisite skills to use those tools.

The complexity of detail in all of this is absolutely mind-boggling to me. What a testament to the amazing detail-orientation of God's mind, and to the amazing provision that God makes for His creatures!

I have trouble putting together furniture from Ikea (granted, not the greatest instructions usually). God knows how to put together the inner workings of tiny insects. Talk about inscrutable knowledge. Jesus told us to consider the lilies of the field. Edwards apparently took that seriously (only with spiders), and we would do well to do the same.

What is Political Theology? Here's a Start.

noreply@blogger.com (Ian Clausen) — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 23:39:00 +0000

It is at once extraordinary encouragement and insufferable intimidation, when one happens upon some exceptionally executed conception of what is in these our modern times. I can do no better than to share it with you, then, with humble hopes that it may also serve as my point of departure for future commentary. From Professor Oliver O'Donovan (2005):

Christian political thought has also acquired a secondary value in the circumstances of our time, which may, however, be no less important: it has an apologetic force when addressed to a world where the intelligibility of political institutions and traditions is seriously threatened. Christian theology sheds light on institutions and traditions, to address a crisis that is more pressing on unbelievers than on believers; and so it also offers reasons to believe. In our days it is not religious believers that suffer a crisis of confidence. Believers did suffer a serious one two or three generations ago, and the results of that crisis in small church attendance and the de-Christianizing of institutions are still working themselves out around us. But that crisis was predicated by the presence of a rival confidence, a massive cultural certainty that united natural science, democratic politics, technology, and colonialism. Today this civilisational ice-shelf has broken up, and though some icebergs floating around are huge - natural science and technology, especially, drift on as though nothing has happened - they are not joined together anymore, nor joined to the land. The four great facts of the twentieth century that broke the certainty in pieces were two world wars, the reversal of European colonization, the threat of the nuclear destruction of the human race, and, most recently, the evidence of long-term ecological crisis. The master-narrative that was to have delivered us the crown of civilization has delivered us insuperable dangers. So Western civilization finds itself the heir of political institutions and traditions which it values without any clear idea why, or to what extent, it values them. Faced with decisions about their future development it has no way of telling what counts as improvement and what as subversion. It cannot tell where "straight ahead" lies, let alone whether it ought to keep on going there. The master-narrative has failed; and even its most recent revised edition, announced as "postmodern," which declares the collapse to be the glorious last chapter, and plurality to be the great unifying principle, merely stands to the failure as the angel in the famous Czech joke stands to his own constant failures of prediction: "It's all in the plan! Don't worry! It's all in the plan!"

Oliver O'Donovan (2005), The Ways of Judgment, pp. xii-xiii.

My apologies for length. However let this be, as I suggested, a point of departure toward some reflections on 'political theology' as it might be understood in late-modern societies. One question to ask is whether North American political institutions, and particularly the US, can in the same sense as Europe rediscover resources from the Christian political tradition which will render its 'values' intelligible. Or was America simply estranged from its inception?

Why Doesn't Anything Happen When I Read My Bible?

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Faris) — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 05:57:00 +0000

I'll admit it: as much as I love preaching, as much as love to read theology when I have some free time, and as much as I enjoy Biblical languages, I don't sit and just read the Bible as consistently as I should. My "quiet times" are only semi-regular.

There are probably a number of reasons for this, but one that I have consistently come back to is that most times I don't feel anything when I read my Bible. Nothing seems to change. I still fight my same old battles with lust, pride, selfishness, a foul mouth, and so on. "This is the Word of God," I tell myself, "so why don't I notice it doing its work in my life?" Why doesn't anything really happen when I read my Bible?

I was lamenting this to a close friend a couple weeks ago and he quickly responded with something that has been rolling around my mind ever since. He told me that expecting that kind of instant gratification comes more from our culture than from true Christian spirituality.

This is, by the way, a great reason to meet consistently with other godly people. Sometimes they say something that is really, really helpful.

The more I think about Jonathan's words, the more I realize two things. (1) I can be really dumb; (2) that advice agrees with the way a biblical view of Bible study specifically and sanctification more generally.

Think about Psalm 1: meditation on the Law was a day and night activity. Does that mean that the psalmist was in such depth of communion with God that he always felt the strange inner warmth of His presence as he read the Law? Doubtful. He was probably a normal person- that is, he was probably like you and me.

Again, consider Psalm 119: verse 11 says that when the Word of God is stored up in the psalmist's heart, then he will manage to avoid sin. He goes on and on about the need for meditation, for learning God's ways, for knowing His statutes inside and out. Do those sorts of things happen through good feelings one morning? Absolutely not.

I could pull plenty more biblical examples, but I choose instead to note that this fits more broadly with the fundamentals of spiritual growth. Nothing that truly contributes to our growth happens instantly. It is no wonder that we call Bible reading and prayer "spiritual disciplines." For these activities to make a difference in our lives, they require sustained consistency.

It also coincides with my Christian experience. Almost all of my greatest spiritual growth has been done over long periods of time. I'd venture a guess that your life isn't much different in this respect.

Clearly daily Bible reading should not be complete drudgery. That's not what I'm saying. I still like the Bible when I read it and I'm often encouraged by it right then and there. But "being encouraged" is not the same as having rapturously deep spiritual communion every time I crack the Book.

So what I am saying (or rather, what Jonathan said) is that we should never have a Googleized view of Bible reading- you type in your desire, and God responds with immediate results. We have to keep at it if we want to see things happen. We have to desire God today, and then again tomorrow, and then again the day after that. When we do that, then we'll see just how much God really is at work in us, to will and to work our sanctification for His good pleasure.

Let This Never Be Called Home

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Faris) — Thu, 18 Jun 2009 16:39:00 +0000

I preached at church on Sunday from 1 Pet. 1:13-21, which calls the believer to hope and to holiness (related, I'm sure).

The first imperative in Peter's epistle is simply "hope" (usually translated something like "Set your hope", which is a reasonable rendering) in v. 13. God commands us to "hope" just like He elsewhere calls us to avoid drunkenness, to love, to abstain from sexual immorality, or to pursue wisdom. When we don't hope, we disobey God.

Which got me thinking: how come I know so few Christians who really hope?

The answer, I think, has something to do with what we consider to be our home. It is too easy for American Christians to see ourselves as Americans just as much as Christians. My old Baptist church has an American flag hanging on one side of the stage, and the Christian flag (no comment) on the other. Nobody else sees the apparent contradiction?

This identity crisis is no doubt especially common in exactly these kinds of older denominational churches. Many of the senior saints have grown up in a milieu where Christianity is as American as baseball and apple pie. The only question was whether you were a Methodist, a Presbyterian, or a Baptist.

But 1 Peter is written to the "elect exiles" (1:1), and that name for Peter's audience resurfaces a couple times in the letter. An "exile" of course is a forced sojourn, a necessary ousting from one's real home. Clearly Peter means to remind us that we are all exiles until Jesus comes back and new-creates everything. Then we'll go home. But for now: exile.

For people who are suffering for their faith, it was probably easy to remember this. Perhaps the purpose in using the term "exile" was to remind them that one day they'd make it home (as opposed to reminding them that they weren't there qui). But for people who can have the nation's flag hanging right next to the one that apparently represents Christ, it's difficult to feel exiled.

Which also makes it harder to really hope. The potential martyrs, so far as I know, have always found great comfort in the book of Revelation. Comfortable Westerners by contrast find great fun in it, trying to figure out when everything will happen. Other than that, we're more interested in the parts of the Bible that tell us how to obtain blessings. The martyrs though: they hope for it, precisely because the victory of Jesus is their only hope.

So while I am exceedingly grateful that I am at little risk of really suffering for Christ, I wonder what we have to do to remind ourselves that we are exiles. That there is a home that we are citizens of, and it isn't here. That this land in which we sojourn has nothing for us. That, as Jon Foreman says, "This place where I live/may it never be called home."

When we do that, we'll hope. Let me finish by offering a few practical suggestions for how to cultivate these attitudes:

Better Late than Never I Suppose

noreply@blogger.com (Jeffrey Bruce) — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 07:00:00 +0000

A few weeks ago I got my shiny new American version of Tom Wright's book on justification. It has since garnered dust in my growing "books to read" pile. Therefore, in the hope that I'll actually read it, here's what I intend to do. Since bunches of bloggers have already weighed in on Wright's book, I plan on coming approaching it from a different angle. I'm going to read Wright's book in conjunction with Piper's book, and evaluate the strengths and weaknesses of each construal of justification. I hope to determine where the heart of the disagreement lies, and suggest some potential ways forward.

I think it's especially important that those of us in the Reformed camp listen to Wright with great care. Given the ruckus generated by his work, I'm surprised how often he is sympathetic to Reformed tradition. For example, listen to this interaction from a recent Q & A with Ben Witherington;

Q. You seem to argue that initial justification and final justification are on the same basis, but you also take seriously that there will be a judgment of human works, including the works of Christians. Are you saying that apostasy is possible for Christians, or do you take the more Reformed view that those who fall away were probably not Christians in the first place, being self-deceived?

A. The initial verdict is the true anticipation of the final one because God will complete the good work he has begun (Philippians 1). That doesn't lead Paul to a careless, oh-well-I'm-going-to-make-it-so-who-cares stance, because there is always the possibility that he is self-deceived and that having preached to others he himself will be a castaway (1 Cor 9). But I see that possibility as self-deception about genuine faith rather than faith today and apostasy tomorrow. Pastorally this may be a hard call for oneself and for others, which is why all the time the focus has to be away from oneself and towards God. Which is why the disciplines of scripture, sacrament and service to the poor are all vital...

I think Piper, Schreiner, and Calvin would each answer the question similarly. Wright clearly subscribes - in Witherington's words - to the "more Reformed view".

People get quite anxious over what Wright has said about justification. I understand some of the concern, and take issue with a number of points in his articulation of justification. However, statements like the following should caution us against fecklessly throwing Bishop Tom under the Pelagian bus. His work is far too thoughtful and complex to merit such a response.

A Marriage More Powerful than a Pixar Montage

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Faris) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 14:05:00 +0000

After I commented on UP the other day, I got this email from my Father-in-law, Kevan. Thought it was well worth passing on as a model for married brothers everywhere:

An Interview with Janee Noble (On Art and Christianity)

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Faris) — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 10:00:00 +0000

I do not doubt that I am not alone when I say that I like art, but I really wish that I understood it more. Most of us know how vast and incredible the heritage of Christian art is (let alone good art more generally), yet many of us feel quite lost when we view a piece. It is as if we are trying to read another language that we only know the most elementary basics of. "Sure, it's pretty, and I couldn't draw that- but what am I supposed to do with it?"

Enter Janee Noble. Janee is a good friend of mine and in artist in Southern California. She is a godly and thoughtful woman.

I am amazed at the two pieces above (click to enlarge). Her work really grabbed my attention when I noticed the print of Ezekiel eating the scroll (from Ezek. 3) in my ex-roommate/her boyfriend's bedroom. She has since also completed a carving of Cain killing Abel. So I asked her if I could interview her about her work and art in general, and her responses were really helpful. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did.

Janee, thanks so much for taking the time to teach us theo-dorks about art. Let me start by having you tell us about the medium you used for these pieces. What is it exactly, and what goes into producing them?

The medium is called printmaking. Printmaking can take on many forms but the particular one I used for these pieces is linoleum carving. The best comparison I can think of for linoleum carving is a giant stamp. Basically, you put the image you want to carve on the linoleum and you
spend countless hours wittling away at it with tiny little tools in order to keep all the detail.

How long did each piece take to create, from start to finish?

Each of these pieces took approximately 30 hours to carve from start to finish. Both pieces have areas of minute details that required caution and patience.

Tell us a little about the process, not in terms of physical creation, but in terms of what goes through your mind as an artist? Are you spending all your time simply thinking about details, or is there something, for lack of a better word, "deeper" that goes into it as well?

The process - mentally - of creating these images is really quite meditative. The carving is entirely manual and automatic, it doesn't require very much thought at all. So I get to spend my time thinking about the image that I'm carving or whatever else is on my mind. It is a time I
have used to unwind from the stress of the day or even just relax for a short time during the middle of the day. The time I spend thinking about the content of the image and reflecting on personal applications from the narrative create more passion in me about the subject of my image, this gives the final piece more "soul" if you will. So yes, there is "deeper" thinking that goes into these pieces than the thoughts about where to place my tools next.

Perhaps on a related note, what was the impetus for you to create these? Why did you decide to take up these subjects?

The first piece that I did (Ezekiel eating the scroll) was first a class assignment, although I went quite a bit above and beyond the requirement because I wanted to use the piece as a Christmas gift for my boyfriend, Greg. Greg had been writing an extensive paper on the passage in Ezekiel 3 where Ezekiel is commanded to eat the word of the Lord. He really enjoyed the paper and his research reading for the topic so I had been wanting to make him a piece for further reflection on the passage, so the linoleum carving assignment came at a perfect time.

The second piece (Cain killing Able) came from a similar purpose. I had greatly enjoyed making the first one and wanted to continue making more like it although I had been a little uncertain about what topic I should focus on next. During a trip to Italy in January 2009 Greg and I were quite taken with a painting and sculpture that depicted Cain killing Able as well as the lecture we heard about the pieces. It was something we talked about for some time after seeing the painting and sculpture and led to my decision to do my next carving on that topic. The second piece was also a secret from Greg and ended up being a birthday present for him several weeks after it was
finished.

On another related note, both of these images are very small sections derived and modified from larger scenes originally drafted by a wood carver named Albrect Durer.

I've read that, historically speaking, a lot of Christian art has been composed to function almost like graphic sermons- there is a main point that the piece wants the viewer to walk away with. Is there anything like that with these? Anything in particular you would want someone viewing these pieces to take away?

Yes, these pieces are definitely meant to serve as "graphic sermons". I would love for anyone who is interested in these passages to be able to look at and meditate on the meaning of these images for hours at a time. The same way we listen to sermons several times and think about them afterwards is the same function I would like for these pieces to serve. There is a great disconnect between the church at large and artists/artwork. I think one of the ways we as artists and art enthusiasts, or even just vaguely interested viewers, can help to repair this breach in art's function and acceptance in the church is to spend time allowing art a place in our thoughts and valuing it as we do other methods of meditating on Scripture.

When you are creating directly biblical art like this, what goes into your reading the source Scriptures as you prepare to work on the piece, and as you work on it?

Spending so much time meditating on shorter passages of Scripture really gives me time to think about what I should be understanding from each passage and how it applies to me personally. For example, with Cain killing Able the story was extremely familiar to me and had no shock
value, but the more I thought about the story and really how devastating it is, the more real it became to me. I was able to "feel" about the story in a way I never had before, and it gave knew meaning and insight to other passages that relate to it as well, such as Matthew 5:21-26.

For that matter, how has doing this work affected your reading of those texts now that you've finished it, if at all?

Being an artist type I have a hard time really grasping and meditating on things unless a have some sort of visual to keep in my mind. So spending so much time with these pieces has allowed me to not only delve deeper into these passages than I normally would from simply reading them, but it has allowed me to continually think and develop thoughts about these
passages. And when I see the images hanging on the wall in passing I am reminded of my feelings about the implications of the images in my own life, it's sort of like a quick check if I'm still trying to live out the word of God as it is spoken in the passages the images reflect.

Anything else you'd like to tell a bunch of theology nerds about these two pieces?

Seriously, take a piece of art that you enjoy, with blatant Christian themes or not, and spend at least an hour looking at it (obviously this would be better if you can be with the artwork in person). Think about why you enjoy the piece, and try to draw out some truths that
you find in it. Make some personal connections between the artwork and your faith. Maybe even make a connection between the piece and a particular passage and extract some well thought out connections between the piece of art and God's word. You will enjoy finding God's truth in
places you never would have thought to look before.

I myself have a print of the Ezekiel piece hanging up in my office at church, and I love it. It constantly reminds me of my need to be taking-in God's Word- to be "eating" it. If any of our readers would like a print of one of these, how could they get one?

The best way would be to contact my directly by email: janee.rose@hotmail.com. The dimensions of the pieces are: Ezekiel: 11.5" x 17.5" Cain/Able: 9" x 12" Prices will vary based on if you want a print by itself, a matted print, or a matted and framed print. Just for reference though a matted print would cost around $150.