Archive for category The Love of God

The Anthropocentric Aspect of Biblical Worship

Even now, even though I know there is more to godly worship than just praising God I had a hard time typing that header.

And it’s not just because it’s a mouthful. It’s because I’ve always bristled at anything that smacks of “humanism.” Having done so, I’ve often skirted around a God that often seems decidedly “humanistic.”

By that I mean that God is so “up with people” that there is much in His character and nature that should inform the way we think, feel, believe and, ultimately, worship.

For most of my life I have cultivated an exclusive, for lack of a better term, “praise-centric” view of discipleship. That regular attendance of corporate worship services were and are indicative of a deeper level of faith and commitment.

However, although there can exist a correlation between discipleship and corporate participation there is also often a sizable disconnect between the two. Let’s face it, it is not rare to see people who are corporately content while being compassionately challenged.

But the more I study the more I realize that true godly worship is not the spring-board into godly living but is more the result of it. And as a matter of fact, God doesn’t want worship to be the impetus of discipleship. In fact, for God, worship results from godly living.

To wit:

Jeremiah 7:5–7
5 “For if you truly amend your ways and your deeds, if you truly execute justice one with another, 6 if you do not oppress the sojourner, the fatherless, or the widow, or shed innocent blood in this place, and if you do not go after other gods to your own harm, 7 then I will let you dwell in this place, in the land that I gave of old to your fathers forever.

Amos 5:21–24
21 “I hate, I despise your feasts, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies.
22 Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and grain offerings, I will not accept them;
and the peace offerings of your fattened animals, I will not look upon them.
23 Take away from me the noise of your songs; to the melody of your harps I will not listen.
24 But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

Hosea 6:6
6 For I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.

Micah 6:6–8
6 “With what shall I come before the Lord, and bow myself before God on high?
Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old?
7 Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, with ten thousands of rivers of oil?
Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?”
8 He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?

This is just a sampling of passages that indicate what Marcus Borg insists is God’s stressing of justice over worship rather than vice-versa.

“Since God is just and the world belongs to God, worship cannot be separated from justice because worship or union with a God of justice empowers the worshiper for a life of Justice.”

Worship services cannot contain our love for God because it must be borne out in the way we interact with people. It must be evidenced by our cries for justice.

This idea would fuel the writings of Paul who tied in our ability to properly take communion with our relationships to others.

We have to be people who are concerned for the least of these. Who have a heart for the lost, forgotten and marginalized. Who love unconditionally and completely.
Who embody the presence of Christ and His wisdom.

We see, in the person of Jesus, God in the flesh. When we see the people that captured the heart of Jesus: the widow, the blind, the lame, the children. Then we see who we are to be in love with in this world.

Worship that sees itself inoculated or isolated from the heart of Christ is not true worship. Worship done in the absence of justice is not worship.

Worship that cares nothing for the heart of those hurting is not worship.

So, Jesus teaches us that the heart of true wisdom is to love God and love others. Completely and intertwined. Worship must be entered into with a heart and love for those you worship with.
It must be a result of a deeper love and commitment to the God of all people that sees itself lived out in their lives. In the muck and mire of broken people.

Brokenness

One of the most important books I have ever read is Gene Edward’s classic “A Tale of Three Kings.” It is a fictional account of Saul, David and Absalom.

As you recall in the OT story David had ample opportunity to kill Saul. But he refused because, regardless of Saul’s actions, he was still God’s anointed. In Edward’s retelling he fast-forwards to the time when Absalom is making his bid for David’s throne.

Again, David has the opportunity to kill Absalom but he resists because he does not know if God has anointed Absalom. And he refuses to live like Saul. The question David faced at the later point in his life during the conflict with Absalom was whether he would act as a David or as a Saul. Read this beautiful entry:

It is better I be defeated, even killed, than to learn the ways of…of a Saul, or the ways of an Absalom. The kingdom is not that valuable. Let him have it, if that be the Lord’s will. I repeat: I shall not learn the ways of either Sauls or Absaloms.

And now being an old man, I will add a word I might not have known then. Abishai, no man knows his own heart. I certainly do not know mine. Only God does. Shall I defend my little realm in the name of God? Shall I throw spears, and plot and divide…and kill men’s spirits if not their bodies…to protect my empire? I did not lift a finger to be made king. Nor to preserve a kingdom. Even the Kingdom of God! God put me here. It is not my responsibility to take, or keep authority. Do you not realize, it may be His will for these things to take place? I suspect that, if He chose, God could protect and keep the kingdom even now. After all, it is His kingdom.

The book was so foundational and pivotal for me in my early ministry because it taught me an important concept and virtue: brokenness.

I made a pledge to myself that, if God called me to minister, that I would do so with brokenness and humility. When I found myself floundering and even out of ministry over a decade ago now I renewed that commitment.

If there is one thing that I always endeavor to do is to be honest with where I am.

If I doubt then I express my doubt. Thomas did that and he was blessed.
If I wrestle with a thorn I confess it. Paul did that and he was a great evangelist.
If I hurt then I voice it. David did that and he was a man after God’s own heart.

One of the messages of Scripture is that of the brokenness of God’s chosen vessels. We minister best when we allow ourselves to be fragile, to be painfully honest with our shortcomings, to be real and transparent.

Sometimes, I struggle with that as the way to go. There is the possibility of being misunderstood. But my best ministry has always been through being real. Being me. A fallen man with a perfect Savior.

Yesterday I received some great affirmation in the power of brokenness to work and move. A friend who I greatly respect and admire told me that “people like me need pastors like you.” That meant a lot.

And then I received an unexpected email. About 18 months ago I did a blog where I recommended a musical artist. I talk about my musical tastes a lot on this blog and often point out album releases that I find compelling.

Yesterday, this one particular artist emailed me and said something to the effect that, although he has always tried to hold religious people at arms length, he saw something in my writings that led him to think that maybe that wasn’t the way to go.

I say all that to say this: God’s strength is made perfect in our weakness. It is through brokenness, humility and transparency that God’s light can most powerfully shine though us. And ultimately “in love’s service only the wounded servants can serve.”

And that is the only way I know how to minister. It’s good sometimes to know that in God’s hands that is more than enough.

Thoughts on Reconciliation: Introduction

Toward the end of last year I did a lengthy series on non-violence and Christianity. It received tremendous feedback and, although we did not reach complete agreement, the discussion was overwhelmingly civil and productive. Each of us that participated were stretched and challenged by the discussion.

Although there is more that I want to say on non-violence, I believe that my position is fairly well staked out. I am opposed to war and the idea that violence can be redemptive. Again, I realize I may be among the minority but I can argue and defend my position from a conservative and scholarly approach to Scripture.

However, that discussion led me further in my study on entrenched doctrines. For years I had questioned the nature of hell, salvation and God’s love. But I resisted any serious wrestling because I wasn’t ready to understand that maybe I was wrong. That maybe what we have taught and believed about salvation and hell relied on misinterpretations. But now, although I know there is a great amount of risk involved, I want to look at the nature of salvation, or soteriology.

I believe that now is a great time for a discussion such as this as I am encountering more and more people in the evangelical world wrestling with these issues.

Let me begin this study by using a paraphrase of the beginning of my nonviolence study. I am not a universalist. At least I don’t fall in the camp of what people traditionally view as universalism. My views and understandings are far more nuanced than that. Just as pacifism conveys a meaning that is misleading, so does universalism. Allow me to coin my own term: I am a Redemptive Reconciliationist.

Leading into this discussion let me make several clarifying comments as both a disclaimer and an establishment of common ground:

1. I believe in hell.
2. I believe that unrepented sins produce dire consequences.
3. I believe that God’s Sovereignty, His desire that no one should perish, and our free will are not incompatible.
4. I believe many passages that describe the horrors of hell are for believers who will be held accountable for how they engage the lost, the marginalized and the least of these.
5. I believe that God’s justice is bound up in His love.
6. I believe that a Redemptive Reconciliation approach is consistent with a conservative view of Scripture.

In the coming weeks I want us to look anew at the passages in scripture that deal with ideas such as eternity, heaven, hell, punishment, salvation, God’s love, and God’s justice. I will probably reserve this to Monday’s post. I ask several things of you in return:

1. Be civil as always. These are controversial ideas. But I am convinced that we can provide an atmosphere that we can discuss these with brotherly love.
2. Be open-minded to differing opinions. If you can’t handle a discussion on these matters then please skip over these entries.
3. Agree to disagree. Godly men and women can draw different conclusions.
4. Don’t mistake my posts as statements of certainty. I am working through this myself.
5. Please participate in the discussion. But limit it to the topic at hand. If we are discussing God’s love don’t jump ahead to a singular passage about hell.
6. Be patient with me as the moderator. I am on shaky ground.

I am not an academician. I hope that this will be an accessible discussion for us as we wrestle with some weighty topics. There are far loftier minds than mine that I will rely on including Gregory MacDonald, Thomas Talbott, Gerry Beauchemin, and Richard Beck. I also hope my long-time friend Jeff Richardson will be a leading voice in this discussion.

Linking to Philemon

I have benefited greatly from the community that has sprung up in my blog world. I love the comments and discussion that takes place here. However, I know that often I give rather than take.
I made the commitment that I would comment more on other blogs to spread the discussion elsewhere. But one thing I have noticed is that using an RSS reader, although time-saving, limits my comment frequency.
As a result I am making some changes to my link section. Those who blog frequently (can’t stress that enough) and are a part of the discussion here I am in the process of adding to my “community.” If you are not on there and would like to be a part of my “discussion family” let me know and I’ll add you. I’m not done because blogger is being finicky today so don’t be alarmed if I haven’t added you yet (and for the life of me I don’t understand why people use blogger instead of wordpress but that’s a different subject).
Here’s to continuing the discussion.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Our study this week is in the book of Philemon. By now, most of us know the story of Paul’s call to mercy and grace for the runaway slave, Onesimus.
But what jumped out at me this week was Paul’s greeting to Philemon. Paul greets him by extolling his faith and love. He even goes so far to say that “the hearts of the saints have been refreshed” because of the love of Philemon.

But wait, he’s a slave-holder. Now, I don’t know about you but owning a slave is fairly high up on my moral reprehensibility chart. It’s up there with murder and blue-tooth in my book.
But Paul doesn’t define him as a slave-owner. Instead he views Philemon with all of his faults as his “beloved fellow worker.”
How often do we define people based upon their worst moments or greatest sins? How often is the way we look at people determined by their weakness or shortcomings.
But that is not the way of Christ. And Paul gets that.
So should we.

“The Epicenter Love Is The Pendulum Swinger”

Tracy remarked this morning about her interest in seeing where I swing from my current positions. When we met I was still in my rabid, dogmatic Republican days.
I was the former president of my local Young Republicans and still subscribed to all the conservative periodicals (Note: I’ve already discussed my journey to this point in this series. I don’t want to recount it now, but if you interested follow the link.)

Where I am at in my spiritual journey, I fear, looks just like that: a pendulum. And finding more in common on the political landscape with the Democratic party looks like I’ve swung between extremes. But I think that is a mistake and some clarification is in order:

First of all, my source of hope is not in a particular party. I have tremendous problems with the current leadership, but the answer is not in who sits across the aisle. I enjoy politics, but both parties are fallen in that they seek first their own interests. The GOP does not have a monopoly on God, and I can argue that much of what they view as being God-pleasing is nothing more than a distorted view of the Christ of Scripture. Conversely, the Dems have a history of marginalizing those of faith within their party. I see that shifting greatly but, ultimately, it too will fall short.

Secondly, my source of hope is not in the United States. I am blessed to live in this country. I love living here and I benefit greatly from what is America. But it is not the new Israel and my blessings in Christ are not geographical. Being in Christ, as Paul tells us, I have no borders, no nation above the Kingdom. That can be upsetting when we conflate the Kingdom and the nation-state. And I recognize that America is like all other powers of this world: fallen.

Third, I dispute the notion that the place to be is somewhere in the middle. That the desired location is some happy medium between two parties, picking and choosing the positions that best adhere to some muddled belief system.
No, I believe that the place that Jesus calls us to be is on the extremes, among the marginalized. Where the people are lost and forgotten. That true Christian living focuses first and foremost on love. That I view others not on whether they look, act or believe like me. But that I look upon others as children of God, my neighbor.

The answer is not, and can never be, political. Nor is the hope of this world whether or not we balance a budget, rid the world of terrorism or reach across the aisles.
The hope in this world is for the church of the Living God to be salt and light in a darkened, flavorless world.
To love our enemies, even when they want to kill us.
To turn the other cheek, even when it means we will get hurt.
To love unconditionally and sacrificially even when it means we will be taken advantage of.
To think first about others before we think about ourselves even if it means we don’t get ours.
To be like Christ even if it gets us killed.

So the answer is that I hope I don’t swing back to some moderate position. But that instead I will learn to follow Christ to the extremes, to where His children are. For the love of God is never moderate.

Just Some Food For Thought

From Thomas Talbott’s The Inescapable Love of God:

Suppose that Christ commanded that we love our enemies and love our neighbor even as we love ourselves because such love is an essential condition of blessedness or supreme happiness. If this is true, as I believe it is, then God could not possibly bring blessedness to one person without also bringing it to all.

Here is why. If I truly love my daughter even as I love myself, then her interests and my own are so tightly interwoven as to be logically inseparable: any good that befalls her is then a good that befalls me, and any evil that befalls her is likewise an evil that befalls me. I could never be happy, for example, knowing that my daughter is suffering or in a miserable condition–unless, of course, I could somehow believe that all will be well for her in the end. But if I cannot believe this, if I were to believe instead that she had been lost to me forever–even if I were to believe that, by her own will, she had made herself intolerably evil–my own happiness could never be complete. For I would always know what could have been, and I would always experience this as a terrible tragedy and an unacceptable loss, one for which no compensation is even conceivable. Is it any wonder, then, that Paul could say concerning his unbelieving brothers and sisters whom he loved so much: “For I could wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my people” (Romans 9:3)? From the perspective of his love, in other words, Paul’s own damnation would be no worse an evil, and no greater threat to his own happiness, than the eternal damnation of his loved ones would be.

God could make us “happy” whilst our loved ones suffered in hell only in two possible ways: either by concealing from us the magnitude of the tragedy (blissful ignorance), or by giving us a callous and stony heart, so that we no longer truly loved those who were lost. Both of these possibilities, however, are incompatible with true blessedness. So in the end, it is logically impossible for God to bring blessedness to one person without also bringing it to all

Love Is Not In A Vacuum

Tracy and I work hard to teach our children the values that we hold dear. That’s pretty difficult. They hear words from other people that we don’t want them to say. They learn things that we never taught them. They pick stuff up that we wish they wouldn’t. It’s the way of the world.

For example, I took two weeks off over the Christmas holidays. As it worked out we were in town both of those weeks. One night in the car, I asked Chloe where she wanted to go to church on Sunday.

Her answer was immediate, “I want to go to my church.”

I then tried to explain to her that when I am on vacation we don’t go to our home congregation. So she responded, “I don’t care. But it has to be a Church of Christ.”

That is not anything she has ever heard from us. But she got it somewhere.

I was raised in a loving family. My parents taught me the love of Christ from an early age. They have been the examples of unconditional love that has placed within me the desire to be a Christian, a minister, a loving husband and a father.

I am who I am because of them. And I owe them the deepest debt of gratitude for teaching me love.

But…I was not raised in a vacuum. I learned elsewhere that love, for most, was conditional.

I learned colorful terms for people who looked or acted differently.
I learned that “disfellowshipped” people should not be talked to if encountered in public places.
I learned to kick, hit, pinch and scream.

Home was a haven from all of that. It was where I truly began to see that there was more to love than what the world and far too often, the church, displayed. It wasn’t perfect, but it can’t be.

Here is part of an important realization: we can’t fully teach love. God IS love. And that’s way too big of a concept for us to ever comprehend. Let alone teach.

I will never get my mind around the love of God. It’s too big. I’ll always underestimate it.
I will never fully teach my children the love of God. It’s too vast. I’ll always undersell it.

That’s not failure. It’s just that I “see in a mirror dimly…I know in part” the love of God.”

But I must endeavor to teach my children to the fullness of my understanding. Just as my parents did.
And I hope and pray that through my life, my teaching, my example they see and touch the face of God.

For God IS love.

Confessions of an Unwitting Calvinist

I’ve always rejected the doctrine of Calvinism. Even before I knew what it truly was, I knew that I was against it. I just wasn’t a TULIP fan. A few years ago, I realized that I had never given the doctrine a fair shake. I knew many people who held to this idea of limited atonement and knew them to be sincere and committed Christians.
So, I committed to reading as much as I could from all perspectives. In the end, I rejected Calvinism yet again. God is sovereign, yes. But He is also a God of love.

What I’ve come to realize lately, however, is that I unwittingly adopted a form of Calvinism that held to a view that God HAD chosen certain people over others. In my view, I was one of those chosen. Some examples:

One of my best friends in 10th grade was a Presbyterian. However, my friendship with him was always marred by my realization that he was bound for hell unless I intervened in a forceful way. The error that would ultimately damn my 15 year old buddy? Instrumental music. What motivated my daily badgering of him until, finally, he broke down in tears and our friendship came to a bitter end, was that I was better than he was. God had smiled on me with His infinite knowledge and had given ME the proper understanding of truth. I was the chosen one.

Fast forward a few years to 1989 and I am a 21 year old idealist, recently emerged from a spiritually fallow period in my life. Billy Graham came to my home town for one of his crusades. At the time I was still working in the meat department at Kroger. One of my co-workers was a sweet woman who maintained her spiritual witness in the midst of a sometimes hostile environment. She was going to be one of the voices in the choir at the crusade. So, I went one night with a friend of mine to see what all the fuss was about. Graham preached a thundering message with a stirring altar call. Hundreds of people responded. My faith system told me, at the time, that every single person who went forward that night had done so for no reason. They were no closer to God than they had been before they got out of their bleacher seat. They might have wanted a relationship with Jesus but Jesus wasn’t there. I went home shaken with this belief. Could I really think that God was not moved by their limited understanding? My belief was that they needed someone like me to teach them the truth. For I was the chosen one, selected by God to have this gift of truth.

Over the last 16 years I have abandoned such a myopic view of God’s love for those in other denominations. But, sadly, I just exchanged it for an equally insidious view of God’s dispassionate relationship with others. That manifested itself in various forms:

America was the hope for the proliferation of Christianity. God needed the United States if His message was going to persevere.
The Republican Party was the mechanism for God’s redemption of America. By virtue of us being “right” on the important issues, God had chosen us to take America back. We were the elite of the elite, so to speak.

As a result, I believed God’s chosen must be protected at all costs. All of the Christian life was about “preserving” the values that I held dear. Therefore, I quantified everyone into either “us” or “them.” My enemies list was long: Democrats, liberals, immigrants, homosexuals, Muslims, abortionists, Catholics, minorities. And on and on.

I had developed my own form of Calvinism! Sure, we were all born depraved. But by virtue of God’s Sovereign (if not whimsical) election He had saved me by a grace that was evidenced in the fact that I was a white, middle-class, American raised in a conservative Christian home. And I must persevere amongst all the persecution that I must endure because of my special status as one of God’s favored.

And I wonder why my Christian witness has been compromised! Who wouldn’t respond to such moral superiority? Who wouldn’t want to know this God who has smiled so lavishly upon me?

But here is what I have realized: I have always, always, ALWAYS underestimated the love of God.
I have talked about the height, depth and width of His love while believing it is finite.

I have believed I was better than non-believers by virtue of my own moral luck.

But I’m not better than any one: Republicans, Democrats, liberals, immigrants, homosexuals, Muslims, abortionists, Catholics, minorities. And on and on.

But He is better. He is supreme. And His love is infinite, eternal and inescapable.

I repent of ever believing otherwise.

In the coming weeks, I will be talking more about the love of God and the implication for us.