The Righteousness of Faith According to Luther

I was reading something by H. J. Iwand, a German contemporary of Barth, entitled "The Righteousness of Faith According to Luther" and I came across something really profound. I want to try and share it with you, so I'm going to do my best in this post. All quotes are from Iwand, unless otherwise stated. Scripture quotations are from the ESV. So let's begin:

Sins that are interpreted as emanating from a person are really sins of action and constitute a knowledge of sin in terms of "thoughts, words, and deeds." Ultimately when people conceive of sin in this way, they are considering the "fruits" of sin which are mere symptoms of the true sin that is concealed behind them. With such a concept of sin, one is misled to consider all manner of sins without recognizing the true nature of the sickness. Furthermore, if one succeeds in repressing the symptoms, the sickness will attack from the inside. Any righteousness shown in this manner is really hypocrisy. In his natural despair--which, in the last analysis is a false one because the person is despairing only of the "appearance" of what he is--the person will not look at himself, but will always try to break free of the mistakes and weaknesses that tarnish the picture of the perfect human being to which that person aspires. He will try to cast off his sins and faults, but will remain the same even in the attempt.

Sin is not merely the bad things we do (or the good things we don't) but it is a state of being, a condition in which we are completely and hopelessly stuck. What we often call "sins" are just the results of this condition. Even if we are able to suppress these sins, we are still a sinner. In fact, if the symptoms are suppressed, the disease becomes even more dangerous, for we are likely to forget that we have this fatal disease at all and we stop relying on the healer. In fact, we never truly suppress the symptoms, we just put them in a form where they are difficult to recognize. Isaiah 64:6 says "all our righteous deeds are like a polluted garment." The works that we call good are actually sinful, for we do them not for God's sake, but for our own. They are almost always (and perhaps actually always) an attempt to justify ourselves, either before others or before God, rather than to receive justification from God.

Also, notice in the second-to-last sentence, that it is not God's standard of perfection that is being aspired to, but our own. Our standard is much different from God's standard, although we generally think that our standard is God's standard.

However, casting off one's sin is quite impossible. A person must first be destroyed because he is the person who holds out his own ideal of what is good, true, just, and godly. Such a person believes he needs to be directed to God only because of his incomplete, weak nature (as if the goal of perfection is not to need God!) he thinks that grace is only a stage; some kind of beneficent, helping gesture on God's part to help people to reach their own goal of perfection by means of his holy power, because they are simply not strong enough or perfect enough to do it on their own. If that is the case, then God would be merely a means to one's achieving one's own self-perfection. It is exactly this kind of person who uses God, but does not believe in him.

Our standard of the perfect human being is clearly stated in the fifth verse of Genesis 3: "when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil." We view human perfection as perfect divine knowledge, which brings with it perfect divine independence and perfect divine power. We really want to be "like God." The fact is we really aren't that interested in being human at all, we have always wanted to be more heavenly and less earthly. We want to ascend above our station, to become "more" than we were created to be. This is the essence of our rebellion. The fall is really an upward fall, not a downward one. It is not that we became too entrenched in earthly things, but rather that we abandoned our charge (see Genesis 1:28, 2:15) in order to storm heaven and position ourselves as gods. The life of faith, of relying on God for everything including our righteousness, is not a stopgap made necessary by the fall--rather it is the way things were always meant to be. We were designed to rely on God; the ideal of a perfect human who does it all himself is our own sinful machination.

This type of person would be happiest if he could do it alone--without God--since even his own mistakes irritate him because they show him that he is not God and that he is actually God's enemy and opponent. God's judgment stands firmly over against this person. He must be destroyed. His mistakes and weaknesses, however, must not be lightened too soon just so that they are easier for him to carry. In other words, our sins prompt us to seek mercy anew and in so doing they make clear to us that everything works for good for those who love God. For the reminder of God's mercy and the admonition that we always live in his mercy and are never in a position of not needing it--that is the best thing that the new person in us can encounter.

We need to know our place, to be content with being human and not aspire to be gods. The only way to do this is through the cross. The old person, the person above condemned by God, must be killed so that the new person can be raised in his place. (See Romans 6:6) As Luther puts it: "[God] makes us conform to himself and crucifies us, thus making real, that is, wretched and sinful men, out of unhappy and proud gods."

So, if the perfect human is not the god we want it to be, what, or perhaps who, is it? The answer is simple, if not easy: Jesus Christ (surprise, huh?) To free us from our attempt to be gods, God became human to show us what we were created to be. We were created to be earthly creatures, relying on God for everything, perfectly trusting that he is God for us, working everything for our good.

So what do you think?

Obedience...

Hey all, so this is a talk i'm doing tonight.

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“Obedience”

Hi everyone. Let me share a story about my childhood.

I was a mischievous little dude when I was younger, and I used to climb everything I could.

There was just something about getting above the ground, and I loved it. So when I became a pole-vaulter in high school this wasn’t a surprise.

But, when I was about 2ish I for some reason thought it would be fun to play in the downstairs sink.

So I climbed up a few boxes… and reached the sink.

Now the faucet in this sink was one of those kinds of faucets that sprays water everywhere at an ungodly speed.

And I probably thought this was the coolest thing ever… so I turned it on… full blast.

And like all kids, who are unconcerned about the effects of their actions… I let it be.

The problem was, my mom was upstairs… for a while… a really long while.

So long that the water filled the sink and started to pour over the counter and on the floor.

Now, I don’t have a clue where my brothers were… I have four of them, and they are all older than me. So you would have assumed they could have stopped what I began.

But, they were probably at a friend’s house, or maybe they thought this a natural occurrence… who knows?

Either way, when my mom finally made it down stairs, there was about two inches of standing water everywhere in the basement.

And the basement in my house isn’t small.

She scooped me up, splashed through the water to turned off the faucet and called my dad who was at work.

The conversation went something like, ‘Hi, Craig? … you need to come home.’

‘Uh, what’s wrong Anita?’

‘There’s water in the basement.’

‘Well, just get some towels and mop it up.’

‘No, you need to come home now… it’s everywhere and we don’t have enough towels.’

Soon, my mom told him what went down and he finally left work to come home and clean up.

I became the reason for the re-carpeting. It wasn’t until I was much older that I realized what a mess I had made; I always had thought growing up that it was just because they didn’t like the color. Woops.

Anyways, tonight I’m going to be speaking to you about Obedience.

So, I decided to go easy on myself and talk to you about obedience in the beginning of Acts 1

So lets read it: Read Acts 1:8-11 (Before I go any further I should tell you that Acts is the second half of Luke… Luke, Part 2, or like Luke’s p.s. at the end of a letter) – Continue…

Now, I said I would be going easy on myself because really what I want to talk to you about tonight is the idea of ‘following Jesus’

And if I am to talk to you about obedience in regards to ‘following Jesus’, basically what I am going to do is something like talking about literature in regards to Shakespeare.

Shakespeare wrote a lot of different things. Plays, Poetry, what have you. But all of them are forms of literature.

Following Jesus involves a lot of different things. But all of them are forms of obedience.

Jesus commands. We obey. That’s all there is to the Christian life. There’s nothing else to it.

Faith, love, prayer, service. Whatever. They’re all forms of obedience.

SO, ‘obedience’ is just a synonym for ‘following Jesus’

But anyone who tries to follow Jesus knows that we don’t always do what he tells us to do. We also reject him.

We don’t always love him. We also hate him at times.

We’re his friends, for sure. But we have also been his enemy at times.

Basically what I’m trying to get at is that, every moment of the Christian life is lived in either obedience or disobedience. There is no middle option.

To say it like a neurotic, but brilliant, and who I think is a most important writer—a guy named Søren Kierkegaard: ‘Our lives are governed by an inexorable (unpreventable) either-or – Either obedience or disobedience.’ These are the only options.

What he is saying is that there are no neutral zones in the Christian life. No empty spaces in our lives where Jesus’ command to obey doesn’t reach us.

Jesus’ command covers every little part of our lives.

Now when I say this, it probably makes you feel a little claustrophobic.

Maybe you hear it and are like me in saying, ‘Dang Jesus. Why don’t you relax a little? Chill out for a second. Come on, give me some space.’

Maybe Jesus makes you feel a bit like you do about tests.

No matter how much you like the subject matter, there’s always a part you, maybe a big part, that is happy to be done.

I can only speak for myself, but I admit that sometimes I just wish that Jesus would leave me alone.

I feel like the demands that he places on me are more than I can bear.

And for sure, they are more than I initially signed up for.

I grew up in a Christian home, with a lovely family. I was the youngest of 4 boys and I have the scars to prove it. Probably the most of them are internal.

But I actually became a Christian at summer camp when I was just entering middle school.

Think about this for a second. I became a Christian at camp… And this camp was like a resort for me. I played Ultimate Frisbee everyday. I could gorge myself with amazing food three times a day. And I could hang out with people who I thought were way cooler than me.

I had no idea what I was getting myself into. And the ideas that I did have about the Christian life were mostly wrong.

I became a Christian because I thought it was the best way to be happy, get what I wanted, or avoid pain and suffering.

At camp, they told me that if I had faith in Jesus, then he would give me life.

And that turned out to be true.

But what they didn’t tell me was that being a Christian didn’t make me impervious to the problems of the world.

The year after I became a Christian my mom almost died in a bicycle accident. A few years later was she diagnosed with breast cancer.

And then when I was a senior she almost died again. She went in for a hysterectomy and they nicked her rectum, which if that mistake wasn’t caught, she would’ve died within a week.

School before college wasn’t easy for me… to say the least.

I learned that that the life Jesus gives often feels like a living death.

And it feels like that because that’s exactly what it is!

Life with Jesus is a constant dying to oneself in obedience to him.

Let me say that again… Life with Jesus is a constant dying to oneself in obedience to him.

And it’s impossibly demanding!

It asks for things that you don’t have. And it claims more than you want to give.

And I’m not just speaking rhetorically.

Listen to how Jesus himself describes what it’s like to follow him.

In Luke, the same author of the previous passage we read. 14:26-27…

Now, Jesus isn’t saying necessarily that you are supposed to hate you parents, siblings, or children.

But in comparison to loving Jesus, it will seem as if you hate your family.

When many, if not most of us, hear this we’re inclined to think that it’s just a bit too much. I mean it’s overboard!

And we especially feel this way when we get tired of grinding out the Christian life.

We’re tempted to just… Give Up.

I thought about this so many times.

… Because the Christian life is really hard.

And we don’t see much progress.

We feel like we’re just banging our heads against a door.

And we’re tempted to think it would be easier to stop trying.

If you have ever felt that way, you need to hear what I’m about to say. Because it is God’s word for you.

You are not alone.

You are not the only one who has these kinds of thoughts.

And, it’s not just that other Christians feel like you do. They do, for sure.

But what I want you to hear tonight is that Jesus Christ himself knows how you feel.

He knows how hard it is to obey.

He knows because his whole life was one of total obedience to his Father.

Think about that. Our Lord – the one who commands us to obey – was himself a servant.

He knows what it’s like to struggle to respond obediently to the command of God.

He wrestled so much with obedience that he actually sweated blood before he took on the cross.

Now Jesus obeyed perfectly throughout his whole life, but we don’t.

I struggle with obedience all the time.

I could keep in better touch with my friends.

I could be less critical of myself.

I could be less lazy.

And when hard times come along in my life I could be less apathetic, more hopeful, and more loving.

But when things get really nasty in your life – you need to know this.

No matter how tired, empty, or disobedient you feel. You need to know that Jesus will not leave you or forsake you.

He will always be with you. No matter what.

But here’s the thing…

Jesus Christ is the Lord. And he can only be with you in one way.

As your Lord.

He can only share himself with you in one way – by becoming your God.

If you think about what I am saying for a second, you’ll realize that what I’m saying is just strange.

I’m saying that when we’re exhausted, Jesus gives us peace by freeing us and putting us to work.

It’s kind of like procrastination… something I’m horrible at.

In college I would wait to the last minute, staying up all night to finish a paper and I would find myself running, literally running, to class to get there on time, paper flapping in hand as I ran through campus.

It was a horrible habit of mine and I always exhausted myself trying to make up time that I had thrown away on things I thought more important.

It took all of college to realize that when I actually did the daily work of preparation and such that I wouldn’t be so anxious… in fact it felt good.

Strange.

Now when we’re anxious, Jesus calms us down by giving us something to do.

May it be faith, love, prayer, service. Or whatever.

I’m saying that Jesus showers us with Love by showering us with commands.

Because it’s as we obey him that we are joined to him and enjoy him.

It is as we submit to him that we are united to him and share in his life.

But the problem is that instead of seeing this as freedom, we often see it as slavery.

And like all slaves do, we dream of escape.

And so we do. We escape.

We begin to live as we please. To live as our own Lord.

But it doesn’t work.

We think, at times, that living as we please is a wide-open landscape. But, it turns out to be a dingy little prison.

It doesn’t make us happy. We develop an uncontrollable desire for more, and it makes us miserable.

But, for some reason we keep trying it out anyway.

Now, please, don’t let this sound pious or churchy. To most people, what I’m about to say is just insane.

Because if our culture is sure about one thing, it’s that freedom is having the means to live as you please.

But the Gospel tells us that living like Paris Hilton or Donald Trump isn’t freedom. It is imprisonment in the dungeon of our own little appetites.

From the standpoint of the Gospel, the good life isn’t freedom to cultivate and satisfy your every desire.

It is permission to stop obsessing about yourself.

That’s why Jesus’ statement in Acts 1:8 is so crucial.

Listen:

“But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you. And you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

“You will be my witnesses.” That’s a command. And it’s a command that contains the secret of the Christian Life.

By calling us to be His witnesses, Jesus is freeing us from a narrow obsession with our own little stories.

By calling us to point to him, he’s rescuing us from ourselves.

This is crucial to see.

When Jesus commands us to be his witnesses, he’s commanding us to tell his story. Not our personal stories.

And, he is definitely not calling us to point out what’s wrong with everyone else’s story, or even our own.

I mean come on; he’s calling us to be witnesses, not prosecuting attorneys or judges.

He is calling us to point away from ourselves to him.

Let me say that again… He is calling us to point away from ourselves to him.

And, that is something that anyone can do.

You don’t have to be an expert to do it. You don’t have to know the answers to all the questions that people might ask you about him.

And, you certainly don’t have to have your life under control.

Anyone can point to Jesus.

And that doesn’t mean that you go around with a billboard tied to your neck.

As monk by the name of Francis of Assisi once said, ‘preach the gospel always, and when necessary… use words’.

Which can come out in many ways. In Faith, Love, Prayer, Service.

And, We are called to love because Jesus loved us.

By loving others, we show gratitude for God’s love for us.

And anyone can respond with gratitude to the grace that he has shown us.

Jesus doesn’t want you to be a super-Christian.

He doesn’t want you to be an expert.

He just wants you to be you—The ordinary person that you are.

Someone who has experienced his grace and forgiveness and who now just wants to share it with others.

So, as you try to live as his obedient witnesses, remember that he has promised to strengthen you with the Holy Spirit.

And know, that even if you don’t obey Jesus at times… There is nothing that will exhaust the grace of God… Lets Pray:

A Definition of Sin

I came across a definition of sin (actually a definition of sinner, but one extends from the other) a while back that I've been mulling over for quite some time, and I want to hear what people think of it. It was long enough ago that I don't remember what book it was from, but I'm almost positive the author was Gerhard Forde. It went something like this: "a sinner, in the final analysis, is someone who fails to receive from God." So, I've been thinking of sin as failure to receive from God. Seems pretty straightforward.

The more I've thought about this definition of sin, the more I've come to like it. At first it seemed overly simplistic, or at least incomplete. It seemed to exclude a lot of things that I considered to be sin.

First, let's look at what is obviously included in this definition. In the section that this "quote" appears (as I remember it, anyway), Forde is talking about salvation as God's gift to us, and our tendency to refuse that gift and insist on doing it ourselves, or at least helping. This insistence on making salvation depend on something that we do* rather than what God has done is the essence of sin according to this definition. This seems strange when you really consider it, because the manifestations of this insistence (see footnote) are often exactly what we would list if we were asked to describe "holiness." It seems that sin is indistinguishable from holiness, at least from the outside.

But what about the inside? Can we at least make the distinction that these "good works" are sin when done with an ulterior motive, and holiness when done with pure motives? Well, what exactly would a pure motive be? Take tithing as an example. Obviously we would consider doing it for glory or influence to be an impure motive. What about doing it for the reward in heaven? Doesn't seem much different than doing it for a reward on earth. How about doing it to better the church which we attend? Well, that's also fairly self-centered, who's to say that my church is more deserving than another church? What about doing it to please God? That depends, what am I hoping to get out of it? If I'm hoping to gain favor or something, then I am really trying to manipulate God, which isn't much different than performing a ritual to coerce the spirits to my purposes. What about just doing it because I am told? Well, again, what do I hope to gain from my obedience? How about the satisfaction of knowing I did something good? Once again, I'm doing it ultimately for my own benefit. Even assuming we could agree on a pure motive, do you honestly believe that you could ever be completely free of any other motivation? My point in saying all this is that we almost never do anything altruistically. In fact, it may be that the only time we do anything with 100% pure motive is when we don't even know we're doing it. Perhaps the only time we ever actually do anything good is when we do it mindlessly, or better yet, when God does it through us while we aren't looking. Perhaps good works themselves are a gift from God.

So this definition covers all of our good works and classifies them as sin... what about our bad works? At first, I didn't think this definition included those things such as lying, adultery, and murder, but now I think that it may. The gift of eternal life isn't all that we receive from God, there is also scripture. Even though the law may be of little use when it comes to getting into heaven, and in fact may be worse than worthless, it still has plenty of use when it comes to the here and now. Scripture has been given to us, and failure to give heed to scripture is in fact a failure to receive a gift from God.

Still though, I think the most important part of this definition, especially for those of us who consider ourselves to be religious, is that part which deals with our "good" works. So, maybe instead of focusing so much on not doing bad things and trying to do more good things, we should be trying to receive all that God is giving us.

What do you think? What are you refusing to receive from God?

*such as: living a moral life, "making Jesus the Lord of my life" (as if he isn't already), being circumcised, making my "decision for Jesus" (as though there is just one decision to be made), voting Republican, asking Jesus into my heart, doing volunteer work, having "a personal relationship" with Jesus, charity, fasting, tithing, not watching rated R movies, joining a monastery, looking the "right" way, trying my darnedest, etc.

Yes, I'm still here

At the goading of my loyal fans Annie Dugas, I feel that I should put a little something up here to confirm that this blog, despite all outward appearances, is still active. It's been a busy month and I haven't had a chance to sit and think, let alone write. So, to sum it all up, I'm still here and I will be updating soon.

John out.

Hospitality, What's That?

Here's a thought/email response I had to John about my experience in Turkey concerning the concept of hospitality. It is added to, but hopefully makes one think.

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Setting: Istanbul (population: almost 13 million, in Istanbul alone)-At the last dinner together as a study-tour group. This dinner is a culmination of a month in western Turkey (the less hostile towards Christians side of Turkey). We are in a seafood restaurant that we are familiar with. There is a man who walked into the restaurant with a tray of clams. This man is going around selling the clams to the patrons, and a few of us at our table take the offer. Our tour guide Aydin (eye-din [like dinner]) is walking around as we are being served our last course before dessert. And a few of us have questions for him, so we catch his attention as he is surveying the group and looking to meet our needs if they are there and unsatisfied.

Story Goes: A classmate, a fellow table member (across from me), of mine pipes in, 'so Aydin, what is with this guy with the clams? Does he work here? Or is he a street vendor? Is that normal here in Turkey?' Aydin responds, 'Yes, yes! No, he doesn't work here. This is quite normal. That is his catch of the day. His wife is probably preparing these clams at home and he comes to the local restaurants to sell them to the costumers. This isn't a problem here, its normal and the money he gets will support his family. We have a real symbiotic relationship within our society. Between restaurant owners and those who don't have a one. Restaurants don't mind this either, it's like a family here, and they are both just trying to serve the costumer what they want.'

'Huh.' We are all baffled at the idea and the lack of food codes. This wouldn't work at all in America we reflect later together. But there's more.

Another classmate continues, 'yeah, I mean here we are at the end of the trip and throughout the trip it was really hard for us to spot the homeless in your country. So we were wondering, do you have a large population of homeless here? Or is that a problem? Are there organizations that help them out or what?' Aydin responds, 'well that's interesting friends, because we really don't have homeless. If someone needs a bed-they are taken in. If someone needs a meal-they are given one. If someone is in need, they are treated like family. We just don't have homeless here; it is a concept that is foreign to us.' We are all impressed, even if it sounds too good... after all, I didn't see any myself.

And then I remember something that Aydin said earlier in the trip-on the bus, 'Here in Turkey, hospitality is of utmost importance. We believe, in Islam, that if a stranger comes to your door, then it is Allah who sent them. So we give respect to Allah by being hospitable to any stranger we meet.' And it clicks. This is a societal idea, since Turkey is secular, this is just in their culture and thus it works. Of course it would be strange to attempt this off the bat here in America because we already have so many homeless. But my hope is there.

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When I returned to America I realized that this made a deep impression on me. I saw the homeless on at a local intersection and every time I passed my heart wrenched. Why don't we stop at all when we see someone homeless? Is it there stench? Are we in the belief that they can't possibly be truly homeless? I mean it's America, right? I actually had a short conversation with a lady at an intersection the other day who had this opinion, and therefore wouldn't even walk past someone on the street, or look in their eyes. But, can we be this cold? I'm not trying to say that we should all become hippies, or start the next World Vision. But, really? You can't even look at them in the face, even in spite of the possibility that they are on the street just to pay the bills? I don't want to be too critical, because i can ask myself the same if not similar questions. Why don't i stop and have a conversation with someone on the street? Or why don't i give them a meal? An orange? Banana? What have you.

But, I do think that there is a lost sense of hospitality in our society. And a strong sense of individual self-perpetuation, that shies away from the homeless man or woman, and gives not a care for the 'least of these'. But... wait, 'Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.' Matt. 25:45.

I don't want to make the wrong conclusion and say that solely because Turkey seems to have this down better than America, that they are a better country. Or that because an 'Islamic' country has it down better than a 'Christian' country, that one should forsake Christ and take up Allah's banner. This would be a catastrophe. But, I do believe that one can take a lesson from the people of Turkey who find this as a matter of course. Or, better yet, be challenged by the Word, and the fact that Christ calls us into obedience and to meet our neighbor... whoever it may be.

Saved for this world

Yesterday I found myself with some unexpected free time on my hands, so I went to the Japanese Garden in Manito Park and read the Gospel passage for next week, which is Luke 8:26-39.

This is the story where Jesus casts out lots of demons from one guy (the guy says his name is Legion because there are so many) and sends them into a herd of pigs, which then promptly drown themselves. The story is full of all sorts of interesting things, not the least of which is Jesus negotiating with demons, but what caught me this time was something that happens near the end. A crowd has gathered and sees the man who used to be demon-possessed sitting clothed by Jesus. They are afraid and beg Jesus to go away. As Jesus is getting in the boat to leave, the formerly demon-possessed man begs to go with him. Surprisingly, Jesus says no. Jesus tells him instead to go back to his house and to tell everyone what has been done for him.

I think we often respond to being saved from our demons in much the same way. We have a salvation experience of some kind and decide we need to become a monk (Martin Luther, anyone?) or go be a missionary or work in a church. I'm not saying that any of these things are bad things, because they're not. Also, I'm not saying that nobody is called to these things, because some certainly are. What I am saying is that there's nothing left to accomplish in our salvation, so we don't need to go do these things to prove ourselves or repay our debt or something. The gift has been given, salvation has been accomplished.

Let me say this another way. Often, in our discussions of salvation, we tend to emphasize the eternal importance of it while neglecting the immediate implication. We get so caught up focusing on Heaven and eternal life that we forget about the here and now. We tend to live "for Heaven" or something like that and therefore we strip our actions of any earthly meaning. We don't help one another for the other's sake, rather we do it with Heaven in mind. We know that we aren't earning our way to Heaven, but we are secretly trying to make ourselves more "heavenly." We live in such a way as to make ourselves holier, to be more "like God," thereby succumbing to the original temptation. When we become so focused on Heaven that we forget the here and now, we fail to fully receive the gift that has been given. Because salvation is something done for us, rather than by us, we don't have to worry about it. To be "saved" is to be saved from all of our attempts to save ourselves, from our tendency to ignore the here and now and interpret everything that happens against some constructed eternal meaning. In saving us, Jesus gives us back to this world. Because we don't have to worry about our eternal life, we can focus on this one. We are free to live earthly lives, to live as humans and give up attempting to be God. We are now free to really live; to eat for pleasure, to enjoy a sunset, to help our neighbor for his own sake, to thank God for every day.

As I sat in the garden, thinking about this, with the beauty of creation all around me, I heard a child squeal with delight when she saw, of all things, a fish. It's funny that it has taken so much reading and thinking to begin to understand what a child knows so effortlessly, but I guess that's just the way it is sometimes.

A Pint And Theology?

The other day i was having a pint with one of my brothers at one of the local bars in town. He is well known there, and whenever he takes one of his brothers with him he tends to introduce us to all his regular friends (or acquaintances, to use his terms-he doesn't like to admit that he actually has friends). I have attended a few times and it seems to be that whenever i go i am drawn into conversation in some way about theology. Not out of my own doing, mind you. But someone will inquire about what i graduated in and once they learn i studied theology, off we go on an hour long tangent. From cracks against redheads, union worker griefs, and motorcycle intrigue to God, Jesus and the Bible (or whatever suits the regular's fancy). In some way it seems to seek me out, theology that is, and i don't mind it. It keeps my mind rolling which, many of my friends know, accumulates quite the momentum at times. It is interesting to observe the diversity of people's reactions to me once they realize i majored in theology. I have come across excitement, avoidance, interest, apathy, and hatred-from the well meaning to those out to smother anyone who mentions the dreaded term 'religion'. It's kind of fun to be around such a mixed group of people, even if it takes a good dose of patience to understand what people are trying to articulate.

The last time i went i had a conversation with a man in his late 40's. When he learned of my studies he became quite excited (granted he had had quite a few by that time), and went on to describe quite a story. I'm sure i couldn't go through it all, but to keep it simple he told me about his life. How he had spent much of his younger years as a fisherman and, after a fiscal blow to the industry, found himself on the street selling cocaine to support his daughter. After a few years of this he then took the road back to being sober (that is, free from drugs) and into construction work. He told of his quite mystical experiences and finally explained how he came to Christ. Though it was quite a jumbled mass of information, the most interesting part is how he had realized the faithfulness and presence of God in his life through thick and thin. He had quite the testimony to God's patience and was quite grateful in spite of coming to grips with the fact that he is dying from cancer and has not the means for the proper medical procedures. The same night i found myself talking with a younger man who had attended a seminary in Portland and now finds himself in a most militant manner against the idea of God, Jesus, and the Bible especially. He couldn't get past the legitimacy of the flood, or other 'grandiose' ideas presented in the Bible and therefore had nothing but bitter criticism for the Church and its people. Quite the mixed bag, for sure.

Of late i have been reading Positive Preaching and the Modern Mind by P. T. Forsyth. It is quite the exploratory book, as it delves into preaching, modern thought, historical inquiry and theological musing, to name a few. Here is a passage from the book in the chapter 'The Preacher and the Age' that i found most intriguing.

'It is very singular that on the most grave concern of life a serious man so often makes up his mind in an offhand way. His religious views are of the most casual kind. He seldom really takes pains with the matter. He does not attend to it. His opinions are a sort of spontaneous deposit on the surface of his mind. If it were a business matter he would go into it. If it were a scientific question he would train his mind, and then examine. He takes business and science seriously. But his religion he does not. Scientific people who begin to desire some acquaintance with theology will betake themselves, not to the masters of that discipline as they would with any other science, but to popular sciolists who happen to have a vogue. It is not a matter worth study, as history, literature, philosophy, economy, or the markets are. I do not say a man's religion must be the result of professional or technical study, like these subjects. But it should receive no less earnest attention, and engage him no less seriously and personally, and not be taken at haphazard. That casualness is the source of most of the confusion of the time. Every important topic of human discussion seems a pathless thicket to the person who gives it no attention. It is only after you have taken it seriously for a year or two that it opens into clearness and order. Religion is confused and pathless chiefly to those who treat the greatest concerns with most levity. And it is clear and great not from without the Church, but from within. To look at a building like Albert Hall, or even St. Paul's from the outside, you would have no such impression of its vastness or grandeur as you receive from its interior. And so with Christian truth. It is really and mightily true only from within.'

It is interesting to me that on one hand, during my time at the bar the other night, there is a man who has had no learned education and yet finds 'God' a most appealing topic, and on the other, a man who has spent time in study, possibly years, and finds no more room for 'God' in his life. I'm not trying to infer that by these two gentlemen Forsyth is wrong in any way. In fact, possibly just the opposite. The older gentleman mentioned to me a that there was a reason for the younger man to be so callous. He told me, 'it's because he hasn't had to see someone die yet'. I don't know if that is true, but i heard him out just the same. It's interesting to me because although the younger man had spent time in 'professional' study, he had not the life experience that the older man had. Not to say that age is the only factor here. And maybe its because the younger man has '[made] up his mind in an offhand way' or maybe its because he hasn't given Christianity the opportunity to really engage him seriously and personally. Obviously i cannot be for certain, but again it sets my mind wheeling.

I have been thinking for a time that i may go to seminary. In light of this i have been given quite a large amount of advice concerning this thought. One idea came up when i was talking to a married couple, friends of mine, who are enrolled at Fuller Seminary in California. They told me that the reason why so many fellow students are having a hard time in seminary is because 'they spend there whole time talking about God and they never actually talk to God' (they may be quoting someone, maybe one of my professors, but it escapes my mind for now). I think this may shine a little bit of light on what Forsyth is saying when he says, 'it is clear and great not from without the Church, but from within'. It is easy for one to delve into the arguments about the historical validity of the Bible and whether or not things actually happened the way they are told. Or get hung up on one iota and completely miss the point. It is easy to talk around a subject and never actually engage with it. It is a technique of arguing that happens quite a bit in conversation as i have discovered. And it is so with Christ. As one begins to study theology it can be a slippery slope, and one can lose track of the purpose. As Paul wrote it, 'knowledge puffs up'. Theology is not free from the same danger. But if i can quote a great professor of mine, Adam Neder, (i believe, in summary of another theologian) 'the study of theology is unique in that you do not master the subject, the subject masters you'.

God Hidden and Revealed

In the course of my (relatively) short foray into Lutheran Theology (which, by the way, is teaching me just why it is that theologians peak in the latter part of their lives), the doctrine that I have struggled the most with is that of the hidden God and the revealed God.

Let me start by attempting to summarize the relevant parts of Lutheran Theology as I understand it now. One of the primary, if not the primary, distinctions in Lutheran theology is that of Law vs. Gospel. Law is defined functionally rather than ontologically (not sure if that's the right word). In other words, Law is defined by what it does rather than what it is. When Luther says Law, he doesn't necessarily mean the Mosaic Law or some abstract moral law, although he could, but he means anything that does Law to us. Luther talks about two functions of the Law: the pedagogical (from Paul's use of παιδαγωγός [paidagogos] in Galatians 3:24-25) and the civil. The civil use (function) of the Law refers to keeping order here on Earth in our day-to-day lives. This could mean Mosaic Law, but it could also mean the laws of our government and society. The pedagogical use is that which shows us our separation from God, that which shows us our sin. This can refer to anything, from Jesus' greatest commandments to Romans 3:23 (for all have fallen short) to a nagging conscience. One of my favorite images Luther uses is that of leaves rustling in the wind on a dark night in the woods. Anything that causes fear in you, anything that reminds you of your own mortality̶̶̶̶-- this is fulfilling the pedagogical function of the law.

Obviously we find the pedagogical use of the law to be... unpleasant, and we are willing to do anything to silence that voice. We look for solutions and schemes which will bring us closer to God and make us worthy of him. At the same time, we are terrified of God and are bound (like, with chains) to reject him. I know that, for those of us brought up in the Church, it can be hard to really understand that kind of fear of God. We, at least in the tradition I grew up in, are much more likely to talk about being buddies with God than subjects of him. Imagine for a moment what we know about God on our own apart from what has been directly revealed to us. We end up with the "God of the philosophers," as Pascal calls him in Pensées. We end up with an omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent God. This God is the creator/source of all there is (good and bad) and yet we want to say that he is all-loving as well. This God is so big as to be incomprehensible to us and he is the one in charge of our destinies. Luther refers to this God of natural theology as the "Hidden God." This is God in himself. This is a God that, ultimately, is hidden from us. In his book Where God Meets Man, Gerhard Forde puts it this way:

...general concepts and ideas such as almightiness, immutability and even predestination do not in the first instance reveal God to us so much as they hide him from us. They do not at first comfort or console us so much as they frighten or even repel us...But the point in saying that God is hidden is to lead us to recognize that this is exactly the way God intends it to be. He does not want to be known as he is "in heaven," in his mere "almightiness" or even merely as "the God of predestination."

Note that we are not denying that this is how God is, but we are saying that we can never really know God in this way. This God, the Hidden God, is just too big and too frightening for us to know. We are never sure if he is for us or against us. We're never quite comfortable saying what he is or isn't doing. Luther says that the Hidden God is often indistinguishable from Satan. Who's responsible for Hurricane Katrina? What about the earthquake in Haiti? 9/11? Many said that this was God punishing us while others would say that it was the act of Satan, if they gave it a supernatural cause. The fact is that we have no idea what the Hidden God is doing or not doing, nor do we know why. So how can we know God? I'll continue Forde's quote:

He wants to be known as the God in the manger or at his mother's breasts, the God who suffered and died and rose again. His almightiness, his unchangeability, the threat of predestination- all these things are "masks" which God wears, so to speak, to drive us to look elsewhere, to look away from heaven and down to earth, to the manger and the cross, to preaching and the sacraments.

God is hidden in the abstract so that he can be revealed in the concrete, in his history with humanity culminating in Jesus Christ. This God, the Revealed God, is the source of Gospel. This is the good news that we have: God is indeed for us and not against us and has worked everything out for our good.

So here's my issue: what does it mean for God to be both Hidden and Revealed? How can we say that the Revealed God is the same as the Hidden God, who is so hidden as to be easily confused with Satan? How do we know that the promises made to us by the Revealed God will be upheld by the Hidden God? I have some beginnings of ideas, but for now I'll let the questions stand.

The Blog Blog.

So, this is a blog about the blog of the brothers buther.
Who, might you ask, are 'the brothers buther'?
Well it is simple, but obviously not apparent.
Answer is, John and Tyson.
Although, i assume, as the 'primary author', John will be less active than I.
Why name a blog such?
Well, it's pretty lame so figure it out.

This will be a pool of our thoughts and probably others too.
We have at times thought about things with a strong theological focus.
So, i apologize if that doesn't suit you so well.

I'm sure that we may find some way to get the dialogue rolling, but this is not that blog.
And since i find it hard to initiate activities involving multiple people i'm sure this blog is one step in the right direction.

Tyson out.