Blogpost no. 900 — ponderings of significance

If triangles had a God, He’d have three sides. 

— Yiddish proverb

I come now to a milestone — my blogpost #900 — but have absolutely no illusions that anyone out there has been counting down to 900 with me.  This is just a small marker in one aspect of my life, and less than insignificant in everyone else’s.  Still, it gives me pause to consider this type of thinking and writing that has been important to me for nearly four years now.  Before I take a break from blogging for a while, I can think of no better way to cross this milestone than to make this post all about God. . . .

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Job and his friends wandered into the territory of God considerations—and dared to act as though they had Him figured out.

Then the LORD answered Job out of the storm. He said, “Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge?  Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me.”  (Job 38: 1)

[ Then God proceeded to provide a detailed description of his uniquely powerful and non-understandable work in creation. ]

Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.  (Job 42:3b)

I would suggest that we can’t hope to influence others for God . . . nor can we worship God . . . nor can we have a genuine, fulfilling relationship with God . . . if we limit Him by boxing Him in.

J.B. Phillips, in the classic Your God Is Too Small, suggested this:

If people are not strenuously defending an outgrown conception of God, then they are cherishing a [sort of “created”] God who could only exist between (emphasis mine   -bc) the pages of the Bible or inside the four walls of a church.

God is immeasurably “bigger” than our forefathers imagined, and modern scientific discovery only confirms their belief that man has not even begun to comprehend the incredibly complex Being who is behind—no, is—what we call “life.”

It’s a given:  ||: There is no way to describe God in human terms. :||   (Non-musicians and musicians alike, please don’t miss the repeat signs there!)

We do have the “plural” thing in the Genesis 1:26–”let us make man in our image,” or some reasonable facsimile thereof.  (Aside:  this God-expression was recently referred to, in my hearing in a small Christian gathering, in the same breath that related the serpent to “Lucifer.”  Like many other understandings, the common Lucifer concept results from translation and/or interpretation — and is enlarged by early, probably erroneous Christian history that relates Lucifer to Satan and, ultimately, to the Eden serpent.)  That deity is in some sense more than “one” is born out in John 1 and 1st John 1.  But what does this really mean?  That God is precisely two or three?

I, Brian Casey, am a “singular” thing.  But it’s difficult to narrow even me down to a singular thing.  (No, I don’t have MPD, although I do sometimes get moody and change personalities.)  I have many aspects — and some are fairly difficult to understand.  How about God?  Is He singular?  (“The LORD our God is one.”)  Or plural?  (“Let Us make man.”  “Let Us go down and confuse their language.”)  Wouldn’t He be infinitely more difficult to “figure out” in terms of number than a human?  Honestly, I’m more interested in the possible literary connection of 1) the “us” in the creation account to 2) the “us” in the Babel account than I am in figuring out whether God is to be considered a trinity.  After all, “trinity” is a human word-concept, not used in scripture.

It bothers me when we feel that we have God figured out!  It bothers me profoundly — to the point of considering the possibility that it’s blasphemy.

“Could it be that questions tell us more than answers ever do?” queried a favorite songwriter of mine, Michael Card.  I think he was onto something.

While I admit that I tend to forget the neat triumvirate of Matthew 28:19 — immersing “in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” I encourage equal thought about the non-trinitarian presentation in 2 Cor. 3:13-18.  Here, the glory of God the Father seems to be connected to the Lord Jesus, and in the final expression, which is difficult to render in English, the Lord Jesus appears to be equated with the Spirit.  The Spirit of God is surely to be attended to as we read scripture and as we attempt to live Christianly now, but could it be that the “Spirit” is more of a vain attempt to describe the eminently non-physical Essence or Nature of God?  Could it be that the question is more valuable than any purported answer?

Our ponderings, however on- or off-target they may turn out to be, can be highly significant as we seek more insight into the nature and being of God.  We do need to take care that we don’t fashion a God that looks like something we came up with—something of our imagination, as in the triangles of Yiddish lore.  God is more significant, more holy, more indescribably other than our thoughts about Him can ever comprehend.  So be it.

Job 42:5-6:  My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you.  Therefore I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes.”

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Aside from a couple of posts already written and scheduled for several days hence, I won’t be actively blogging for a while.  I’m going to take a break and will see you in a few weeks.

Sorbet as a symbol

For centuries, orthodox Christendom has articulated something about God that the scriptures do not spell out.  For centuries — somewhere between 17 and 20 of ‘em, I think — those with influence have taught a doctrine, and we have come to accept, without questioning, that this teaching simply is.  Hold that thought. . . .

Humanity’s finest moments do not come when we simply accept things without question.  To start with a minimal example, take the word “a.”  It’s so common — in over-zealous attempts to be emphatic — to pronounce “a” like the name of the letter.  Yet, despite these frequent mispronunciations by public and not-so-public figures, this English word is always properly pronounced “uh” (roughly a “schwa” sound), and never “ay.”  Again:  there is never an instance, in spoken English, in which the word “a” should be pronounced “ay.”  It’s just the way it is, and there’s no use questioning the reality.

Similarly, just because a well-intentioned, ill-informed public speaker says, “God gave this to you and I” (inaccurate use of the subjective case) or pronounces the word “interesting” with four syllables (“INN – tur – ess – ting”), it doesn’t make those things correct.

What about sherbet?  It is a logical certainty that the majority of my readers will turn out to be among those who mispronounce this word.  Were you raised calling it “sherbert”?  That doesn’t make it correct.  (Now don’t go getting all aggressive and accusative on me.  I know there are lots of things I learned incorrectly, too.)  You can pass it off as a matter of choice all you like, but that doesn’t change the fact:  the word is “sherbet.”  It is an adulterated pronunciation that includes an “r” sound in the second syllable.  All attempts to justify said mispronunciation are misguided.  It’s just the way it is.

[Aside:  for some interesting history on sorbet/sherbet, see this Wikipedia page, including information under the "American terminology" heading.  In reading this, I had a couple of presuppositions confirmed -- 1) that Americans can sometimes be a bit confused, and 2) that sorbet is entirely a fruit product, whereas sherbet is distinct and has some dairy content.]

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Now, please consider the way in which words change in meaning as time passes.  Morphings, adulterations, and corruptions are limited only by the number of hours that pass!  Will the word “a” ever be considered correct when pronounced “ay,” and will the pronunciation “sherbert” ever be thought accurate?  In both cases, the answer seems clearly to be “yes, already.”  While the reality of this answer frustrates my “righteous” side some, I must admit that neither of these matters much.  The preexistence of some things — being “just the way they are” — is not so eternal, not so consequential as with other things.  Whether you call it “sherbet” or “sherbert” or “sorbet,” its essence is unchanged, and it’s still a treat.

But what about the Christian “Trinity’?  Most of my readers assume this doctrine with certitude.  Yet presumptions have come into play through the centuries.  Is it just the way it is?  Or are there questions to be asked?

Although there are Old Covenant books I’ve never read entirely (and although that fact doesn’t bother me very much), I consider myself very conversant with the whole of New Covenant scripture.  I feel I can say with confidence that the NC scriptures never present deity as “trinity.”  There are several oblique, have-to-look-to-see-it references that seem to suggest three, but there is no place in which scriptures assert, “God has three parts, and here they are:  A, B, and C.”

For nearly two millennia, demagogues of religion have inculcated trinitarian doctrine, and we have come to accept, without question, that trinity simply is.  As with “sherbert,” the fact that someone has heard it that way all his life, presuming it was accurate, doesn’t change whatever the reality is.

Please understand that I don’t think God is not three.  I don’t think God is necessarily two, or three, or one, or any other number.  (There is a certain hold that both the unity and the duality of God have on my thinking in this arena, yet God still could be three in another sense.  I prefer to think of God as bigger than any of these numbered boxes.  I suppose, if given a multiple-choice question on this matter, I would refuse to answer the question and ask for an essay exam instead.  (Go figure — this from a verbose blogger!)

When it comes right down to it, God is God, and that very fact defies human explanation.  In view of abundant evidence of a cosmological designer, the mystery of God’s pre-existence is something I accept in faith, but the division into parts — whether “two” or “three” or any other explanation that might come in the future — amounts to nothing more than a human attempt to explain the transcendent God, to express His being in a reasoned manner.

Pictured here is one variation of something commonly known as “rainbow sherbet.”  We might presume that the flavors are raspberry, lime, and orange.  What if you found out, though, that raspberry has been mulberry all along, and that the lime and orange stripes are really both the same kiwi-tangerine flavor — and that your eyes, perceiving two different flavor-colors, had been playing tricks on your tastebuds all these years?

No matter!  It’s still a treat, and the essence is still sherbet — a good thing!

Chapel curriculum

Below is a sketch of my college’s “Chapel Curriculum” for 2012-13.  Leaving alone for now the question of what the chapel tradition is supposed to be — and yea, whether there should be a curriculum at all (making it thus a human, academic enterprise and not as much of a Kingdom one) — let’s have a look.  This plan is conveniently, if not properly, structured in three “God” categories and one human category.  

GOD THE FATHER

• Who God is
• Attributes of God
• Salvation history; relationship of old & new covenants
• Creation
  • nature/environment
  • humans created as sexual beings
  • art/music  – art
• Provision:  Deus absconditus: God’s hidden work
• Intelligence

GOD THE SON

• Teaching of Jesus: ethics; kingdom of God; imitation of Christ
• The “work” of Christ: death and all its significance for our redemption; resurrection and all its significance; soteriology

GOD THE HOLY SPIRIT  

• Spirit-inspired service
• Sanctification; role of Spirit in the Christian’s maturing, growth in love
• Discipleship
• Interpersonal relationships
• Eschatology/Judgment/Resurrection
• Church:
  • Ecclesiology
  • Christian Community; purpose & identity of the church

ANTHROPOLOGY (theological)

• Humanity in image of God
• The Christian and politics
• Common grace
• Civic justice
• The Christian’s vocation
• Business:  work and the kingdom of God, wealth

As I read over that list, I find an attractive depth and scope.  My questions, though, are many — too many, I think.  Although I might have offered to contribute to the “curriculum” with a speech on one of the topics listed, I’m afraid my views in a few areas would prove too divergent.  Every third item seems either miscategorized or ill-conceived or unclear.  I’ll offer six representative questions, using “the number of man,” because this whole curricular list, like me and like you, is human and imperfect.

1. For instance, why are discipleship and interpersonal relationships under the “God the Holy Spirit” heading and not under “God the Son” or “Anthropology”?  I suppose that in a sense, we follow the essence, the indwelling part of God; but large, significant portions of NC scripture pertain to following Jesus, leading me to the conclusion that He is the crux for humans in terms of discipleship.
2. What is “common grace,” and why is it under a human heading rather than a God one?  (Maybe I’m just ignorant of orthodox thought.)  (Don’t say anything!)
3. In my particular milieu, I think any messages in the “Christian and politics” category will likely be balanced and non-partisan, but I worry in every election year that folks will assume that every right-thinking person should be engaged in the process — when such involvement must not be cajoled, since political involvement is not required in scripture.
4. “Civic justice” is always safe … or is it?  On one hand, I affirm a mantra that goes something like this:  ”Socially/humanly liberal; morally conservative.”  But, like it or not, there’s a politically liberal agenda attached to the words “civic justice” that appeals to some, but not to all.
5. Why is Eschatology/Judgment/Resurrection under the Holy Spirit heading and not the Father or Son ones?
6. Perhaps most significant:  why, in a Christ-ian college, is the “God the Son” category so brief?

Some topical areas seem skeletal — why are there only one or two sub-topics under “church” and “creation,” for instance?  And another example:  I do think human sexuality deserves a solid berth in considerations of what it means to be human, but there’s much more to say about God’s human creation, isn’t there?  I think I remember hearing — but don’t know for sure — that a four-year curriculum exists, designed to touch on four times this many areas during a student’s time in college.  Perhaps this list is only one-fourth of the whole, designed in order to provide thoroughgoing balance over a period of years.

How about you?  Care to pick an item or two and query it, or comment on it from a Christian education standpoint?

Eikons and icons

I’ve been thinking a little about Greek the word eikon, from which we get “icon.”  In Paul’s¹ letter to the Colossians, Jesus is said to be the eikon (image) of the Father, and that thought could lead to hours of meditation and worship.

On the other hand, centuries of iconography in the Episcopal/Anglican, Roman, and Orthodox traditions continue to leave me in the middle ground between bored and aghast.  Today I had occasion to scan an article in the Rochester, NY newspaper about religious shrines in private homes, and some Lutheran adherent from Nashville was mentioned as enjoying icons in his home.  Why?  Because, he said, a council in the 7th century said it was OK and related them somehow to the incarnation.  (Oh, man.  I’m not sure I’ll be able to contain myself.  What blog fodder!)

In the meantime, I choose to try to focus on the reality that was found in the Christ.  Tomorrow, Lord Jesus, may my household, and like-minded friends with us, find especially meaningful ways to do just that.

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¹ I could call him “Saul” or “Paul” or “Saul-Paul,” but I opt out of calling him “St. Paul.”  Somehow I doubt he would prefer being set on a pedestal in that way.  We’re all saints, he would say.

Founder as foundation

Viola and Sweet, in their new book Jesus Manifesto, point out that in a few major world religions, the founder is important (see p. 82).  That makes sense.  Think Siddhartha Gautama, Mohammed, Confucius, Joseph Smith, Mary Baker Eddy. I don’t know about Scientology or Swedenborgianism.  In Animism or Atheism, in the sense that those are religions, relationship with the founder seems negligible.

In none of these other religions–and let it be clearly said that Mormonism is other than Christianity, along with Hinduism and all the others–is relationship with the founder crucial.  Think about that.

In Colossians, the centrality of Jesus is significant from the outset.  He is lauded and praised and given credit and honor and is generally placed at the core.  Paul’s placing of the Savior at the center seems to be an answer to something in Colossae’s situation.  In other words, whether it was Gnosticism, or some hybrid form of it, or the beginnings of the apathy that later surfaced in the nearby Laodicea, or a plethora of threats to authentic doctrine about the Christ . . . whatever it was, Paul wouldn’t have said the things he said about Jesus if it weren’t called for by the situation he was addressing.  This is an occasional letter–one addressed at a specific time for a specific purpose or set of purposes–not a formal epistle.

It has been noted by scholars that the wording in Colossians of a certain Christ-expression is emphatic, if not unique.  Chapter 2 verse 6 has this:  ton Christon Iesoun ton Kurion (caps added)–which, when literally, awkwardly translated, means the Christ Jesus the Lord.  The reiteration of the article “the” provides the special emphasis:  The Christ Jesus (who is) The Lord.  This word formulation, I suspect at this early stage of studying Colossians, is just one indication of the centrality of Jesus the Christ.  “Christ,” a scholar noted, has by this time in history become part of a formal proper name and not only an adjectival description of Jesus’ identity.

Given Jesus’ centrality, we must of course seriously consider how to begin — and stay in – relationship with Him.

Topics and lyrical content: reflections and dreams

Have you ever sung a song that expressed fear in the presence of the Almighty?  Or one that was written from the perspective of the cherubim or of the four living creatures around the throne (Rev. 4)?  Songs about events in Jesus’ life would seem to provide wonderful springboards to worship and praise.  We have a few that appeal to the record of His calming the storm on Galilee and beseeching Him to calm our internal storms today, but it would be nice to have a song about power in even the hem of His garment, or about His indignation at the treatment of God’s temple, or about the healing of blind people (what a lyrical possibility that brings … spiritual sight as well as physical sight!), or about the beatitudes.  We could go on. . . .

And go on we will!  Outside of the worship and praise (here I refer to lyrical content, not to any modern genre) that arena . . . I have heard a song or two that are centered on the banquet or feast that He has invited us all to, but what about a song of solidarity, of togetherness as believers?  I suppose there are enough songs of gathering and departing, but then again, maybe those areas are precisely where we need some renewal.  Maybe you would try your hand at writing a song that acknowledges the stresses of getting kids ready for “church,” piling in the car, driving through traffic lights, and then entering the glow of the assembly of Christians?  The underlying impetus behind the “Songs of Ascent” in the Psalms may be more applicable in our day than we think.

I have a sense that very few of our songs really deal—at least in any thorough manner—with sin and how we deal with it in life.  (My perception of this scarcity might indicate only my personal disinclination to delve into self-examination when in a large group.)  There are phrases here and there in our repertoire that throw a bone at the notion of sin-confession and weakness—”purer in heart help me to be,” “my spirit is hungry, but my flesh is so weak,” “change my heart, O God,” and “forgive our foolish ways”—but nothing comes to mind that really probes the darkness and pervasiveness and significance of sin.

Songs to the Holy Spirit[1] are found in small number, and with good reason:  there is really no New Covenant precedent for addressing anything to the Holy Spirit.  Personally, I am often bored by those three-stanza songs that seem to have three stanzas only because one is addressed to the Father, one to Jesus, and, oh, yeah, we need one to the Holy Spirit, too.  But on the other hand, we could use more songs about the Spirit’s work in the lives and hearts of those who are in Christ.

Speaking of last stanzas, there are lots of older songs that fall into a pattern of a requisite last stanza that deals with heaven and/or the second coming.  This is not always a bad thing to think and sing about, mind you, but it can be monotonous if you have two or three of those songs in a sequence, and they all follow the same pattern.

“Heaven songs” is a category that needs more depth; in the contemporary-style vein, it probably just needs more songs, period.  I wonder if today’s evangelical songwriters are a bit too caught up in the political and material struggles of this world to think about our true, ultimate home.  And why don’t we sing more of our security and comfort in God (like “Safe in the Arms of Jesus” and “Blessed Assurance”)?

There may be enough songs about grace and mercy; on the other hand, a lot of the modern expressions are cliché, and those topics are theologically fundamental, so let’s stimulate the writing of more!  It will not be “vain repetition,” and we can not exhaust the grace of the Lord lyrically.

There are comparatively few songs being written about communion today, it seems.  The ones we have are, by and large, very good in terms of lyrical content, but we could use more.  Songs about mission and ministry seem to be confined to a century or so of authorship (from the middle 1800s to the middle 1900s).  Songs of meditation and introspection aren’t always that popular, but maybe they should be.  And how about a really good, new song on obedience to God?

Songs of spiritual battle.  Hmmm.  “Encamped Along the Hills of Light” and “The Battle Belongs to the Lord” come to mind.  Maybe more is needed there.  And as I survey a couple of topical indices, I note that most of the songs on Christian living, in general, were written 50, 100, or more years ago.  That obsolescence is even more marked in the category of “invitation” or “altar call” songs.  In my teen years, I developed a strong aversion to invitation songs (and to the whole practice of the post-sermon invitation, actually . . . I’ll write a little more on that later).  But as I mature, I think we probably need more of those—as long as we use them well.  Perhaps it is this category more than others that deserves more contemporary lyrics.  When we are attempting to reach hearts by calling them to greater heights in discipleship, we can’t expect much effect if a past generation’s heart language is being used.

Have you ever sung a song taken directly from Old Testament prophecy?  One that credits God’s work in history, such as at the Red Sea, in Eden, at Mount Carmel, at Jericho, etc.?  I get excited thinking about the possibilities and wish I had enough time and skill to write all these songs.

This particular installment has probably served more to inspire me than to reflect for the benefit of others.  I do hope, though, that readers will be encouraged to consider, more frequently and deeply, the lyrical content of songs.

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[1] In one way of thinking, the Spirit may be described as the Essence of God.  The scriptures, as far as I can discern, do not present a precisely trinitarian view of Deity so much as a multifaceted one in which God seeks relationship with His creation and takes on different “faces,” different roles in order to communicate with humankind.

Openness of God (3)

[Several weeks ago, I mentioned in the course of an anecdote about gnats and arbitrary occurrences my intention to work through the book The Openness of God.  I’ve been doing just that, owing in part to the work some ten years ago of then-e-friends Brandon Fredenburg and Paul Woodhouse on the now-defunct RM-Bible discussion listserv.  Brandon and Paul, respectively, had synopsized the first three chapters.  I make no claim to doing such justice to this material but still would like to share a few insights from my reading.]

A new insight on the notion of logos appears within John Sanders’s chapter on historical considerations:  apparently Heraclitus used the term to refer to “the one thing that remains constant when everything else is changing.”  Intriguing, that.

A summary in Richard Rice’s first chapter giving the biblical support for the openness perspective is helpful:

At times God simply does things, acting on His own initiative and relying solely on His own power.  Sometimes He accomplishes things through the cooperation of human agents, sometimes He overcomes creaturely opposition to accomplish things, sometimes He providentially uses opposition to accomplish something, and sometimes His intentions to do something are thwarted by human opposition.

The will of God, therefore, is not an irresistible, all-determining force.  God is not the only actor on the stage of history. . . .  (38)

Practical implications of this view are the subject of the final chapter by David Basinger.  Such matters as the problem of evil and suffering, the implications of petitionary prayer, and social responsibility are arenas for continued thought and application.  “Divine guidance” caught my eye the most, though.  The advocates of the open view of God see God as possessing what they term “present knowledge,” which includes knowledge of the past but is not predictive.  It’s not as though God couldn’t know or determine the future; it’s that he relinquishes that type of sovereignty in order to allow interaction with created, loved humans.  God does not, according to the open view, possess “middle knowledge”:  He does not know or determine in advance what would/could happen if any of several options were chosen by one of us.

All this comes into play when considering how—or even whether—God guides our decision making.  Basinger rightly calls into question the second-guessing that occurs when a sincere believer believes God has opened/closed a door, leading to a specific course of action.  “God has led me here,” the Christian says, but then later, a door seems to slam in his face, so in his sincerity, he is forced to say, “Well, I must not have understood what He was saying to me,” or “Well, something in this must be good, but I just can’t see it.”  The God of the open view affirms His general will, but not a specific course driven determinedly into His willing subjects.  This liberty frees us from what can be a paralyzing quest for that comforting sense of being perfectly guided in every step, by God.

I’m in a mode of driving through projects and finishing them. Being somewhat of a perfectionist, I’m never satisfied with my thoroughness in such things, but have learned just to let a few things go after I’ve experienced them sufficiently.  Such is the case with The Openness of God and Note Grouping, both of which I’ve completed, to my satisfaction for the present.  I have grown musically, and I have grown spiritually in my consideration of these important writings.

Openness of God (2)

[Several weeks ago, I mentioned in the course of an anecdote about gnats and arbitrary occurrences my intention to work through the book The Openness of God.  I’ve been doing just that, owing in part to the work some ten years ago of then-e-friends Brandon Fredenburg and Paul Woodhouse on the now-defunct RM-Bible discussion listserv.  Brandon and Paul, respectively, had synopsized the first three chapters.  I make no claim to doing such justice to this material but still would like to share a few insights from my reading.]

Starting with yesterday’s post, I gave some of Clark PInnock’s ideas from his main (3^rd) chapter, and below are a few more.  This book proposes an apparently radical, yet common-sense, approach to theology.  In so doing, the authors end up resisting much traditional theology,

The God of the Bible is not timeless.  His eternity means that there has never been and never will be a time when God does not exist.  Timelessness limits God. . . .   The Bible sees God as present to the flow of history, facing the future partly as an unsettled matter.  (119)

[God does not have to] overcome ignorance and learn things of which He should have been aware.  [God did, however, create] a dynamic and changing world and enjoys getting to know it.  It is a world of freedom, capable of genuine novelty, inexhaustible creativity and real surprises.  I believe that God takes delight in the spontaneity of the universe. . . . (124)

The picture of God that I receive from the Bible is of One who takes risks and jeopardizes His own sovereignty in order to engage in historical interactions with created reality. (125)

In his synopsis, Woodhouse had pointed up the missiological/practical significance of our understanding of God, noting Pinnock’s mention that “atheism has found fertile soil in the classical viewpoint because of its ‘existentially repugnant view of God’ as an “uncaring, aloof monarch.”  Traditional theology, says Pinnock (and Woodhouse), tends to lean more toward the transcendence of God than to His immanence.  Furthermore on the unbalanced, tilt of theology through the centuries, Pinnock says the “’biblical-classical synthesis’ has become so commonplace that even today most conservative theologians simply assume that is is the correct scriptural concept of God and thus that any other alleged biblical understanding … must be rejected.” (60)

Almost curiously, not one of the five authors represented in this book questions the notion of “triunity,” which is not presented as such in the scriptures.  Perhaps the authors figured it was better to affirm something traditional and to build on/around it rather than to turn that stone over, too, leaving everyone reeling instead of just upsetting them.  Pinnock in particular assumes God’s threeness and uses it to bolster his case—although less convincingly for me than in other areas.

Openness of God (1)

[Several weeks ago, I mentioned in the course of an anecdote about gnats and arbitrary occurrences my intention to work through the book The Openness of God.  Well, I have.  Keeping my word to myself feels good.  For the next three days I’ll give some thoughts based on this reading.]

This book proposes an apparently radical, yet common-sense, approach to theology.  In so doing, the authors end up resisting much traditional theology, which draws heavily on a synthesis between classical Greek thought and scripture.  This “open model” results in thoughts that are foreign to both Calvin and Arminius, for different reasons.  Calvin believed, for instance, and has by influence through the centuries led to much similar belief, that it is impossible for God to “change His mind.”

Among modern Protestants, one common line of thinking has two “levels” of reality—1) the actuality of God, and 2) the way He appears to us.  Many would say, for instance, that God always acts and must must react . . . and but perhaps that He appears to us to be reacting when in reality He was not responding in any way to the activity of the creation.

The following quotes are from Clark Pinnock’s key chapter on the theological implications of the open view of God.

The fall into sin was against the will of God and proves by itself that God does not exercise total control over all events in this world.  Evils happen that are not supposed to happen, that grieve and anger God.  Free will theism is the best way to account for this fact. (115)

Some have claimed that God is wholly actual and not at all potential and thus cannot change in any way.  They have equated the biblical idea of faithfulness with the Greek idea that requires any changes related to God to occur only on the human side.  This is the error that tempted some of the early theologians to explain the incarnation without admitting that God changed, and to explain away dozens of biblical references to God’s repenting and changing.  (117)

Impassibility is among the most dubious of the divine attributes discussed in classical theism, because it suggests that God does not experience sorrow, sadness, or pain. . . .  The suffering or pathos of God is a strong biblical theme . . .  “My heart recoils within Me, my compassion grows warm and tender (Hosea 11:8).” . . .  The idea of God’s impassibility arises more from Plato than from the Bible.  (118)

Any reactions to these ideas?  If they strike you poorly, don’t blame the messenger (although I’m inclined toward them, not away from them!).

Rejected

On the heels of yesterday’s Monday Music song about the work of the Spirit, I thought it would be an appropriate time to mention our visits to two churches on Sunday.

One, known as Master’s Tabernacle, was identified by its associate minister as a “full gospel” church.  I probed that, pretty much knowing what I would hear.  The man didn’t seem to understand what he was suggesting with the “full gospel” label, so I probed again.  He affirmed that this church believed and practiced present-day miracles.  With a smile, I indicated that we didn’t want to limit God but that we wouldn’t be comfortable there, and I tried to wish them well and head out the door.  He didn’t understand at first, but then appeared mostly disappointed, with just a touch of smug “wish this guy was as complete a Christian as I am” thrown in.

He morphed his disappointment into an attempt to educate me, attesting to the “fact” that he himself was one living miracle, having fallen off the roof of the many-faceted, odd, build-along structure, and having been taken up as though dead.  Again, I won’t intentionally limit God’s ability or action, but apparently this gentleman had no idea that his mere suggestion to me that he was a miracle wouldn’t convince me of one iota of this questionable semeiological doctrine.

At any rate, this “full gospel” church was an instant reject for us, so on we drove.  I had to wonder what full-gospel churches think a “half gospel” is, and whether they have any idea that miracles and speaking in other languages (“tongues”) are not central to the gospel message.  A more apt term than “full gospel” would be charismatic.

It didn’t help that this building was rickety, and the website’s published times were outdated.  These things don’t help a church’s impression on visitors.

Next stop:  a “community church.”

MM: Our Blest Redeemer, Ere He Breathed

[The "MM" initials stand for "Monday Music"; I've been endeavoring to post on Mondays on the lyrics of hymns and other worthwhile Christian songs.]

When I began this series nearly half a year ago, I listed 15 or 20 songs and hymns that came into consciousness; every week or so, I share them, adding new titles as they come to me, as well.  Often I write about the song one or more days before the Monday the post goes up here on the blog, and often I paste in lyrics from the Cyberhymnal site instead of retyping.  But it is in fact today that I’m writing, and I will be typing the lyrics myself so that there’ll be more likelihood of personal spiritual growth and connection to God as I ponder these rich thoughts.

This song that’s been on my list for months keeps getting deferred, but it jumped out at me this morning.  Call it the move of the Spirit, or perhaps call it a sense of responsibility, or coincidence, but this one was the only choice for Monday Music this week.  This song is not a hymn but is a sort of historical narrative followed by a prayer.

Our blest Redeemer, ere He breathed His tender, last farewell, a Guide, a Comforter bequeathed with us to dwell.

He came sweet influence to impart–a gracious, willing Guest, while He can find one humble heart wherein to rest.

And His that gentle voice we hear, soft as the breath of ev’n, that checks each fault, that calms each fear, and speaks of heav’n.

O God of purity and grace, our weakness, pitying, see; O make our hearts Thy dwelling place, and worthier Thee.

Apparently, the  author, Harriet Auber, not having pen or paper, had taken off her diamond ring and scratched the words on the window pane.  The pane was stolen after her death.  Although the subject of the hymn is the invisible, inner working of the Spirit of God, we can sometimes see its outward effects.  The permanent etchings in the glass, wherever the pane is now, seem appropriately emblematic of the Spirit’s means.  We can see the effect, but the holy mystery is that we can’t see it coming or where it’s going.

The teachings about the Spirit of God that emanate from these words seem quite biblically sound to me.  The title itself springs directly from scripture:  the historical mention of Jesus’ having breathed on the disciples (John 20:19-23) is a beautiful inclusion in this last canonical record of our Lord on earth, and breathing is connected to the spirit.  (The same Hebrew and Greek words, more or less, refer to spirit, wind, and breath.)  The 2nd and 3rd stanzas are a bit more ethereally subjective but don’t offend my sense of biblical accuracy.

Speaking of accuracy, it bears mention here that I don’t find Trinitarian (with a capital “T”) doctrine in scripture.  There are ample references to the Father and to the Son, of course, and many references to the Spirit of God, Holy Spirit, Spirit of Christ, etc., as well, but nowhere have I ever discovered that God wants believers to conceive of Godself as precisely tripartite.  Not that I would go on record saying that there are not three “parts” of the “Godhead” (an extrabilical, fabricated term), but it is much more important that we leave room for the mystery of God to be whatever God wants to be, and to work in whatever way He wants to work.  I’m grateful that God chooses to live in me, and now I just need to make more room for Him.

It’s also worthy of note that nowhere in scripture does a prayer addressed to the Holy Spirit appear.  For this reason, I generally opt out of the 3rd stanza of all those songs that have three verbatim repeats of thought, changing only the addressee from the Father to the Son, and then to the Spirit.  Poetic license would allow us to address the Spirit as God, but not finding a biblical address of the Spirit, I’m reluctant to address the Spirit in prayer/song, as well.

In the four stanzas of “Our Blest Redeemer” included in the hymnal I grew up with, no hint appears of the miraculous work of God–either in the 1st century or in the present day.  But in the original stanzas, “semblance of a dove” and the “tongues of living flame” are mentioned, but without overemphasis on the miracles and speaking of other languages; the intent of the Spirit’s coming is said to be “to teach, convince, subdue.”  I like that.  And even more, I like the last stanza that I’d never known before:

And every virtue we possess, and every conquest won, and every thought of holiness, are His alone.

God, be praised for Your holy intrusion into humanity … no, check that … for Your continued, holy intrusions. You are characterized by gracious intent and the impulse of will that streams from love unceasing.

Wachet auf

A very thoughtful, high-profile scholar wrote this, in the context of a larger, philosophical question:

“The purposes of a Triune Creator who has created and gathered up all things in Jesus Christ and now perfects all things by his Spirit . . .”

… and I ask this:  when did a theory based more in history and tradition than in scripture get a capital letter on its adjectival form?  I’ve accepted that the Latin-derived Deity is often capitalized, so I suppose Trinity should be, too.  But “Triune Creator” suggests an even more thoroughgoing assumption of threeness that is not claimed in scripture.

I suppose there is a larger sanctification question in that short half-sentence, too:  does God’s Spirit really perfect all things now?

Sometimes ivory-tower, high-power theologians deserve critique, I think!  I’m not even sure what he means by “gathered up all things in Jesus Christ,” now that I think about it!

Praying to Jesus (and to the Spirit)

Growing up in a fellowship of Christians that believed strongly in obedience to God’s will has a lot of benefits.  I have reaped many of those and try to help sow a few myself.  Most of my Christian ties are with this group — a “people of the Book” — to this day, and that is no accident.  I find myself even more interested in “doing Bible things in Bible ways” today than 10 years ago, and I find quick camaraderie with others who are of that bent, no matter what group of churches they’re affiliated with.

There are always inconsistencies to be found, though, among those who say they’re “going by the book.”  I remember inquiring of a Texas Bible study group leader (who was, not incidentally, significantly more narrow-minded than I on points religious) about praying to Jesus.  I think this was in the context of a passage in John’s gospel (14:13-14?), but I’m not sure.  Anyway, there are perhaps a couple of NC references to asking things of the Son, and I wanted to elicit thoughts on why we didn’t typically hear spoken prayers directed to Jesus in our assemblies.

The dismissive response by the leader?   I remember it verbatim, and “tonatim” (the tone of his voice):  “Well, why would you want to pray to Jesus”?

That response was highly unsatisfactory to me then, and it still is.  Not necessarily because of the lack of manifest engagement with John 14, but because of the inherent inconsistency this man was unwilling to deal with.  Most Sunday mornings, Sunday nights, and Wednesday nights at the Ridgewood Church in Beaumont, we sang songs directed to Jesus.  Many of them could be categorized as prayers.  Why not spoken prayers to Jesus?  I mean, this guy would have sung, with gusto and Texas twang, “Jesus, Hold My Hand.”  Personally, I was more interested in the likes of “Christ, We Do All Adore Thee” and “Jesus, Wonderful Thou Art” and “O Master, Let Me Walk With Thee” and maybe “In the Hour of Trial, Jesus, Plead for Me.”  The point is that we were in the habit of singing a lot of things to Jesus, asking things of Him, praising him — all in song.  Why did we draw an inconsistent line at spoken prayer?  Doesn’t seem to have been a biblically warranted conclusion, does it?

For comment: Do you pray to Jesus?  As much as, or more than, praying to the Father?  Are the prayers to Jesus perhaps confined to human experiences that He, as the once-incarnate, now-glorified intercessor, could share?  And what about praying to the Spirit?  (This relates to my questioning of orthodox trinitarianism, which I don’t find suggested per se in the scriptures, but I won’t get into that again here.)  Although we could fairly readily make a scriptural case for praying to the Christ, I don’t find any adoration of the Holy Spirit commanded or modeled in the scriptures.

CMWSspir

That header looks like some sort of programming code.  It’s not.  They are the 8 letters of the old “8+3″ filename of a set of worship song lyrics.

The long-hand would be “Contemporary Music Worship Session — Spirit.”  These lyrics were prepared I prepared some 15 years ago for a group of devoted Christians to use in a sort of house church worship experience.  The rediscovery of, and listening to, this literature brought back good memories, including visions of sibling faces worshipping, and my own intensity and release of spirit.

Content-wise, what struck me was my phrasing in the subtitle:  “Inviting the Influence of God.”  Although I don’t believe I’d read a couple of key writings on the Holy Spirit at that point, I have roughly the same concept now–that the expression “Spirit of God” is equivalent, at least in one, important sense, to “Essence of God.”  When we speak of the Spirit’s indwelling us, doesn’t mean that God Himself is living in us?  It’s not that significant to me whether He is the 3rd “person” of the “Godhead” (a fabricated term-concept) or not.

Some worthy song lyrics from the songs in this contemporary music worship session:

For when I touch Your glory, Your Spirit restores me. (Nancy Gordon, Jamie Harvill)

Lord of creation, too awesome to be contained by the heavens, but living in me! (Danny Chambers, Jim Ray, Trent Austin)

I am a child without a father’s hand to hold, to lead and comfort me.  A helpless offspring wihtout a loving home, outside on my own.  Come and father me!  (Craig Smith)

Hear the voice of God’s Spirit. . . .  If you’re attentive, You’ll hear it.  His word is very vivid, very clear. . . .  Give me courage to obey Him.  Turn my face into the Spirit’s wind!  (Craig Smith)

I wish for you, my brother or sister or searcher, the experience of abandoned worship that I recall when using the songs from which those words come.  Inviting the influence of God is a very real posture of worship.

So much to say … so little fingerpower

Arthritis in my fingers and hands is already flaring up today, but I must say a few more things about the so-called Trinity, having read the closing editorial perspective in the May Worship Leader magazine. (This is an issue devoted to trinitarian theology and its ramifications in worship.)

But first, a comment on religious titles. In this patently well-intentioned article by Scotty Smith, he is referred to as “Pastor Scotty Smith.” (See previous entries: http://blcasey.wordpress.com/category/clergy-laity-system/ and especially http://blcasey.wordpress.com/2009/06/12/isnt-he-just-a-brother/):

Not only is Scotty Smith not a pastor of mine (their names happen to be Steve, John, and Ron), but … get this … he is apparently not anyone’s pastor right now. According to the bio-blurb at the bottom, Mr. Smith “served as Senior Pastor at Christ Community Church.” That’s *past tense.* Folks, “pastor”–whatever your view of using Bible names for Bible things–is a functional description, not an earned, permanent title. If one is not pastoring, he is not a pastor. If one had at one time served as a pastor, well, then he could have been called “Pastor” then. Anyhoo. . . .

Personally, I’d rather be energized by honest, scriptural inquiry than safely ensconced in adherence to orthodoxy. I’m just not interested in belonging to the group of the orthodox, inasmuch as “orthodoxy” means kowtowing to historical creedal positions under the weight of centuries of oft-misguided, sometimes corrupt religion. Some orthodox positions are on-target, but some are patently not. Scotty Smith, though he seems pretty eloquent, is passionate about orthodoxy where I am not. Smith says, among other things:

The doctrine of the Trinity is the central dogma of Christian theology, the fundamental grammar of the knowledge of God. . . .

Since worship is declaring God’s worth, then to present Him as less than Trinitarian or other than Trinitarian would represent the greatest sabotaging and miscarriage of our calling as worship leaders. . . .

As for the first thought there, well … no. I’m no trained theologian, and I’m only beginning to get the distinctions academics make between studies in religion and theology and Bible and ministry. But I tend to see the holes in false theological assumptions when I see them. One could make a case for the fundamental Christian doctrine’s being vicarious atonement, or incarnation.  Although insofar as “Trinity” means “Jesus is God,” OK, but adherence to Trinitarian thought is not necessary in order to be thoroughly Christian.

As for the second Smith thought, I certainly respect his passion. Given his conviction on this, the statement makes sense. But I would alter the statement to something like this: “Since worship is declaring God’s worth, then to present Him as a boxed-in something that His Mystery may or may not be would represent an irreverent, albeit unintentional, miscarriage of our calling as worship leaders.”

As an aside, I would suggest that, grammatically speaking, it is humans who are trinitarian or not trinitarian. God is three, or He is not, but the “-ian” suffix, not unlike “-ology,” seems to imply thought about a thing, not the identity of the thing itself.

I do agree with Scotty that “it behooves us to invest time and energy to deal honestly with this matter.” What about the “Godhead” term, which he also uses in the essay? Does anybody realize that it’s concocted out of thin air? It’s sort of Greekly mythological and downright weird–in my head, anyway. Why would I want to think of God as a sort of head with three heads?

Footnote: I appreciate so much that Leroy Garrett (one whose theologically, philosophically trained mind and devoted heart I admire) originally freed me to think “outside the box” on the concept of Trinity. As Leroy has well said, I don’t like to claim for God something the scriptures don’t claim about Him.

And now, in a desperate attempt to move on to other things in life, in God, and in work, I will mention now, in an already chock-full posting, another article that may deserve your attention: Sally Morgenthaler’s essay “Which Trinity?” from this same May Worship Leader, pp. 38-39. Though I don’t support all of Morgenthaler’s assumptions or her raison d’etre, she offers some historical information worth being aware of.

Assumptions of three

I really don’t want to get on too much of a kick here … but I keep happening on these references to Trinity, and I’m compelled to comment.

In reading the John Eldredge book Epic, I came across this paragraph:

. . . Ever since I began to believe in God … I have pictured God as … alone. Sovereign, powerful, all that. But by himself.

Perhaps the notion sprang from the fact that I felt myself to be alone in the universe. Or perhaps it came from religious images of God seated on a great throne way up there . . . somewhere. How wonderful to discover that God has never been alone. He has always been Trinity–Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. God has always been a fellowship. This whole Story began with something relational.

Despite the heartfelt attractiveness here, and despite the presumably sincere devotion of the author, this passage strikes me as the worst kind of proof-texting. When we approach scripture with subjective presumption, the likelihood of erroneous thinking and unfounded conclusions skyrockets. I do appreciate the springboards of personal experience that may lead others to truth, to God, or at least to something educational, but Eldredge’s personal journey through unsubstantiated unitarianism to equally unsubstantiated trinitarianism shouldn’t really convince anyone of anything.  Addendum:  I later read this and this that support my not being “all wet” about Eldredge’s abiblicism.

The supposed “discovery” that God has “always been Trinity” is also unsubstantiated. Yes, I know the Hebrew “Elohim” is plural, and that God said “Let us make man in our image.” But a plural pronoun is, after all, just a feature of a human language. And I suspect that any human language is not up to the task of describing our indescribable God.

I worship the Mystery.

I worship Your Majesty.

You are neither One, nor Two, nor Three.

In wonder, I worship the Being that defies description.

-bc

Unitarians and trinitarians

Again I’d like to comment on the notion of the Trinity, although not as substantively this time. Thanks, by the way, to Evan, for stimulating interchange in this area.

This quote is taken from James Gardner’s The Christians in New England:

Participation in the abolitionist cause brought the Christians into increasing contact with the Unitarians, a liberal denomination centered in Boston. Although largely holding unitarian views on the nature of God, the Christians had carefully distinguished themselves as evangelical unitarians, quite different from the liberal Unitarians. The foundation stone of Christian doctrine had been what is now called a “fundamentalist” view of the Bible as the all-sufficient, verbally inspired word of God. By the late 1830′s, the theological liberalism of the Unitarians, who regarded the Bible as a precious but fallible document of human literature, had begun to challenge the Christians’ faith. (81)

I’d like to distance myself from the thinking of today’s Unitarian theological liberalism, and from today’s Unitarian Universalists (a/k/a UUs).  From the little I know of those groups, their theology and praxis hold little in common with biblical Christianity.  However, to the extent the unitarianism (lower-case “u”) adheres to the worship of the one God, regardless of the number or nature of God’s manifestations, I’m at least interested.

And-a one, and-a two, and-a three

My reading about Elias Smith and his early 19C Christians-only movement in New England has led me again to consideration of the doctrine of the Trinity. Smith was periodically a supporter of said formula, but more often, I think, a champion of unitarianism.

Once I set out to “prove” that the Trinity is not a scriptural doctrine, and I almost did it. My method was admittedly unscientific: it consisted simply of reading English scripture passages that used the word “Spirit” (depending here on translators’ consistency in capitalizing or not) with something like the word “essence” instead of personifying the Holy Spirit in every passage. When one does this, he comes out with things like this:

Where the essence of God is, there is liberty. (2 Cor. 3:17)

If you are led by the basic nature of God, you are not under law. (Gal. 5:18)

Walk based on the nature of God, and not by your human nature. (Gal. 5:16)

I pray that out of His glorious riches He may strengthen you with power through His essence in your inner being. (Eph. 3:16)

Those who are essentially human set their minds on human nature, but those who are more essentially of God set their minds on the things that come out of His inner core. (Rom. 8:5)

[I don't present any of the above quick translations as scholarly. I'm just suggesting a basic idea here. I hope readers can see that this kind of reading doesn't denigrate the Spirit of God; rather, it allows more latitude in both the theology and the practical working-out.]

It bears mention that one of the supposedly key trinitarian passages is 1 John 5:7-8. That verse’s original text is disputed and is typically rendered, these days, with the more solidly supported “Spirit, the water, and the blood” instead of the KJV”s “Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost.” So, this is really no support of the so-called Trinity, after all.

I suspect that many trinitarians are in that camp not because of scripture but because of church tradition. And that misguided loyalty is a lot of what bothers me. It’s not that I would care, really–if God did in fact present Godself as Three, it’s fine by me. But in my reading of scripture, He doesn’t do that with any clarity.

Now, before some of my loyal readers (all seven of you) become concerned or offended at my lack of orthodoxy, let me hasten to add that I’m not converting to the Jehovah’s Witness organization or any other system that doesn’t quite believe in the divinity of the Messiah Jesus. I do find at least two clearly identified “personages” of God–the Father and the Son. (Does this make me a binarian?)

Caveat lector: none of this is intended to downplay the Spirit’s indwelling of Christians. I would simply say, at this point, that the Spirit is the aspect of God that lives in us, is our paraclete, teaches us, etc. It’s not necessary to say the Spirit is precisely the third “person” of the “Godhead” (an abiblical term) to believe that God lives in me.

I wish churches and individuals wouldn’t feel the need to superimpose systems on scripture. I prefer not to claim something about God that scripture does not claim. The nature of God is a mystery, not a systematized, boxed set of three.