Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Picture This

Passage: Lord’s Day 35

“Do you take the Bible as the literal word of God?” If you’ve ever been asked that question, you probably felt as though the right answer was “Yes”, and that if you didn’t say “Yes,” you were going to be in trouble. Great battles are fought within the church every day about whether or not we should take the Bible literally. The truth is, there isn’t a right answer to the question because it’s the wrong question. To say, “I take every word of the Bible literally” is to demonstrate utter ignorance about what the Bible really is. Within our tradition we believe the Bible is the Word of God. We believe that it is the clearest and most reliable source of God’s self-revelation. And as such, we understand that God uses human language to describe realities that are essentially indescribable.

The God of the Bible is a God of paradoxes. One of these paradoxes is that God wants us to understand him, yet tells us we can’t understand him. In fact, God discourages people from trying to make too much sense of him. Consider God’s prohibitions against attempting to make images of the divine. The second of the Ten Commandments reads,
You shall not make for yourself an image in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below. You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I, the LORD your God, am a jealous God…
To be fair, this is a prohibition against making an image of anything you intend to worship. But there are two reasons why this rule applies specifically to making pictures of God. First, God is the one being in heaven and earth who not only deserves to be worshiped but must be worshiped. Any attempt to render an image of God is by definition an attempt to create an object of worship. Second, no human creation, no matter how majestic, can begin to compare to God himself. Therefore any attempt to picture God can do nothing but diminish and degrade the real thing.

How then are we supposed to relate to God? The Bible is full of language that describes God’s attributes and God’s actions. But the best any Biblical author can give us is analogies and metaphors. “God is like this…”; “God does this…”; “God has told us that he desires this…” Each phrase and each account gives us a snapshot of one small part of who God is and how God works. When we piece them together, we end up with a constellation of words, attributes, and actions that gives us a glimpse; a shadow; an afterimage of the one true God.

Does God have wings (Psalm 17)? Does God carry a rod and staff (Psalm 23)? Does God sit on a throne (Psalm 40)? Perhaps, but not in the literal way we think of any of these objects. It’s just that, given the limitations of our language and our imaginations, these are the best we can do. The closest any of us can get to a picture of God is the full witness of those who, throughout history, have caught glimpses of God in action. This is what we find recorded in the Bible. If you want to know God, start there. Read the whole thing. Accept that what we get is a vastly reduced and vastly incomplete picture of the majesty and glory of God. But be satisfied with what God has chosen to reveal about himself. For now we don’t need more; and for the future God promises an eternity in which to get to know him better.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Giving it up

Heidelberg Catechism Q & A 94
Q. What does the Lord require in the first commandment?
A. That I, not wanting to endanger my very salvation, avoid and shun all idolatry, magic, superstitious rites, and prayer to saints or to other creatures. That I sincerely acknowledge the only true God, trust him alone, look to him for every good thing humbly and patiently, love him, fear him, and honor him with all my heart. In short, that I give up anything rather than go against his will in any way.

People laugh when I tell them I’m an emotional eater. This is probably because I’m skinny. It may also be because the concept of the emotional eater is a little funny. If you’re not familiar with the expression, an “emotional eater” is someone who eats primarily to meet an emotional need rather than a physical need. I love food. I devote more mental energy than I should thinking about food. I have high expectations of the ways food will fulfill me as a human being. I’m disappointed when food doesn’t meet my expectations. At times I eat when I’m not even hungry. It’s all because I need food to do something more for me than what food was designed to do.

Everyone has something like this. An experience or relationship or object we expect to do for us something it wasn’t designed to do. Provide security; affirmation; identity; comfort. These are the things that become hang-ups; obsessions; addictions; unhealthy attachments. The provisional things from which we hope to derive something ultimate.

The Bible identifies these things as idols. As post-enlightenment, smart people, we think of idols as primitive religious objects. We therefore don’t think ourselves in any danger of committing that cardinal sin – idolatry. We have to think again. Idolatry is, in fact, allowing any person, place or thing to inhabit the space in our hearts only God should inhabit.

The Catechism challenges us to give up anything that pulls us out of line with God’s will. Immediately we ask, “How do I know what about my life contravenes God’s will?” Maybe a more appropriate question is, “What would I be unwilling to give up, should God ask it of me?” The reality is that most of the things we’d refuse to give up are things we won’t carry into eternity, anyway. What’s the thing in your life about which, should God say, “That or me?” you’d say, “No way!” What good thing has become your ultimate thing? That’s your idol. God offers to give you – in a purer, more abundant, and more lasting form – whatever you think your substitute is giving you. Paradoxically, if you seek the ultimate from God, you’ll experience greater satisfaction, less anxiety and far less disappointment in the temporal gifts he’s given you. Try it.

Monday, August 15, 2011

Repentance and Rest

Passage: Isaiah 30:15-22

Frank Abagnale Jr. began his life of crime as a teenager. His first con was using the credit card his dad gave him to buy items from local gas stations, then selling them back to gas station attendants for cash. Shortly thereafter he started writing checks on his bank’s overdraft, then opening accounts under false identities to continue writing bad checks. By the time he was 19, Abagnale had mastered the art of forging checks and developing new identities. He had successfully masqueraded as an airline pilot, an attending physician at a hospital, a teacher’s assistant at a university, and an attorney. Then he got caught. He was first imprisoned in Perpignan's House of Arrest in France, where he spent 6 months in a cell without light, toilet facilities, a bed or even clothing.

Abagnale’s exploits, and the consequences thereof, are depicted in the film Catch Me If You Can. Much of what you see in the film is a highly intelligent young man enjoying a fantastic adventure. But as Abagnale’s crimes become more serious, a degree of desperation becomes apparent. He has to tell more and more elaborate lies; he has to spend more and more time on the move. By the time he ends up imprisoned in France, he is worn out and broken down from running.

One of God’s repeated invitations to his people throughout their history is the invitation to stop running. To turn around. Like Frank Abagnale Jr., the children of Israel have abandoned the safe boundaries God established in favor of a life that initially seems more rewarding and much more exciting. What they don’t see is the danger in running away from God. The inevitable consequences of their actions. It’s not until they are imprisoned – literally – that they see the wisdom in living God’s way. In Isaiah 30 God forewarns his people. He says, “In repentance (literally, "turning" or "returning" in Hebrew) and rest is your salvation; in quietness and trust is your strength.” God says again and again, “Return to me. It doesn’t matter how far you’ve run. Just come back.”
God continues to say this to his children. It doesn’t matter how far you’ve run. Just come back. Repent; return; stop running and find rest.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Who's the Fool?

Passage: Psalm 14

The "fool" is a recurring character in a number of Shakespeare’s plays. In both his comedic and tragic works, the fool introduces an element of chaos, humor, and irony, and serves to provide insightful commentary into the lives of the characters and the plot of the play. As such, Shakespeare’s fools are never as they seem. They are often perceived by other characters as simple, unsophisticated, and menial. Only the audience sees the fool’s wisdom and transcendence of the entanglements of the other characters. The fools are never as they seem.

The same is true of the “fool” in Psalm 14. Here the psalmist talks about the kind of person who, by all appearances, is a great success. One who has acquired power and used it to his or her advantage; one who has amassed wealth; one who has outplayed his or her opponents in the game of life. According to the human authors of the Bible, folly and wisdom aren’t measured in intellectual achievement, political prowess, or economic excellence. Rather they are determined by one’s posture toward God. The fool, according to Psalm 14, is the one who denies, in faith and in life, that there is a God. Disbelief in God precipitates a host of self- and other-destructive behaviors. The psalmist identifies greed, violence, and the abuse of the poor, but also makes the blanket statement, “They are corrupt – their deeds are vile.” Nothing that emanates from an unbelieving heart has lasting, or saving, value.

What’s the alternative? Believing in God, and shaping one’s life accordingly. Faith in the one true God necessitates humility. It requires the attitude, “God is God, and I am not.” God demands the throne – over our world, and over our lives. True wisdom is accepting one’s limitations, weaknesses, and sins, and acknowledging one’s dependence on God. Wisdom is expressed in a life of devotion to God and accountability to God’s Law. This seems upside-down to us. It seems foolish. But who’s the real fool? According to the psalmist, it’s the one who ignores all of God’s overtures and insists on going it alone. No matter how smart, strong, or savvy you are, you can’t do for yourself what God promises to do for you. Don’t be a fool.

Monday, August 8, 2011

Gratitude

Passage: Lord’s Day 32; Romans 6:15-19

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – Part 2 is currently in theaters. If you’ve seen Part 1, you know that it ends with the tragic death of a character named Dobby. Dobby is a house elf – a species of magical creature born and bred to serve as slaves. Dobby is introduced in the second installment of the Harry Potter corpus (Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets). At first he appears to be a nuisance, impeding Harry’s progress and getting him into trouble. Later it turns out that Dobby has in fact been repeatedly preventing Harry from falling into the hands of his enemies. Eventually, Harry sets Dobby free from a very abusive master. For this, Dobby commits his life to serving Harry. Ultimately, as we see in the last installment of the series, Dobby goes so far as to lay down his life for his friend. Whereas he had once slaved out of obligation and duty, Dobby becomes a slave to love. His service, and sacrifice, are expressions of his immense gratitude.

The Christian life is primarily a life of gratitude. Jesus Christ offers to save people from slavery – slavery to sin and death. Jesus’ invitation is to live a life of freedom. If you’ve been faced with slavery or certain death, the guarantee of freedom is life-altering. Every moment is a gift. You never forget the one who has afforded you this gift. And you never forget what you owe them.

The assumption of the Catechism is that the life of obedience to which we are called is not a life of obligation. We pursue the rigors and sacrifices of the Christian life not because we’re indebted, but because we’re grateful. Every moment is a gift – one which we savor with joy. Whether we’re celebrating or serving, gratitude colors everything we do. If we keep in mind that every act of self-discipline or service is enacted on behalf of our Savior, we will find surprising joy in everything we do. We “do good” not to earn our salvation, but because we have been saved.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

The Keys of the Kingdom

Passage: Matthew 16:13-20

There’s a scene in the film Labyrinth in which the protagonist, a teenager named Sarah, has to pass through a heavy, locked gate to proceed on her mission. Her way is barred by a particularly cantankerous guard who insists, “No one may enter without my permission!” He makes a lot of noise, and holds his ground in spite of Sarah’s protestations. Finally, Sarah simply says, “Well, can I have your permission to enter?” He stops. Thinks for a minute. And says, “Well, I don’t see why not.” He opens the gate and lets her through.

In Matthew 16 Jesus suggests that the Kingdom of Heaven is locked. And he tells his disciples that they are the ones who hold the keys. Historically the church has taken Jesus’ words very seriously. We, the reasoning goes, are the gatekeepers of Heaven. We have the power to keep people out, or let them in.
The Catechism argues that we exercise this power in two ways: preaching the Gospel (“opening”) and exercising church discipline (“closing”). This is a tremendous amount of responsibility. And we run the risk of responding to the commission in one of two wrong ways: taking it too seriously; and not taking it seriously enough.

It’s easy for us to minimize the efficacy of our own presentations of the gospel. Especially if we’re not professional preachers or evangelists, we worry that we won’t articulate the good news in a convincing or compelling way. We conclude that we’re better off leaving the job to the experts; we end up neglecting the task entirely. The fact is God can use whatever we offer to change people’s hearts. We don’t even have to start with words. If we are shaped by the joy of belonging to God through Jesus Christ, our own lives will provide an excellent foray into conversations this life-changing relationship.
Alternatively, we can take our job too seriously. Thinking of ourselves as gatekeepers, we may assume our primary responsibility is to keep people out. If so, we’ll focus undo attention on whether those we meet are fitting candidates. Jesus challenges his disciples again and again not to judge others on the basis of what they see. If anything, Jesus encourages his disciples to see in anyone the potential for redemption, and to leave it to God to render a final judgment. God, after all, is the only one who can see into people’s hearts.

As the keepers of the keys, therefore, our job is to look for every opportunity to open the gates. In fact, that which the Catechism identifies as the act of “closing” the gates of Heaven – i.e., church discipline – applies to people who are already “in.” As such, condemning the sins of those outside the church is a waste of time. Our response to “sinners” should be invitation – “Come this way to enter life.” If we’re to be vigilant about sin, we should start with our own. What are the things in my own life that aren’t befitting a citizen of the Kingdom of Heaven? What are the sins we’re fostering as a community that are at odds with the charter of God’s Kingdom?
When people come to us wanting to enter, maybe our response should be, “I don’t see why not.” After all, “while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” We were permitted entry, unworthy candidates that we were. Shouldn’t our first priority be to invite others to enter the same open door?