Was it as early as March 2011 when egalitarian seeds began to plant inside of me? Was it as early as April 2011 when I began to question the existence of a literal heaven and hell? (Was Rob Bell ahead of his time?)
What about December 2012 when Rachel Held Evans prompted me to read the Bible through the lens of a modern-day woman? Maybe April 2015 when I ruminated on my dalliance with Catholicism? Or perhaps November 2015 when my church foundation bottomed out and I felt adrift, with nowhere to hold on to?
Or even maybe as recent as October 2019 when I discovered the #exvangelical community on Twitter?
It is now January 2021. And I hold to 3 basic beliefs:
I affirm a living, loving, and everlasting God.
I affirm believe in Jesus Christ as the son of God.
I affirm a belief in the Holy Spirit who serves as my conscience.
Yo. Everything else is now game. What a departure from when I first started this blog in 2009. And even more so, depression introspection in 2006.
Here I am. Standing at a road where I whole-heartedly agree with everything in this post. Don’t mind me while I quote some notables:
My leaving is not leaving God. It is leaving the people who claim to speak for him.
I believe… 1. God is love. 2. To show love is to be godly 3. If God is God he will reveal himself in his own way to anyone who seeks to love and through love know him. 4. Women deserve a seat at every table including the clergy and that separate but equal is not equal at all. Male headship is patriarchy and an unfair burden for both men and women. 5. I reject purity culture, and any form of spirituality that forces an individual to choose between their sexuality and their spirituality. Wholeness and health does not come through cutting off one part of yourself to appease another. 6. I affirm all of my LGBTQ siblings fully and completely and without caveat. 7. I reject all efforts to use faith to gain or preserve influence and power.
June 29, 2019 marked 10 years of having This Journey Is My Own. I still haven’t bought the domain name. I probably should but I’m rather lazy and I don’t have that much readership.
Over a decade, I’ve blogged about God, Christianity, faith, employment (in general), career, infertility, parenting (after infertility), family, goals, books, Haiti, politics, LGBTQ+ issues, my identity, music, current events, race, and other thoughts. Everything is always random. Nothing makes sense. There is no structure to anything. My views are ever-evolving.
How far back can I go to blogging? Well, I have a LiveJournal that dates back to September 2, 2001 but that’s private and I haven’t touched it since 2012. Public blogging? Depression Introspection was begun on July 21, 2006. Technically, I have almost 20 years of blogging under my belt.
So where do I go from here? What topic is left to explore or re-explore? What pisses me off so much that I want to rant about it again? Nothing right now. I’m not passionate about much right now. I just want to survive. That’s all I’m trying to do these days. Is survive. Between work and my personal life (parenting, new house, commute), I’m just trying to survive. Self-care has gone to the wayside. Survival is my new hobby.
It’s not hard to put into words what I’m thinking and feeling—verbally. Writing it down is another story.
A lot of what I believed previously has changed and evolved. I no longer buy into the fundamentalist teachings of yore. I also don’t buy much evangelical teaching either. Apparently, there’s a group of #exvangelicals on Twitter. These are former evangelicals who no longer associate themselves with fundamental Christianity. Maybe some of them are still Christians, of which I am one. But others have become atheists, agnostics, or have decided to pursue a different religion altogether (eg, Buddhism). A friend who has become an agnostic exvangelical sent me a helpful link that defines who falls into exvangelicalism.
I’m a weird mix of Calvinism and progressive Christian beliefs. How do you merge Calvinism with progressive Christian beliefs? I actually don’t know. But I do it.
I’m having a crisis of faith right now. I believe in God and I believe in Jesus. I just… don’t believe in all the stuff that comes with Christianity. I don’t want to do the stuff that comes with Christianity, such as:
Attending church
Praying regularly
Reading the Bible
Church often feels like a social gathering—a way to meet new people. I love my church. If I could pick any church to attend, it’d be the church I’m a member of. So why do I choose sleep over worshiping God on Sunday mornings?
I’m constantly trying to figure out who I am. Should I go by my Twitter bio?
Jesus follower, wife, mother, daughter, Haitian-American, Presbyterian (PCA), Beatles fan, pop princess, non-mommy blogger, suicide survivor, and more…
My Twitter bio only allows 140 characters so I’ve always wondered what I would add as “more” if I had unlimited space. But I also want to define how I describe myself in my Twitter bio. So here goes nothing… Continue reading “Twitter bio and more…”→
Faith plays an odd role in my life. It’s the thing that has brought me back from the brink of death. In case you’re not aware, I’m a born-again Christian who believes in Jesus Christ as her lord and savior. Or in more politically correct terms, I’m a Jesus follower. I believe in the teachings and commandments of Jesus. I believe that he has fulfilled Old Testament law and that I don’t need to adhere to everything to be a good Christian.
I used to think, in order to be a good Christian, that it was necessary to pray every day and read the Bible every day, but Jesus didn’t say any of those things. Jesus said the ultimate commandments were to love God and love your neighbor as yourself (Matthew 22:37-40).
Faith, for me, is sort of an odd duck. I have it. Then I don’t. It’s a process. I believe in God, but I’m lousy at attending church regularly. I read the Bible as often as I can (though not every day), and I pray as I think of it.
There was a time I would’ve said faith was central to my well-being. And in some ways, it still is. It’s one of the most important things in my life. But if I’m honest, I don’t rank God first through my actions. He’s often secondary to other things. I don’t mean for things to be that way. I try to put God and government first when it comes to money (although, if I’m honest, the government comes first most of the time). But when it comes to time, God only gets a small portion of it. He should really get a much larger portion but I don’t know how to spend time with him that isn’t meaningless.
Maybe I should just sit in silence and see how he speaks to me.
I’ve been thinking that it’s next to impossible to be an American (or a Westerner for that matter) and not be judgmental. We pride ourselves on “judgmentalism.” With shows like American Idol, Survivor, and X-Factor, Americans play judge and jury on contestants. We are the civilized form of ancient Romans eagerly watching which contestant will dodge the tiger each week.
I am paranoid about people judging me. But as Jesus challenges me to pull the beam out of my own eye (Matt. 7:4-5), I find that not only am I judgmental but I encourage my judgmental attitude by watching TV shows that propagate the cycle. I cannot call others out for being judgmental when I am guilty of the same and expose myself to viewing that enables my sin.
I don’t know how I will be able to fully extricate myself from a culture of judgment. But I must ask forgiveness for my heart and try to remain pure so that a beam isn’t so badly poking my eye when I see this fault in others.
“I can’t trust God right now.” — a 7-year-old I know
How many times have I wanted to say this? How many times have I even thought it but was too afraid to speak it?
I am reading A Praying Life by Paul Miller in which he encourages his readers to pray like little children, blurting out whatever’s on their minds—unpolished and unvarnished. There’s no double-speak like the Pharisees. God would rather hear from me, “I can’t trust You right now” than “Lord, I am trusting You” when it’s really not true. Of course, it’s always good to follow up “I can’t trust You right now; help me to trust You” like the man prayed in Mark 9:24 “Lord, I believe, help my unbelief!”
I am in a time in my life where things aren’t exactly how I planned them. I planned:
To be married at 25
Have kids at 30
Have a thriving career in the newspaper/magazine industry
I got married at 23, almost 30 without kids, and ZERO career in the industry of choice.
The career thing often bothers me most, in some ways, more so than dealing with infertility. There should be a support group for people mourning the careers they never had or could’ve had.
My career is on the fringe as a proofreader for an ad agency and a manuscript editor. Yes, I get to do more than some people do, but at the same time, the income is unsteady. There are many fits and starts. I don’t know if and when the next job will come through. I work at the library to support these goals, but I know God is telling me to be patient, to trust Him in these uncertain times. To trust that He will provide the next job if and when he does so. It’s a scary thing to know that if your husband dies, you may not be able to support yourself.
I can’t trust God right now. But I hope He will give me grace and strength to trust in Him anyway.
I’ve been going through an incredibly difficult time on a personal level and have been really struggling in my faith. I often function based on feelings (yeah, yeah, I know, feelings aren’t reliable) and lately I’ve had the need to feel that God loves me. And I’m constantly met with… silence. Continue reading “Are You There, God? I’d Really Like An Answer.”→
Before I became a born-again Christian at 16 years old, my problem at that time was that I didn’t have enough “self-esteem” and “self-confidence.” I didn’t believe in myself enough, and I didn’t try hard enough to believe in myself (which to be honest, I didn’t because I was an angsty, grungy teenager who thought it was cool to revel in my depression and suicidal bent).
Enter in born-again fundamentalist Christianity.
Fundamentalist Christianity says that one must not believe in self and only in Jesus Christ. Fundamentalist Christianity has no room for self-esteem, requiring a believer to place his or her trust solely in Jesus Christ.
Then I entered Protestantism and encountered a softer version of the same thing: Solo Christo! (This really refers to a theological belief of salvation, but this is the prescription of many orthodox Christians when it comes to problems with self-esteem.)
For a long time then, I believed self-esteem and self-confidence were wrong. I eschewed these things because my sole worth should be found in God and not in myself. I engaged in “worm” theology: Oh, I’m such an awful, terrible sinner. There is no righteousness in me. All righteousness is found in God, and I’m poor, pathetic, pitiful soul. I suck at life and I’m so lucky God saved me because I’m totally worthless otherwise.
Image from bn.com
Beginning last week, I started reading Jillian Michaels’s book, Unlimited: How to Live an Exceptional Life, and started seriously thinking, Maybe it’s time for me to walk away from Christianity because I like what Jillian’s saying about reclaiming and recapturing my life. I want to have self-esteem. I want to have self-confidence. I want to stop obsessing and feeling like a poor, pathetic little shit all the time.
But as I got further and further into Jillian’s book, I realized that a lot (not all) of what she says actually lines up with scripture. (Her chapter on Forgiveness and Accepting Responsibility was so solid, it blew me away.) And I realized that self-esteem and self-confidence do NOT need to contradict Christianity and God’s word. How?
In Mark 12, a scribe comes up to Jesus to test him. The scribe asks, “What is the greatest commandment?”
Jesus answered, “The most important is, ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” —Mark 12:29-31
So Jesus lays it down: we are to love God with everything we have first. Then we are to love our neighbor as ourselves.
The assumption is we already love and esteem ourselves. If we do not, how are we able to love and esteem others better than ourselves (Philippians 2:3)? So one must tackle the challenge of learning to love and esteem oneself first before being able to truly love and esteem others better. Consistently treating others better than you treat yourself leads to an erosion of self-love and a path to possible codependency and people-pleasing (needing the approval of others).
An example: think of the mom who sacrifices herself on the altar of her children. This mother is constantly shuttling her kids to soccer practice, gymnastics, ballet class, and Boy Scouts but never takes any time for herself, investing her life in her children at great detriment to her health. She will likely be one stressed out and unhappy mommy. She may have high blood pressure, feel dizzy, and tired all the time. Yet think of the other mom who shuttles her three kids to the exact same activities (still investing immensely in her kids) but once a month, goes to a spa to relax and get pampered. Three times a week, she jogs outdoors for 20 minutes simply to clear her head. Maybe she’ll even join a bi-monthly knitting group so she can engage in her own hobbies so she is invested in herself enough so that she can take care of her children. The latter mom is likely to be in an overall healthier position (mentally and physically) than the former.
A person who invests in herself first is better able to love and serve those around her. I do a better job helping people on 7 hours of sleep than I do 4 hours.
All this talk of self-love is probably making some Christians twitchy. It sounds odd and new age-y. But remember, Jesus assumed that we would already love ourselves and from that, commands us to love our neighbor. As Christians, if we don’t love ourselves, we are sinning. Continue reading “Self-Esteem and Self-Confidence: Shedding “Worm” Theology”→
On Goodreads, I gave Rob Bell’s book Love Wins three stars. I might have given it 2.5 if I had the option.
I went through a detailed chapter-by-chapter analysis (but not as thorough as I would’ve liked to be!) outlining some of the issues I had in the book. Let’s see if it’s possible to recap:
Preface: Raises more questions than it answers, book has no notes, footnotes, endnotes, or bibliography. Further reading doesn’t cut it.
Chapter 1: Questions about heaven and hell that are set-up for the rest of the book.
Chapter 2: Heaven is a place on earth. God will eventually redeem and restore this broken world.
Chapter 3: Bell says Gehenna was really the city dump in Jesus’ day. Not a spiritual place of eternal torment. Bell says people can still reject God in the afterlife but leaves the door open for eventual repentance. He introduces an idea similar to purgatory in Catholicism. Then he says everyone will eventually be reconciled to God.
Chapter 4: Bell asks: Does God get what God wants? What is it that God wants? “‘God wants all people to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth’ (1 Tim. 2).” Bell says contradicts himself in this chapter by saying that yes, some people believe God gets what He wants through eventual universal reconciliation and restoration but that God’s love allows for the freedom to reject him if someone wishes to do so. He adds that people don’t need to believe in the traditional doctrine of hell to be a Christian and that people can assume there’s a chance for repentance in the future.
Chapter 5: Bell tells his readers that Jesus dying on the cross and rising again the third day was a very beautiful thing. Don’t mar this beauty with nasty talk of eternal exclusivity via the traditional view of hell.
Chapter 6: Bell says that (since Paul says that) Jesus was present in the rock that Moses struck to give water to the Israelities, so Jesus is present in anywhere or anything. He also puts forward the odd idea of reverse universalism which posits that Jesus is present in all paths (ie, Jesus can be Mohammad for Muslims, Vishnu for Hindus, or nirvana for Buddhists).
Chapter 7: Using the template of the parable of the prodigal son (or the two sons), Bell says that we will all be at a party/celebration (heaven) and we can choose to exhibit negative attitudes and vices (hell) during the party if we want to. We can reject the Father’s love.
Chapter 8: Bell reminds his readers that people can miss out on rewards, celebrations, and opportunities and that love wins.
(And no, I would not have been able to do the summary above had I not done the analyses first.)
[This is the FINAL part of a multi-part series on Rob Bell’s book, Love Wins.]
Indeed, the end is here! And I know you and I are probably both glad for it.
Bell gives his testimony of how he came to know God’s love and invites his readers to trust God and that “the love we fear is too good to be true is actually good enough to be true.” Bell reminds his readers that the decisions they make today will impact the future, the hereafter.
This invitation to trust asks for nothing more than this moment, and yet it is infinitely urgent. Jesus told a number of stories about this urgency in which things did not turn out well for the people involved. One man buries the treasure he’s been entrusted with instead of doing something with it and as a result he’s “thrown outside into the darkness.” Five foolish wedding attendants are unprepared for the late arrival of the groom and then end up turned away from the wedding with the chilling words “Truly, I tell you, I don’t know you.” Goats are sent “away” to a different place than the sheep, tenants of a vineyard have it taken from them, and weeds that grew alongside wheat are eventually harvested and “tied in bundles to be burned.”
This paragraph begs for an explanation, begs for elaboration because of all the images and stories presented here. But Bell only offers this:
These are strong, shocking images of judgment and separation in which people miss out on rewards and celebrations and opportunities.
Bell glosses over the striking imagery presented in each of the parables he quickly presents, completely ignoring the deeper meaning and symbolism that lies in each because the explanation wouldn’t support his purpose in writing the book. It’s a shame because that large paragraph (not typical for Bell; I’ve done my best to adhere to his short line breaks) prompts more questions than Bell will ever be inclined to answer.
Love is why I’ve written this book, and
love is what I want to leave you with.
I walked away from this book with more frustration and unanswered questions rather than love and peace the fills the soul.
[This is part XIII of a multi-part series on Rob Bell’s book, Love Wins.]
Image from covdevotions2010.blogspot.com
Heading into Chapter 7, the reader gets the sense that Bell is wrapping things up. He details the parable of the Prodigal Son very much in Tim Keller-like style, giving equal attention to the elder and young brothers. But then he also focuses on the attributes of the father in how he dealt with his sounds:
The father redefines fairness. … Grace and generosity aren’t fair; that’s their very essence. The father sees the young brother’s return as one more occasion to practice unfairness. The younger son doesn’t deserve a party—that’s the point of the party. That’s how things work in the father’s world. Profound unfairness.
The odd thing as I read that is that well, yes, I agree. God is unfair. And somehow I see this as evidence that bolsters a Reformed theologian’s argument rather than Bell’s idea of religious universalism.
People get what they don’t deserve.
Bell and I still agree.
Parties are thrown for younger brothers who squander their inheritance.
I put on brakes here not because I disagree with the statement as it’s written, but I worry that the implication is that it’s okay to “squander” an inheritance because a party gets thrown anyway. (Romans 6 warns against this.)
As Bell continues to develop his idea of this widely known parable (shifting away from Keller), Bell seems to redefine “hell” as a person living in the enslavement of his or her own selfish attitudes and vices in the presence of a loving and generous God.
Jesus puts the older brother right there at the party, but refusing to trust the father’s version of the story. Refusing to join in the celebration.
Hell is being at the party.
That’s what makes it so hellish.
… In this story, heaven and hell are within each other,
intertwined, interwoven, bumping up against each other.
If the older brother were off, alone in a distant field,
sulking and whining about how he’s been a slave all these years and never even had a goat to party with his friend with, he would be alone in his hell.
But in the story Jesus tells, he’s at the party, with the music in the background and the celebration going on right there in front of him.
Later on, Bell says:
We create hell whenever we fail to trust God’s retelling of the story.
The odd thing is, I see Bell’s connection. But I fear that his conclusion is simply just a leap. This idea is not easily pulled from the text, and when you frame the parable of the prodigal son in the context of a book on heaven, hell, and fate, sure, it somewhat makes sense. But out of the context of Love Wins (and in context of the rest of the Bible), I don’t know that Bell’s interpretation of the story holds up. And therefore, ultimately, I think it falls apart as a whole.
Bell later on admits that people who reject God do suffer punishment:
We’re at the party,
but we don’t have to join in.
Heaven or hell.
Both at the party.
… To reject God’s grace,
to turn from God’s love,
to resist God’s telling [of our story],
will lead to misery.
It is a form of punishment, all on its own.
This is an important distinction, because in talking about what God is like, we cannot avoid the realities of God’s very essence, which is love. It can be resisted and rejected and denied and avoided, and that will bring another reality. Now, and then.
We are that free.
This is the part where I imagine Reformed Christians chafing at the collar at that last statement. But Bell continues on to unequivocally state that yes, hell exists and people can create it. But I fear Bell is too equivocal in what that hell is (negative attitudes and vices).
When people say they’re tired of hearing about “sin” and “judgment” and “condemnation,” it’s often because those have been confused for them with the nature of God. God has no desire to inflict pain or agony on anyone.
God extends an invitation to us,
and we are free to do with it is [sic] as we please.
Saying yes will take us in one direction;
saying no will take us in another.
… We do ourselves great harm when we confuse the very essence of God, which is love, with the very real consequences of rejecting and resisting that love, which creates what we call hell.
I’ll end this chapter analysis with a quote I liked (in light of the parable of the two sons):
Our badness can separate us from God’s love,
that’s clear.
But our goodness can separate us from God’s love as well.
Neither son understands that the father’s love was never about any of that. The father’s love cannot be earned, and it cannot be taken away.
After rambling on some random rabbit trail about “mystics” and the “Force,” Bell asserts that “Jesus is bigger than any one religion.”
Ah, durr. But then we get to Jesus’ claim in John 14 of being “the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”
Remember that acquaintance of mine I quoted from Goodreads who said that she encountered people more hung up on this statement than on hell? I said I agreed with her.
What he doesn’t say is how, or when, or in what manner the mechanism functions that gets people to God through him.
John 3, John 16.
He doesn’t even state that those coming to the Father through him will ever know that they are coming exclusively through him.
John 14:6-7; John 17.
He simply claims that whatever God is doing in the world to know and redeem and love and restore the world is happening through him.”
I agree with the overall idea of the statement but I’m not sure it’s as “simplistic” as Bell makes it sound. Jesus has consistently proven to be accessible to the multitudes in a simple manner with a highly complex undertone in his parables and teaching—so complex that even the disciples who were with him rarely “got” what he was speaking of without Jesus having to explain himself first. So let’s watch Bell tackle Jesus’ bold statement of being the only way to God using mental gymnastics (because really that’s what it feels like to me).
And so the passage is exclusive, deeply so, insisting on Jesus alone as the way to God. But it is an exclusivity on the other side of inclusivity.
Dude, what?!
After explaining that exclusivity defines the traditional view of hell (“in or out”) and inclusivity is universalism (all roads lead to the same God), Bell says:
And there is an exclusivity on the other side of inclusivity. This kind insists that Jesus is the way, but holds tightly to the assumption that the all-embracing, saving love of this particular Jesus the Christ will of course include all sorts of unexpected people from across the cultural spectrum.
As soon as the door is opened to Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, and Baptists from Cleveland, many Christians become very uneasy, saying that then Jesus doesn’t matter anymore, the cross is irrelevant, it doesn’t matter what you believe, and so forth.
Not true.
Absolutely, unequivocally, unalterably not true.
What Jesus does is declare that he,
and he alone,
is saving everybody.
And then he leave the door way, way open. Creating all sorts of possibilities. He is as narrow as himself and as wide as the universe.
He is as exclusive as himself and as inclusive as containing every single particle of creation.
Bell is careful to write “Jesus is the way” omitting the oft-used word “only” or forgoing the italicization of “the.” (Just an observation. Jesus does not use the word “only” here although one could argue that it’s implied.) The problem here, which Bell raises by bringing in Buddhism, Hinduism, Islam, etc., is that Bell affirms Jesus is present in all of these different religions that claim to be salvation or divine attainment in some form. It’s like reverse religious universalism, in a way. Instead of all paths leading to the same God, Bell appears to be saying that Jesus is present in all of these paths.
So Jesus is the prophet Mohammad to Islam.
Jesus is nirvana—the place of Enlightenment.
Jesus is Vishnu, Brahma, Shiva, Shakti, or any of the number of Hindu gods.
For some reason, this idea seems really offensive to me. As if Jesus isn’t accessible in his own form, in his own way, he must materialize in different forms like a shape-shifter of the universe. I think I’d be just as offended if a Muslim told me that Mohammed was a shape-shifter who appears as Judeo-Christian Messiah to bring salvation to Jews and Western Gentiles. My mind can’t fully grasp the idea Bell is throwing out here.
Again, we’re back to religious universalism: yes, all paths do lead to the same God because as Bell seems to say since Jesus is present in all these religions, everyone in these religions reaches the same God.
It’s the most astounding mental gymnastics I’ve ever encountered.
Jehovah God, the Old Testament God was clear that many of the gods and idols that non-Israelites set up were not Him and that He was not present or blessing any of those rituals. (“Baal” is a notable god that Jehovah had a special holy hatred for.) Jehovah was pretty exclusive about that.
But the inclusivity on the side of exclusivity is that He was willing to draft Gentiles who were willing to believe in him (Rahab, Ruth, and Job being prominent examples).
There’s your mental gymnastics from me, but I think Bell wins the gold medal in this competition.
So how does any of this explanation of who Jesus is and what he’s doing connect with heaven, hell, and the fate of every single person who has ever lived?
Bell’s essential answer is that since Jesus is everywhere and in everything, believers in Christ need not worry about the eternal destination of others because “God’s got this.” (Not a Bell quote.)
We are not threatened by this,
surprised by this,
or offended by this.
Sometimes people use his name;
other times they don’t.
I agree that Jesus can be encountered in different ways by different people and perhaps he may not even be known to some people as Jesus or Yeshua. But we must also consider that Jesus warned his disciples about false prophets in Matthew 7 and Matthew 24 (speaking of exclusivity, one of those verses has Jesus mentioning “the elect” whoever and whatever that means).
So while “none of us have cornered the market on Jesus, and none of us ever will,” I don’t believe Jesus was as vague or confusing with his statements as Bell makes him out to be. I do, however, wholeheartedly agree with the following quote from Bell:
It is our responsibility to be extremely careful about making negative, decisive, lasting judgments about people’s eternal destines.
So is Gandhi in hell? Do we know this for certain? No, I don’t think we do. But we can all hazard guesses for now.
Additional note:
Bell goes on to say that Jesus says “he ‘did not come to judge the world, but to save the world’ (John 12)” but if you continue to read on in that same passage, Jesus speaks of an ultimate judge (the assumption from other Biblical texts is God the Father) who issues judgment or (as the NIV puts it) condemnation. Another way Bell is able to raise questions and ably dodge them because his readers are unable to ask all of the questions he raises by completely ignoring their existence.
[This is part XI of a multi-part series on Rob Bell’s book, Love Wins. Note: Chapter 6 is two parts.]
Image from communities.canada.com
I really want to push through chapter 6 for fear I’ll dwell here for days on end like I did with chapters 3 and 4 (which were major chapters really), but I do have a few things I want to point out and we’ll see where things take us.
Bell is pretty straightforward in this chapter, and as the title says, Bell indeed talks about rocks. He details the story in Exodus 17 in which the Israelities are thirsty and can’t find water. God tells Moses to strike the rock and the rock produces water. Bell and his readers jump to I Corinthians 10 in which Paul explains to his audience that “those who traveled out of Egypt ‘drank from the spiritual rock that accompanies them, and that rock was Christ.'”
Paul, however, reads another story in the story, insisting that Christ was present in that moment, that Christ was providing the water they needed to survive—that Jesus was giving, quenching, sustaining.
Jesus was, he says, the rock.
According to Paul,
Jesus was there.
Without anybody using his name.
Without anybody saying that it was him.
Without anybody acknowledging just what—or, more precisely, who—it was.
… Paul finds Jesus there,
in that rock,
because Paul finds Jesus everywhere.
From this brief passage, one gets the sense that Bell is making two points here:
The Israelites were saved in the wilderness by Christ who is the “living water” (John 4:10-15), which Bell really could’ve and, in order to strengthen his argument, should’ve mentioned here. Before the Israelites even knew who was saving them from physical death, the Messiah was already present providing them with the water of life.
Christ can be present in nearly anything, anywhere; the implication being that the saving work of Christ can be present in almost any form. This starts to get loaded.
Here’s the deleted portion of the previous passage:
Paul’s interpretation that Christ was present in the Exodus raises the question:
Where else has Christ been present?
When else?
With who else?
How else?
This opens up a can of worms, in a way. In Velvet Elvis, Bell is careful to show that Paul finds secular truth in Greek philosophy and poetry and doesn’t hesitate to incorporate it into one of his sermons.
[Paul] is speaking at a place called Mars Hill (which would be a great name for a church) and trying to explain to a group of people who believe in hundreds of thousands of gods that there is really only one God who made everything and everybody. At one point he’s talking about how God made us all, and he says to them, “As some of your own poets have said, ‘We are his offering.'” (ENDNOTE!: Acts 17:28) He quotes their own poets. And their poets don’t even believe in the God he’s talking about. They were talking about some other god and how we are all the offspring of that god, and Paul takes their statement and makes it about his God. Amazing.
Paul doesn’t just affirm the truth here; he claims it for himself. He doesn’t care who said it or who they were even saying it about. What they said was true, and so he claims it as his own.” (Velvet Elvis, p. 079)
And I’m with Bell with the ability to affirm truth wherever it is because God exhibits truth and truth is an extension of God.
But I tread carefully on the ability to find Jesus’ saving work in anything because God can do anything and use anything He pleases for salvation. But the Bible is clear that God isn’t present in everything so Bell’s questions make me a bit iffy on the ways Christ has been present, can be present, and in what ways he can be present. I won’t make any definitive assertions except to say that while I don’t believe God is present in sin or evil, He can (and often does!) use the outcome for good that can lead to salvation.
I’ve been thinking that it’s next to impossible to be an American (or a Westerner for that matter) and not be judgmental. We pride ourselves on “judgmentalism.” With shows like American Idol, Survivor, and X-Factor, Americans play judge and jury on contestants. We are the civilized form of ancient Romans eagerly watching which contestant will dodge the tiger each week.
On Goodreads, I gave Rob Bell’s book Love Wins three stars. I might have given it 2.5 if I had the option.
This Journey Is My Own 