Tag: Christians

Self-Esteem and Self-Confidence: Shedding “Worm” Theology

~ K ~ 12 Comments
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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.

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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” →

Love Wins Analysis: Chapter 8: The End Is Here

~ K ~ Leave a comment

[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.

Love Wins Analysis: Chapter 7: The Good News Is Better Than That

~ K ~ Leave a comment

[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.

It just is.

Love Wins Analysis: Chapter 6: There Are Rocks Everywhere (Part II)

~ K ~ 3 Comments

[This is part XII of a multi-part series on Rob Bell’s book, Love Wins. Note: Chapter 6 is two parts; read Chapter 6, part I here.]

Image from http://www.galacticbinder.com

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.

Love Wins Analysis: Chapter 6: There Are Rocks Everywhere (Part I)

~ K ~ Leave a comment

[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:

  1. 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.
  2. 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.

Love Wins Analysis: Chapter 5: Dying to Live

~ K ~ 2 Comments

[This is part X of a multi-part series on Rob Bell’s book, Love Wins.]

Image from http://www.turnbacktogod.com

Chapter 5 is a heckuva lot easier to summarize:

Jesus died and rose again. As a result of that action, he has forever reconciled us to God the Father.

This is not controversial stuff.

As a result, there’s not much that I need to ponder over or challenge because in this chapter, Bell lays out Jesus’ sacrifice and he does it in a way that is typically Bell-esque: with original analogies and beautiful images. (When Bell says something clearly, it’s like bursting into a magnificent, clear blue sky after having endured dark shadows and lingering gray storm clouds.)

Bell makes an interesting point that I’ve never heard of before (but find interesting): he speaks of John (the Gospel writer) numbering signs all throughout his gospel. In John 11, Lazarus’s resurrection from the dead is the seventh sign of Jesus outlined in the gospel.

Now ask: Is the number seven significant in the Bible?
Does it occur in any other prominent place?

Well, yes, it does. In the poem that begins the Bible. The poem speaks of seven days of creation.

But there’s one more sign in John’s Gospel. In chapter 20 Jesus rises from the dead. Now that’s a sign. The eighth sign in the book of John. Jesus rises from the dead in a garden. Which, of course, takes us back to Genesis, to the first creation in a . . . garden.

I’d never thought of things that way. Reading that blew my mind. Either John was a very clever fiction writer or God is the most amazing storyteller I’ve ever read.

What is John telling us?
It’s the eighth sign, the first day of the new week, the first day of the new creation. The resurrection of Jesus inaugurates a new creation, one free from death, and it is bursting forth in Jesus himself right here in the midst of the first creation.

… John is telling a huge story,
one about God rescuing all of creation.

I love it. John continually points his readers back to Genesis, constantly linking Jesus to God the Father, Creator of all things from the get-go (Jn 1:1) and here it is even in the final chapters of John and I totally missed it. It’s beautiful to see.

As I’m breathless and taken away by this beauty of discovering the symbolism in everything Jesus does, Bell kind of ruins it for me in “wait-a-minute-this-is-a-book-about-heaven-hell-and-the-fate-of-every-person-who-ever-lived-moment.”

How many people, if you were to ask them why they’ve left church, would give an answer something along the lines of, “It’s just so . . . small”?

No one I know really. They’d have tons of other reasons but it wouldn’t be that.

Of course.
A gospel that leaves out its cosmic scope will always feel small.
A gospel that has as its chief message avoiding hell or not sinning will never be the full story.
A gospel that repeatedly, narrowly affirms and bolsters the “in-ness” of one group at the expense of the “out-ness” of another group will not be true to the story that includes “all things and people in heaven and on earth.”

And I think to myself, this is not the gospel. No one I know or have ever heard in Biblical Protestantism (ok, and Anabaptism) preaches a message like this. (I’m not sure whether to classify this as a false dichotomy.) The main message of the gospel, which can often be “ye must be born again,” is always Christ and Him crucified.

Why was Christ crucified? To reconcile us to God.
Why do we need to be reconciled to God? That’s a question, or more accurately, a tension we can be free to leave fully intact.

Love Wins Analysis: Chapter 4: Does God Get What God Wants? (Part III)

~ K ~ 2 Comments

[This is part VIII of a multi-part series on Rob Bell’s book, Love Wins. Note: Chapter 4 has been broken up into four parts. Chapter 4, part I can be found here and part II can be found here.]

The other issue I have with Bell here about the talk of restoration, renewal, and if you will, “second chances,” is that gives people no real need to come to Jesus. If all things will be restored in the end anyway, what does it matter if I murder someone I don’t like? Even if I get fried in the electric chair, I still eventually go to heaven maybe after a brief punishment for my sins.

Although hell is an unlikable place to be or to think about (if you take it seriously), the purpose of it is for judgment. When a criminal is deemed guilty in a court of law and sentenced to life in prison, he is sent to jail until death. Hell is the jail that never ends.

But let’s take a step back. And we’ve got to follow Bell’s suppositions (maybe? he is careful to never outright say he believes these things) about what ultimately brings God glory in the end: restoration, reconciliation, and renewal.

Think of a terrible, gruesome time during the 20th century. I’ll give you a hint of where I’m going with this: think of a specific dictator who murdered tens of millions of people. There are at least three you can choose from.

1 . . .

2 . . .

This is kind of like an annoying email forward now, isn’t it?

3.

I’ll choose Hitler since Stalin and Tse-Tung (Zedong) don’t seem to strike the same kind of terror into Westerners’ hearts.

Adolf Hitler is estimated to be responsible for at least 12 million murders during World War II. When Hitler shot himself in the head on April 30, 1945, his soul plunged into eternity.

Now, tell me: do you think it brings God more glory to simply excuse such heinous and irresponsible actions and allow Hitler into heaven on the basis of restoration and reconciliation or does it bring God more glory to judge Hitler and punish him for the atrocities he committed while he was on this earth? Because remember, he was never tormented in the way that he tormented so many others (not just the Jewish and the Polish but anyone who either opposed him or didn’t fit his ideal Aryan race).

Maybe I’m a cold, heartless bitch, but I want God to make Hitler pay for the things that he never had to pay for on earth. It’s a little disappointing to think that Hitler could toy with the lives of 12 million people and after death still be reconciled to God after maybe a “season” in hell.

God is God, and yes, He could totally restore Adolf Hitler to himself in the era of restoration to come, but I just don’t see humans (who would have exacted the harshest sentences possible on Hitler before executing him) being more lenient than God.

Then Bell says things that make me wonder, Does this jive with scripture?

“To be clear, again, an untold number of serious disciples of Jesus across hundreds of years have assumed, affirmed, and trusted that no one can resist God’s pursuit forever, because God’s love will eventually melt even the hardest of hearts.”

Maybe. But again, it doesn’t necessarily mean that it remains that way forever. I think specifically of Pharaoh who had a rather hard heart against the people of Israel who wanted to be freed and even “repented” (!) of his temporarily “melted” heart (after a series of wearying plagues) and decided to go after them as they made their way out of Egypt. The Bible gives no indication that Pharaoh ever repented of his re-hardened heart.

“Could God say to someone truly humbled, broken, and desperate for reconciliation, ‘Sorry, too late’? Many have refused to accept the scenario in which somebody is pounding on the door, apologizing, repenting, and asking God to be let in, only to hear God say through the keyhole: ‘Door’s locked. Sorry. If you have been here earlier, I could have done something. But now, it’s too late.’

As it’s written in 2 Timothy 2, God ‘cannot disown himself.'”

These many who have refused need to reread the Parable of the Ten Virgins in Matthew 25:1-13. Not that I like the idea of a door being shut permanently, but if we’re going off of scripture, we have to seriously consider what it says.

“At the center of the Christian tradition since the first church have been a number who insist that history is not tragic, hell is not forever, and love, in the end, wins and all will be reconciled to God.”

And in Christianity, there are some people who choose not to directly align themselves with views they believe so that they may not be tied directly with these specific beliefs therefore they speak of themselves in generalities so that it is almost impossible to pin them down with what they believe.

Day 16 of Enjoying God: Trust

~ K ~ Leave a comment
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Trust isn’t necessarily so much an attribute of God that I need to enjoy as much as I need to employ this quality in myself to enjoy God more.

Issues of trust also lead into issues of control. The thing is, I’m a control freak, and I have this crazy idea that I know things better than God does. (Also see Day 12: Contentment.) If God would just give me control of this, everything would turn out okay. I don’t ever say this out loud but through my actions, I like to tell Jesus, “Hey, buddy, pull over and let me drive. I think I can navigate this messy New York traffic a whole lot better than you can.”

To be clichéd and quote Carrie Underwood’s 2005 hit song, I need to let “Jesus Take the Wheel.” In my life, Jesus is akin to a seasoned NYC taxicab driver who can get me to where I need to go while minimizing all the bumps along the way. Sometimes, like in a NYC taxicab, I use my imaginary emergency brake because I think I could do a whole lot better but Jesus knows what he is doing and (unlike real NYC taxicabs) he never puts me in unnecessary danger.

The crazy thing about the Christian life is that believers in Jesus have a hard time handing over the lease on their lives to the man they call their Lord and Savior. However, these same people have very little problem handing over their lives to a pilot (they’ve never met and don’t even know) on a plane.

Perhaps it’s time for me to place at least as much trust in Someone I claim to have a personal relationship with as the unknown guy who takes my plane 39,000 feet in the air and then safely lands it.

Lord or Savior?

~ K ~ 2 Comments

Thinking of a tweet a friend sent me a couple of days ago when I asked what was the difference between Jesus being Lord and Savior:

Savior & Lord have 2 diff meanings. I think the argument is that if you only want Jesus as Savior, but not Lord, then is he really your Savior? Is Jesus your fire insurance or is he really the Lord over your life BECAUSE he saved you from the pit?

If I’m really honest, Jesus is fire insurance. When someone is Lord over one’s life, they can also lord over it. I don’t believe Jesus is intrusive like that but somehow I need to be able to let Jesus rule over ever centimeter of my life if he wanted to. Every dark corner that hides, every bright light that shines: finances, relationships, career… give everything over to him.

Having only fire insurance sounds much better.

The Armor of Pretentious Spirituality & the Shield of Piousness

~ K ~ 3 Comments

A friend said this to me on Twitter today:

I do think people are dishonest in general about their ‘spirituality.’

I have to agree with him. And I can’t help wonder why that is.

This statement forced me to look at my own spirituality. I like to think that I’m rather “real” when it comes to my Christian life. Too often I’m frustrated by people who try to act like they have it all together just because they have Jesus in their lives and I’m always comparing myself mercilessly to people who seem particularly pious and pray and read their Bibles all the time.

On the contrary, I also look at the people who practice yoga religiously or listen to the teachings of Eckhart Tolle and wonder if they’ve discovered some inner peace that I still find myself seeking.

So I’ve come to the conclusion that we all put on a front to some extent. There are days (perhaps sometimes weeks!) when I’ve got this spiritual connection going, some amazing mountaintop relationship with God and I really am a prayer warrior and in touch with a power greater than myself.

Then there are days (and weeks!) that go by when I don’t pray, get angry with God, feel lost as though I’m stumbling through life just trying to life in the physical, and going through the motion of attending church because it’s what I do and not necessarily because I want to. (Is that right to do? No.)

So it’s time for me to strip off the armor of pretentious spirituality and put down the shield of piousness:

  • I do not go to church every Sunday. Catholic guilt plagues me afterward but it’s true. I like my sleep more than I like fellowshipping or worshipping with the saints.
  • I do not formally pray every day. If I pray at all, it might be a quick “Lord, please make this migraine go away” but I don’t get down on my knees every night regularly and pray for my family, your family, everyone’s needs, and world peace. I sometimes formally pray but more often than not, I don’t. And more often than not, I forget. And even more often than that, I just don’t want to.
  • I take the Lord’s name in vain occasionally. (Sorry for the following, God.) I’ve caught myself saying a “Lord have mercy” or “Oh my, God” when it’s not necessary or directed to God. It doesn’t happen often and I try to get around it by saying “Heaven, have mercy” but that just sounds silly afterward.
  • I do not like to fellowship with other believers on most days. Some Christians love nothing more than good Christian fellowship all the time. Great for them. I prefer to be alone or around unbelievers. For some reason, I feel the need to pretend like everything’s fine around other Christians. Going to Bible study this summer was heart-wrenching for me as I spent month after month discovering I was not pregnant and not feeling like I could really share that with a group of women who were pregnant or already had kids (for the most part). I always left Bible study feeling worse off than when I arrived so I stopped going or helped with childcare.
  • Reading tons of theological books does not make me a theological maven. I’m reading three books on theology, God’s love, and the Bible and I feel more filled with head knowledge and no closer to any heart knowledge. I wonder if a return to the basics of Jesus Christ and the removal of deep reformed theology from my brain would help but I don’t know how to go back.
  • I wonder if non-Christians have it better than I do. Hate on Deepak Chopra all you want but the man doesn’t complain about unhappiness. And Oprah seems to be doing all right…
  • I question my own beliefs:
    • Jesus ascended into heaven bodily? Um, wouldn’t he explode once he reached a certain altitude?
    • Jesus is returning and after that, no more sin and world peace? When? Will it ever happen? Is that just a fairy tale?
    • It’s wrong to romantically love someone who is of the same gender?
    • God created Ryan Seacrest? (Just kidding.)
  • I question God’s purpose for me. Constantly. Why am I here? I mean, me specifically. You have a different purpose than I do. What am I supposed to accomplish before I die? Is the afterlife really peaceful?
  • And the most basic question of all: Am I a person who really, truly loves Jesus and would sacrifice ALL to follow him?

The answer to that last question is no. And if you’re reading this, you’re probably answering similarly if you’re honest with yourself. By the way, if you still think you’d sacrifice all to follow Jesus then let me challenge you do to this right now:

Sell your house,
Sell your SUV,
Sell your stock,
Sell your security,
And give it to the poor.¹

Won’t do/haven’t done that? Yeah, your answer’s the same as mine.

Perhaps the way back to genuinely following Christ is to strip off the facades we wear. Maybe if I showed up at church and asked someone how he was doing and he responded honestly, “A tough week but I’m hanging in there” rather than the standard “Just fine,” perhaps we’d exhibit a bit more Christ-likeness.

I love Mark Driscoll’s ministry and I think he’s done a lot to reach others for Christ in the 21st century, but the machismo thing bothers me. Sorry, I can’t quite picture Jesus going to Monday Night RAW or cheering on guys beating each other senseless in the UFC. On the contrary (which is probably Driscoll’s real point), I don’t think Jesus would’ve been a pansy flower child flashing the peace sign and getting high in the middle of a muddy field.

Jesus is the sovereign Lord of the universe. During his time on earth, he exhibited emotion and didn’t pretend to be something he was not. When Lazarus died, the Lamb of God felt the real sting of death and wept for his friend (before resurrecting him!). When money changers were desecrating the temple of God, Jesus displayed righteous anger in preserving a sanctuary that was supposed to be kept holy. And right before Jesus faced the cruelest death anyone could face, fear flowed through his body as he pleaded three times with his heavenly Father to take the task at hand away from him (before submitting himself to God’s will).

Wow. Sadness, anger, and fear. All from the one whom Christians call their Savior. Jesus didn’t pretend to be okay. Jesus wasn’t all macho like, “Yo, dudes, I got this. No sweat.” Not even with the apostles, his closest friends, who he asked to stay up with him before Judas betrayed him. Jesus was real.

And if Jesus was real, why do believers in him keep acting so damn fake?

¹Quoted from Derek Webb’s “Rich Young Ruler”

Food for thought #6: A New Kind of Christianity

~ K ~ 6 Comments

The God Question

McLaren starts out this section by—what seems to me—as apologies for God’s atrocities:

Now, I am in no way interested in excusing or defending divine smiting, genocidal conquest, or global quasi-geocidal flooding; I’m just saying that even if these are the crimes of Elohim/LORD, they are far less serious crimes than those of Theos. (p. 99)

Then McLaren starts in on explaining how God isn’t actually violent but since people see God as violent, they act out how they see God. (Conversely, if we all saw God as loving, we’d all be loving to one another.) He uses an analogy of math concepts revealed in textbooks during the course of a person’s schooling as an example of how humans understand God: at first we learn very basic concepts since we are so immature but then we learn very complex concepts because humans have matured in their understanding of God. And as icing on the cake, McLaren takes a cheap (and distasteful) potshot at Christians who eat meat, subscribe to a just-war theory, and use fossil fuels. (For someone who talks a lot about being humble and mild-mannered, his snark and disdain for Christians who think differently than him is quite apparent in this book. I’ll admit, however, I am guilty of the same toward him now.)

The more I read McLaren’s theories, the more I cringe. The God of the Bible is loving, merciful, gracious, and slow to anger. But the God of the Bible is also a just, righteous, and jealous God. He is not McLaren’s caricature of a bloodthirsty “Theos” but McLaren’s happy-go-lucky description of Elohim is neither the full picture. McLaren often attacks Christians in his book, painting them as fundamental extremists or right-wing Republicans. It’s like saying all Democrats are treehuggers. It’s tough to be open-minded to other people’s opinions or “new” ideas when they brand you with a scarlet letter just for identifying yourself with the same religious group. I am neither a fundamental extremist nor a right-wing Republican yet McLaren often makes me feel as though my view of the Bible makes me part of that group. He couldn’t be more wrong.

I’m easily getting tired of McLaren now. He worries that Christians will use the story of the flood (Noah) to justify genocide [insert eyeroll here] then comes up with this:

Yes, I find a character named God who sends a flood that destroys all humanity except for Noah’s family, but that’s trivial compared to a deity who tortures the greater part of humanity forever in infinite eternal conscious torment, three words that need to be read slowly and thoughtfully to feel their full import. (Endnote: For this reason, I would grimly prefer atheism to be true than for the Greco-Roman Theos narrative to be true. And for this reason, I joyfully celebrate the narrative centered in Jesus as a better alternative to both.) (p. 99, 272)

[insert facepalm here] The ironic thing about the “narrative centered in Jesus” was that Jesus is the one who introduced the concept of hell, or “eternal conscious torment,” as we know it today. What Bible is McLaren reading? (Is he reading one at all?) Continue reading “Food for thought #6: A New Kind of Christianity” →

Food for thought #3: A New Kind of Christianity

~ K ~ 3 Comments

“What is the overarching story line of the Bible?” McLaren asks. His response, which really comes across as more of an authoritative answer in some areas, is that current Christianity reads the Bible through the lens of an Aristotelian-Platonic universe. He calls it a Greco-Roman story line where Christians see God as something akin to Zeus or Jupiter—a perfect heavenly being that is ready to strike down flawed creatures on a whim—and if certain creatures never reach the Platonic ideal of heaven then they are sent down to a Greek Hades, a hell, “imagery misappropriated from Jesus’ parables and sermons.” (p. 44)

McLaren may have a point. Perhaps Christians read the Bible through the lens of this Greco-Roman narrative, but it’s worth pointing out that Jesus’ story developed within a Roman context. (Pilate? Caesar, anyone?) And that the New Testament was written in Greek. As a result, I disagree with McLaren that this Greco-Roman narrative is necessarily bad. Instead, I argue that the Greco-Roman narrative provides a form of context as a result of being influenced by the Roman Empire and the original language of the New Testament. This influence is inescapable.

McLaren also makes the point that we should read the Bible for the Judaic narrative that it is—as Jesus would have read it. That is a fair and valid point as well. Therein lies the challenge: reading the Bible for what it is without inserting a post-Jesus historical lens (ie, reading the Bible through a post-Reformation lens or a post-Council of Trent lens).

Food for thought: From Brian McLaren’s A New Kind of Christianity

~ K ~ 2 Comments

A quote I found interesting:

When you talk to the people who walk down the aisle at a Billy Graham crusade to make a “first-time Christian commitment,” who say something called the “sinner’s prayer” in response to an evangelistic invitation, or who join a new church, you discover that over 90 percent of them are already lifelong churchgoers. That means that over 90 percent of the so-called new converts come from the 40 percent of the population who are already “in the choir,” and less than 10 percent come from the “unchurched majority.” So we have a lot of Baptists becoming Pentecostals, and Catholics becoming Episcopalians, and so on, but surprisingly few “unchurched people” getting connected with the church. (p. 4)

McLaren’s point is interesting in light of this piece from the Huffington Post, “Listen Up, Evangelicals: What Non-Christians Want You To Hear”: http://is.gd/aaCCI. An observation from this piece that struck me:

“I have no problem whatsoever with God or Jesus – only Christians.”

Sad. I have heard this from other Christians as well.

Midnight ramblings

~ K ~ 3 Comments

When it comes to looking at other female Christians, I’ve always felt like an outsider. Through the lens of my “doo doo” eyes, these females tend to be white, wholesome, and happy. Now that I run with the 30 and older crowd, they also have babies or toddlers. I tell myself I’d die if I were a mommy blogger. I don’t mind being a blogger who happens to be a mom but adding “mommy blogger” to my job description would just about kill me.

Or maybe not. Because I have no problem being a sellout because I am that desperate for acceptance. On a forum I frequent, someone posted a link to a job description as a reporter for a popular politically conservative website. I’m not particularly conservative politically but I’m not liberal enough for the Huffington Post either. But I’d spout conservative principles if I had to just for the opportunity to write for a living. Unfortunately, on the liberal side, I’d only go so far since the abortion issue is a big problem for me. If I could blog as a pro-life liberal, I’d be okay on that end.

My counselor in Kentucky used to say to me and my husband, “People desire two things in life: to be right and to be accepted.” I so would prefer to be accepted than to be right. If all the conservatives hated my political views but thought I was an otherwise cool chick, I’d be ecstatic. I don’t care if my friends think I’m a total idiot as long as they love me anyway.

The only time I’ve ever felt accepted by a group in my entire life was when I joined a sorority at the first (secular) college I attended. In a sense, I feel like I earned the ability to be accepted. I left the college shortly after so my feeling of acceptance by my sorority sisters was short-lived.

The feeling of acceptance decreased ever since. I attended a fundie Christian college for a few years where I stood out like a sore thumb in various ways: my shirts were too tight or too see-through (even though I didn’t think they were all that bad); I didn’t have a plethora of skirts or dresses I could rotate through; I didn’t look or think as wholesome as those other homeschooled Christian girls; I wasn’t as naive (or maybe I was). I moved joyfully to the melody of hymns during church services while the few friends I had desperately crowded around me to make sure I didn’t get in trouble for moving in time to the rhythm of the music. (I called myself “Bapticostal” during that time.) What was wrong with dancing to music? Didn’t David dance joyfully while worshiping the Lord? Gosh, I was such a freak.

I still think of myself as a freak. Continue reading “Midnight ramblings” →

Final thoughts in the emergent movement series

~ K ~ 1 Comment

People not directly involved in the emergent movement likely think that it’s something that doesn’t affect them. Not true.

The emergent movement and its connection to postmodern philosophy is having a vital effect on the way Christians and non-Christians alike think.

I, for one, find myself constantly questioning things in Christianity. I’m very open and honest about my struggles in this respect. I used to live under the veil of pretending to have it all together. I’d rather err on the side of being too broken than being too pretentious. (“A broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou will not despise.” —Psalm 51:17)

Questioning one’s faith is typical within emerging Christianity. Question and reasoning can be helpful to the health of someone’s Christian life. It challenges a person’s faith and forces them to understand, reconcile, and know what he or she believes.

Where emergent Christianity takes things too far is that it can get too deconstructivist and undermine things that, as a believer, should not be undermined (eg, the deity of Christ, the necessity of his finished work on the cross). Those things should not persist as constant questions but rather, should be resolved and the topic should move on.

Emergent Christianity also tends to go in circles on questions. Those in the “conversation” contend that questions are healthy. Yes, to a point. Questions should be asked in the quest for answers. To simply throw questions out for the sake of engaging in constant conversation is ultimately fruitless because it accomplishes nothing.

Rob Bell, in Velvet Elvis, offers the Jewish culture of answering a question with a question as proof that it’s okay to go around and around with questions. I counter that answering a question with a question in Jewish culture is meant to be an end within itself. The answer (in the form of a question) is not meant to lead to endless conversation but as a way of stating a point of finality while leading the inquisitor to muse further on the answer in his or her own mind.

So when it comes to questioning things within Christianity, I have accepted this as part of postmodern and emerging thought. Where I stop, however, is that I seek answers and definitions to my questions.

Along with postmodern thought is the idea that everything is relative. This idea of relativity can be found in the emergent movement. However, within the framework of Biblical Christianity, there are absolutes. (I believe absolutes exist outside of the Bible but I’ll stick to my topic of Christianity.) Since Jesus was absolute and authoritative with many of this statements (“I am the way, the truth, and the life, no man comes to the Father except by me” —John 14:6), there is no room for relativity. Again, believers of the Bible should not be questioning whether Jesus really meant what he said. While Jesus was figurative with many of his statements, he was also very literal. To take his literal meanings, distort them, and teach those distortions as valid Christian thought is dangerous.

Please don’t misunderstand me. Most believers go through times in their lives when they questions the basics and fundamentals of Christianity. The problem is when people in leadership begin teaching these doubts, assisting in undermining Christianity in their own congregations. If a person chooses not to believe in Christianity, questions it, and tries to point out its weaknesses, that’s one thing. To do the same while claiming to be a believer and teach others to do the same is wrong.

So while I understand there are many areas in life that are full of grey, Christians should not deny that some things are plainly black and white (figuratively speaking). Emergent Christians can seek to blur the lines, giving the illusion that black and white is or can be grey.

Emerging church excels, however, in taking Christianity to the 21st century. I get frustrated when I hear Christians knocking other Christians’ choice of worship. A common complaint I’ve heard is that churches have become a type of theater: things are done with video, multimedia slides, and lighting effects. These things are dismissed as unnecessary and purposeless. I view these things as a valid and appropriate means of reaching postmodern American society. While some people may enjoy that “old time religion,” for others, it does not reach them. I am with Paul when he says “I became all things to all men that I might by all means save some.” (I Corinthians 9:22) There is nothing sinful in using video, slides, overhead projectors, and the like. Simply because it’s not a person’s style of worship doesn’t mean it’s wrong.

The argument along with that is that good gospel preaching can stand on its own and there is no need for visual anything. While that may be true, visuals are a supplement, not a replacement. I am baffled by Christians who are willing to embrace technology in every other aspect of their lives but insist on keeping it out of the church. To reach a 21st century generation, Christianity cannot continue to function in 19th century mode. It is possible to adapt to the culture without sinning in order to evangelize. This is the area where the emerging church has challenged the ecclesial institution and can help make it better. Some Christians call it becoming “worldly,” however, I see it as taking Christ’s message and making it practical and relevant.

And that’s how the emerging church challenges me: how do I make 1st century concepts and teachings from a Middle Eastern culture practical and relevant 20 centuries later in a postmodern American society? It’s a question I don’t have an answer to but hope to discover that answer someday. (Even if the answer comes in the form of a question.)

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Note: I typed this entire post on my BlackBerry so please excuse any spelling or grammatical errors.