If anyone out there is interested in reading a 20 page response and commentary on Norman Wirzba's book, Living the Sabbath, there might be one found here.
Blessings
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Bonhoeffer's words for Advent
We shall ponder the incomprehensibility of our lot and be assailed by the question of why, over and above the darkness already enshrouding humanity, we should be subjected to the bitter anguish of a separation whose purpose we fail to understand...And then, just when we can scarcely withstand it, the Christmas message comes to tell us that all our ideas are wrong, and that what we take to be evil and dark is really good and light because it comes from God. Our eyes are at fault, that is all. God is in the manger, wealth in poverty, light in darkness, succor in abandonment. No evil can befall us; whatever men may do to us, they cannot but serve the God who is secretly revealed as love and rules the world and our lives.
-Letter to fiancée Maria von Wedemeyer from prison, December 13, 1943
-Letter to fiancée Maria von Wedemeyer from prison, December 13, 1943
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Pain and Suffering
(The following is an excerpt from a longer paper responding to the book Living the Sabbath, by Norman Wirzba.)
As Christians we are servants of a dying world, a world ravaged by the fall, ravaged by sin. A world that is full of injustice, pain, misery, suffering, and despair. Real life is hard. Real living is difficult. However, what we fail to see is that, though the pain is real, and not to be made light of, the despair is of our own making. The problem lies in how we understand the world: the presuppositions we carry concerning ourselves, our ‘natural and inalienable rights’ that we feel should naturally be a consequence of all the good we do in this world where there are so many worse sinners than us. Wirzba is quick to point this out, and reduce the problem to its core:
Especially in an era of individualism, we are readily tempted to reduce suffering to whatever impedes our freedom or brings us displeasure and discomfort. Think here of the common complaint that life does not go as we planned or expected. It is easy to interpret events as evil or to claim that the world we live in is rigged against our personal success. But is it really? The problem with this anthropocentric, even egocentric approach is that it assumes that the whole of reality should be geared to the satisfaction of our narrow wishes. This assumption is deeply at odds with the creation narrative that proclaims God’s [Sabbath rest] as creation’s ultimate goal, and with the experience of Job, who learns through his pain and suffering that the goods of this world are not tailored to his interests and that the scope of God’s concern extends far beyond humanity to include all of creation. Our best efforts to establish an accountant’s ledger of good and evil will often miss the mark. (79)
As Christians, we are servants of a dying world. Our purpose is to be a light, a city on a hill, leading the way for people who are fallen, broken and full of despair, bringing them to a place where pain and suffering are given meaning, and context. As Christians, we offer the only way of understanding pain and suffering that leads to hope and peace. It is simple. If there is no God, there is no final justice, where all that is evil and bad will be punished. More than that, if there is no God, there is no such thing as “evil and bad”. There is no fixed, absolute standard upon which to base any system of morality. Again, if the individual is king, and the independent mind is the final authority, you have simple chaos. If self and self’s desires are the standard upon which we build our moralities, our ethics, the basis for whether we do this or that where it regards others, then all is relative, and whether I shoot you in the head or bring you flowers doesn’t matter. They are potentially both equally valid actions consistent with the standards established by the reigning authorities: me, myself, and I. In this system, there is no hope for utter and final judgment, and all past atrocities simply become meaningless instances of the individual’s right to choose. If Darwin was right, why was Hitler wrong? In this system the death camps of 1940’s Poland become no better or worse than Mr. Rodgers Neighborhood. Both are equally valid expressions of the individual’s right to choose. And the freedom of the individual to choose as he or she desires, is, as we know, a “natural and inalienable right”. Pain and suffering therefore become meaningless adjectives, unable to hold any real significance.
There are, obviously, major problems with this way of thinking. First, it simply isn’t true. There is a God and He laughs at those who think and act otherwise. Second, it is inconsistent with how the natural mind works. Even pagans understand that what Hitler did was wrong. They understand pain to be painful, and suffering to be difficult. They are real experiences, the meaning of which transcends culture and language and time. This is so because all human beings bear the image of God, and in so doing know, deep down, the difference between good and evil. We know instinctually that shooting your neighbor deserves judgment and some form of justice. And so the disconnect becomes clearer. We want justice and desire punishment for the breaking of moral and civil law. We want the standards that make it possible to determine what is right and what is wrong. These are necessary for any civilization to endure and achieve peace. We want standards that apply across the board, and are a higher authority than our individual freedom to choose. We want the standards, but we don’t want the One who gives the standards, because He Himself is the Standard. So we are left with an inconsistent and dysfunctional society, heading inevitably toward dissolution. A house that is built on sand, no matter how stable it looks, and how close the builders copied the blueprints of the house built on rock, that house will fall. It may take longer for the siding to deteriorate because it borrowed materials from the other house, but it will, and must fall.
As Christians, we are servants to a dying world, a world whose foundation is sand; a society whose moral fiber is borrowed; a people who are blind to the ridiculousness of a Standardless-standard. But their blindness is self-inflicted. They suppress what they know to be true. A real problem arises, though, when the Church, who is not suppressing what she believes, acts in such a way as to offer no hope and no peace. We, as the Church, do this when we minimize the reality of pain and suffering. We know that our God is a God of love, and believe that He has created a world full of joy and delight, and trust that He desires our good in giving us Sabbath rest. But when we minimize pain and suffering, or define the offending events as random, meaningless acts, we betray a heart that does not trust God. We minimize pain by defining it as every instance in which we don’t get what we want. It is at these times that life becomes “hard”. Things are not going are way, and so we bring out our sheets of sanctimonious sackcloth. But this understanding of pain rests on the conviction that our needs, our desires, our wills and choices are the standard to which life must obediently play out. If this is our hermeneutic to interpreting life, then there is no room left for serving others. We need therefore to recover a biblical definition of pain.
The problem in the Church arises from our wanting to protect the holiness of God. There are two available options. Either God is a bystander, watching random and unfortunate acts occur, or He is sovereign, and the author of life, the difficult parts as well as the joyful ones. In the first instance, He is not really God at all, and so therefore if pain is the result of randomness, who cares. What does it matter, for there is no real god able to redeem or give meaning to the pain? But in the second, there is a Father who has created us for a reason. He has fashioned us and breathed life into us, so that we may glorify Him, and share His love with others. It is with this interpretive key that we unlock the meaning of pain and suffering in our lives. When we truly experience hardships, not the disappointments that come from our desires not being fulfilled, but from physical or emotional trials, we are being equipped for communal living. If the whole focus of life is outward, and not inward, every circumstance, and every experience is imbedded with an outward trajectory. The question should not be, “Why am I going through this?” Rather our inquiries should sound like, “What does this trial equip me to do as I live in fellowship with other people who will eventually face similar situations?” And more importantly, “How does this trial create in me and in my life an ability or opportunity to bring glory to the Author of all things, even this trial?” The real problem with pain is not that we experience it, but that we do nothing with it. In attributing it to blind forces of chance, we surround ourselves with purposelessness, and continue to feed the lie that what matters is our own comfort and security. As such pain and suffering become forces that need to be combated, like enemies. We must work hard to fend off the antagonistic attacks of hardships. But, as Wirzba notes:
Pain and suffering should not be cast as “problems” that need to be “explained” or “solved,” eliminated because they represent an affront to the world we would choose or make for ourselves. In fact, it is a mistake to look for a “solution,” since this becomes an excuse to avoid the communal disciplines of care and constancy that enable us together to bear, absorb, and grow through each other’s hurt. (79)
It is at this point that we see the connection between pain and suffering, and Sabbath rest. At first these two might seem to be at odds with one another. If all things in our life are meant to have an outward teleology, then certainly the Sabbath rest God has created for us must be seen in the same way. If Sabbath rest is Gods intention for all of creation, then our pain and our suffering play a part in achieving that end. This is true because the foundation for Sabbath Rest is the Cross of Jesus. Ultimate Pain and Ultimate Suffering was endured for the joy of Sabbath Rest. This act of the God-Man Jesus at once gave meaning to pain and gave purpose to suffering. In the cross of Jesus, and in the daily crosses we ourselves bear, we see Sabbath rest being brought to others. We see Him serving the dying world.
The dying world we inhabit is a system based on violence and death. A world in which the wills of every citizen compete for supremacy can have no other outcome. Wirzba comments,
Christ’s resurrection, as the revelation and overcoming of our death-wielding ways, makes possible a new kind of life, restoring creation to its original intent of participating in God’s own life of joy, peace, and [Sabbath rest]. The resurrection, in short helps us know what Creations is ultimately about as a forgiven and reconciled existence formed in grateful acceptance of gift upon gift. (83)
All of life is a gift from the hand of a Father who knows far more about ‘what is good for us’, and ‘what we really need’ than we ever could. As Christians, we are servants of a dying world. In picking up our cross daily, we are given the tools to appropriately understand the pain we experience, and are given the grace to come along side others and bear their burdens as well. Wirzba continues,
This humbling realization enables authentic thanksgiving and praise. It is also the basis upon which to build practices of forgiveness and reconciliation. Once we learn to appreciate our own lives and those around us as gifts from God, we do not need to enter into bitter struggle and inflict various forms of pain and suffering upon each other. The many relations that feed into our being and literally constitute it can now be embraced and celebrated as so many forms of manna from heaven. (83)
Our natural, unredeemed instinct is to find fault in others for our suffering. The Cross breaks this cycle by exposing the fact that true fault lies in ourselves. We are the fallen race of God-haters, worthy of the flood waters of judgment. But God in His grace has given Sabbath rest to us, His adopted children, through the sacrifice of Jesus. This means two things: first, “we have no right to expect a painless life, because Christ Himself did not” (83). “If the world hated me, they will also hate you.” Secondly, we have been lavished with rest, and when we least deserved it. In this we too have been given the ability, and the responsibility to give rest to others. This is done primarily when they need rest, or in other words, when they are suffering. Sabbath rest, again, does not mean escapism, or relaxation. It means a full awareness of who God is, what it is exactly that He has done for you, and a willingness “to be transformed by the suffering of God Himself, and then from the perspective of this transformation welcome the whole creation with humility, care, gratitude, and the overall aim of celebration” (88).
We must not minimize the reality or the depth of pain that suffering brings. We must understand its full weight. Therefore we must not see it outside the context of a God who Himself endured the full weight of suffering and loss, and in so doing gave rest, peace, wholeness, and joy to the very people whose suffering He bore. To minimize pain and suffering is to minimize the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It is to remove completely the hope that we have; hope that was given to us so that we might bring it to a dying world.
As Christians we are servants of a dying world, a world ravaged by the fall, ravaged by sin. A world that is full of injustice, pain, misery, suffering, and despair. Real life is hard. Real living is difficult. However, what we fail to see is that, though the pain is real, and not to be made light of, the despair is of our own making. The problem lies in how we understand the world: the presuppositions we carry concerning ourselves, our ‘natural and inalienable rights’ that we feel should naturally be a consequence of all the good we do in this world where there are so many worse sinners than us. Wirzba is quick to point this out, and reduce the problem to its core:
Especially in an era of individualism, we are readily tempted to reduce suffering to whatever impedes our freedom or brings us displeasure and discomfort. Think here of the common complaint that life does not go as we planned or expected. It is easy to interpret events as evil or to claim that the world we live in is rigged against our personal success. But is it really? The problem with this anthropocentric, even egocentric approach is that it assumes that the whole of reality should be geared to the satisfaction of our narrow wishes. This assumption is deeply at odds with the creation narrative that proclaims God’s [Sabbath rest] as creation’s ultimate goal, and with the experience of Job, who learns through his pain and suffering that the goods of this world are not tailored to his interests and that the scope of God’s concern extends far beyond humanity to include all of creation. Our best efforts to establish an accountant’s ledger of good and evil will often miss the mark. (79)
As Christians, we are servants of a dying world. Our purpose is to be a light, a city on a hill, leading the way for people who are fallen, broken and full of despair, bringing them to a place where pain and suffering are given meaning, and context. As Christians, we offer the only way of understanding pain and suffering that leads to hope and peace. It is simple. If there is no God, there is no final justice, where all that is evil and bad will be punished. More than that, if there is no God, there is no such thing as “evil and bad”. There is no fixed, absolute standard upon which to base any system of morality. Again, if the individual is king, and the independent mind is the final authority, you have simple chaos. If self and self’s desires are the standard upon which we build our moralities, our ethics, the basis for whether we do this or that where it regards others, then all is relative, and whether I shoot you in the head or bring you flowers doesn’t matter. They are potentially both equally valid actions consistent with the standards established by the reigning authorities: me, myself, and I. In this system, there is no hope for utter and final judgment, and all past atrocities simply become meaningless instances of the individual’s right to choose. If Darwin was right, why was Hitler wrong? In this system the death camps of 1940’s Poland become no better or worse than Mr. Rodgers Neighborhood. Both are equally valid expressions of the individual’s right to choose. And the freedom of the individual to choose as he or she desires, is, as we know, a “natural and inalienable right”. Pain and suffering therefore become meaningless adjectives, unable to hold any real significance.
There are, obviously, major problems with this way of thinking. First, it simply isn’t true. There is a God and He laughs at those who think and act otherwise. Second, it is inconsistent with how the natural mind works. Even pagans understand that what Hitler did was wrong. They understand pain to be painful, and suffering to be difficult. They are real experiences, the meaning of which transcends culture and language and time. This is so because all human beings bear the image of God, and in so doing know, deep down, the difference between good and evil. We know instinctually that shooting your neighbor deserves judgment and some form of justice. And so the disconnect becomes clearer. We want justice and desire punishment for the breaking of moral and civil law. We want the standards that make it possible to determine what is right and what is wrong. These are necessary for any civilization to endure and achieve peace. We want standards that apply across the board, and are a higher authority than our individual freedom to choose. We want the standards, but we don’t want the One who gives the standards, because He Himself is the Standard. So we are left with an inconsistent and dysfunctional society, heading inevitably toward dissolution. A house that is built on sand, no matter how stable it looks, and how close the builders copied the blueprints of the house built on rock, that house will fall. It may take longer for the siding to deteriorate because it borrowed materials from the other house, but it will, and must fall.
As Christians, we are servants to a dying world, a world whose foundation is sand; a society whose moral fiber is borrowed; a people who are blind to the ridiculousness of a Standardless-standard. But their blindness is self-inflicted. They suppress what they know to be true. A real problem arises, though, when the Church, who is not suppressing what she believes, acts in such a way as to offer no hope and no peace. We, as the Church, do this when we minimize the reality of pain and suffering. We know that our God is a God of love, and believe that He has created a world full of joy and delight, and trust that He desires our good in giving us Sabbath rest. But when we minimize pain and suffering, or define the offending events as random, meaningless acts, we betray a heart that does not trust God. We minimize pain by defining it as every instance in which we don’t get what we want. It is at these times that life becomes “hard”. Things are not going are way, and so we bring out our sheets of sanctimonious sackcloth. But this understanding of pain rests on the conviction that our needs, our desires, our wills and choices are the standard to which life must obediently play out. If this is our hermeneutic to interpreting life, then there is no room left for serving others. We need therefore to recover a biblical definition of pain.
The problem in the Church arises from our wanting to protect the holiness of God. There are two available options. Either God is a bystander, watching random and unfortunate acts occur, or He is sovereign, and the author of life, the difficult parts as well as the joyful ones. In the first instance, He is not really God at all, and so therefore if pain is the result of randomness, who cares. What does it matter, for there is no real god able to redeem or give meaning to the pain? But in the second, there is a Father who has created us for a reason. He has fashioned us and breathed life into us, so that we may glorify Him, and share His love with others. It is with this interpretive key that we unlock the meaning of pain and suffering in our lives. When we truly experience hardships, not the disappointments that come from our desires not being fulfilled, but from physical or emotional trials, we are being equipped for communal living. If the whole focus of life is outward, and not inward, every circumstance, and every experience is imbedded with an outward trajectory. The question should not be, “Why am I going through this?” Rather our inquiries should sound like, “What does this trial equip me to do as I live in fellowship with other people who will eventually face similar situations?” And more importantly, “How does this trial create in me and in my life an ability or opportunity to bring glory to the Author of all things, even this trial?” The real problem with pain is not that we experience it, but that we do nothing with it. In attributing it to blind forces of chance, we surround ourselves with purposelessness, and continue to feed the lie that what matters is our own comfort and security. As such pain and suffering become forces that need to be combated, like enemies. We must work hard to fend off the antagonistic attacks of hardships. But, as Wirzba notes:
Pain and suffering should not be cast as “problems” that need to be “explained” or “solved,” eliminated because they represent an affront to the world we would choose or make for ourselves. In fact, it is a mistake to look for a “solution,” since this becomes an excuse to avoid the communal disciplines of care and constancy that enable us together to bear, absorb, and grow through each other’s hurt. (79)
It is at this point that we see the connection between pain and suffering, and Sabbath rest. At first these two might seem to be at odds with one another. If all things in our life are meant to have an outward teleology, then certainly the Sabbath rest God has created for us must be seen in the same way. If Sabbath rest is Gods intention for all of creation, then our pain and our suffering play a part in achieving that end. This is true because the foundation for Sabbath Rest is the Cross of Jesus. Ultimate Pain and Ultimate Suffering was endured for the joy of Sabbath Rest. This act of the God-Man Jesus at once gave meaning to pain and gave purpose to suffering. In the cross of Jesus, and in the daily crosses we ourselves bear, we see Sabbath rest being brought to others. We see Him serving the dying world.
The dying world we inhabit is a system based on violence and death. A world in which the wills of every citizen compete for supremacy can have no other outcome. Wirzba comments,
Christ’s resurrection, as the revelation and overcoming of our death-wielding ways, makes possible a new kind of life, restoring creation to its original intent of participating in God’s own life of joy, peace, and [Sabbath rest]. The resurrection, in short helps us know what Creations is ultimately about as a forgiven and reconciled existence formed in grateful acceptance of gift upon gift. (83)
All of life is a gift from the hand of a Father who knows far more about ‘what is good for us’, and ‘what we really need’ than we ever could. As Christians, we are servants of a dying world. In picking up our cross daily, we are given the tools to appropriately understand the pain we experience, and are given the grace to come along side others and bear their burdens as well. Wirzba continues,
This humbling realization enables authentic thanksgiving and praise. It is also the basis upon which to build practices of forgiveness and reconciliation. Once we learn to appreciate our own lives and those around us as gifts from God, we do not need to enter into bitter struggle and inflict various forms of pain and suffering upon each other. The many relations that feed into our being and literally constitute it can now be embraced and celebrated as so many forms of manna from heaven. (83)
Our natural, unredeemed instinct is to find fault in others for our suffering. The Cross breaks this cycle by exposing the fact that true fault lies in ourselves. We are the fallen race of God-haters, worthy of the flood waters of judgment. But God in His grace has given Sabbath rest to us, His adopted children, through the sacrifice of Jesus. This means two things: first, “we have no right to expect a painless life, because Christ Himself did not” (83). “If the world hated me, they will also hate you.” Secondly, we have been lavished with rest, and when we least deserved it. In this we too have been given the ability, and the responsibility to give rest to others. This is done primarily when they need rest, or in other words, when they are suffering. Sabbath rest, again, does not mean escapism, or relaxation. It means a full awareness of who God is, what it is exactly that He has done for you, and a willingness “to be transformed by the suffering of God Himself, and then from the perspective of this transformation welcome the whole creation with humility, care, gratitude, and the overall aim of celebration” (88).
We must not minimize the reality or the depth of pain that suffering brings. We must understand its full weight. Therefore we must not see it outside the context of a God who Himself endured the full weight of suffering and loss, and in so doing gave rest, peace, wholeness, and joy to the very people whose suffering He bore. To minimize pain and suffering is to minimize the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It is to remove completely the hope that we have; hope that was given to us so that we might bring it to a dying world.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Cosmology and Epistemology
I just came across a quote from Garret Green’s Theology, Hermeneutics, and Imagination which made me put down my book and pick up a metaphorical pen and paper. The quote is this:
The thought that struck me was this: How might our reading of Scripture be different were we not living in and under an Einsteinian cosmology? How quick are we to allegorize and metaphorize passages of Scripture simply because we 'know better'? We know that the heavens have no vocal chords, they have no personhood, so how can they declare the glory of God (Ps 19) in any way other than a metaphorical one? How can they “day to day pour forth speech”? We know that space is simply a vast and immense void spotted with spheres of flaming gas and frozen rock? Right? Since we know that to be the case, Ps 19 must be speaking in a less than realistic mode. Right?
Here is my contention. It is not to argue specifically for a certain reading of Ps 19. It is much broader than that. It is to argue for the reigning paradigm that will necessarily shape our “epistemology, [our] poetry, [our] politics, and [our] religion.” From what paradigm does our epistemology come? Who determines the basic, most foundational, even subconscious, mode of our understanding? What well do we draw from to make our every day determinations as to what is real, what is symbol, what is metaphor, and what is hard, cold fact? What paradigm determines even our vocabulary for such discussions to inhabit?
Was the medieval church wrong to think of the cosmos in terms of reigning personalities? Was the Psalmist wrong to think of the heavens, day to day, pouring forth speech, “their voice [going] out through all the earth, and their words to the ends of the world”? How do we understand the Psalmist? From what altar do we sit and judge?
More questions. Does Scripture ever speak in terms of facts? Did Paul ever speak in terms of discovery (as opposed to revelation – the distinction is important)? Did Abraham look up at the stars and see flaming balls of gas? Even if he knew that’s what they were made of (like we do), is that what he would have seen? Did David see a tree as simply a whole made of up of distinct parts (root, trunk, stem, branch, leaf)? Did John ever speak of 'inanimate objects'?
Is there room in our current cosmology for seriously thinking of the sun as a “bridegroom”, let alone as a “bridegroom leaving his chamber…running his course with joy”? Does our epistemology have a category for heavens which declare the glory of God with speech and words whose voice is heard? Does our understanding of planetary motion and heliocentricity leave room for concepts of planetary obedience, response and submission?
How would our worldview be different if we supposed these things to be true? How might we think of creation differently, were we to see the Creator/Creature dialogue occur even with ‘inanimate objects’? Do we really believe Jesus when He says even the stones would cry out in praise to their Maker?
The purpose of these questions is not so much to answer them, as it is to provoke thought. We necessarily sit on an altar and judge all that comes before our eyes. The question is what altar do we sit upon? An altar on which all is sacrificed to the Most High God, even our cosmology and epistemology? Or do we sit on an altar dedicated to the gods of science, realism, relativity, and cold, hard facts? We must sit somewhere. We must serve one or the Other.
From Galileo and Newton to Einstein and Stephen Hawking, the reigning scientific
models of the cosmos have provided the larger culture with powerful analogies
and metaphors that shape its epistemology, its poetry, its politics, and its
religion…many of the leading postmodernist ideas borrow much of the their
imagery, and not a little of their social prestige, from scientific notions of
relativity, uncertainty, and incommensurability.
The thought that struck me was this: How might our reading of Scripture be different were we not living in and under an Einsteinian cosmology? How quick are we to allegorize and metaphorize passages of Scripture simply because we 'know better'? We know that the heavens have no vocal chords, they have no personhood, so how can they declare the glory of God (Ps 19) in any way other than a metaphorical one? How can they “day to day pour forth speech”? We know that space is simply a vast and immense void spotted with spheres of flaming gas and frozen rock? Right? Since we know that to be the case, Ps 19 must be speaking in a less than realistic mode. Right?
Here is my contention. It is not to argue specifically for a certain reading of Ps 19. It is much broader than that. It is to argue for the reigning paradigm that will necessarily shape our “epistemology, [our] poetry, [our] politics, and [our] religion.” From what paradigm does our epistemology come? Who determines the basic, most foundational, even subconscious, mode of our understanding? What well do we draw from to make our every day determinations as to what is real, what is symbol, what is metaphor, and what is hard, cold fact? What paradigm determines even our vocabulary for such discussions to inhabit?
Was the medieval church wrong to think of the cosmos in terms of reigning personalities? Was the Psalmist wrong to think of the heavens, day to day, pouring forth speech, “their voice [going] out through all the earth, and their words to the ends of the world”? How do we understand the Psalmist? From what altar do we sit and judge?
More questions. Does Scripture ever speak in terms of facts? Did Paul ever speak in terms of discovery (as opposed to revelation – the distinction is important)? Did Abraham look up at the stars and see flaming balls of gas? Even if he knew that’s what they were made of (like we do), is that what he would have seen? Did David see a tree as simply a whole made of up of distinct parts (root, trunk, stem, branch, leaf)? Did John ever speak of 'inanimate objects'?
Is there room in our current cosmology for seriously thinking of the sun as a “bridegroom”, let alone as a “bridegroom leaving his chamber…running his course with joy”? Does our epistemology have a category for heavens which declare the glory of God with speech and words whose voice is heard? Does our understanding of planetary motion and heliocentricity leave room for concepts of planetary obedience, response and submission?
How would our worldview be different if we supposed these things to be true? How might we think of creation differently, were we to see the Creator/Creature dialogue occur even with ‘inanimate objects’? Do we really believe Jesus when He says even the stones would cry out in praise to their Maker?
The purpose of these questions is not so much to answer them, as it is to provoke thought. We necessarily sit on an altar and judge all that comes before our eyes. The question is what altar do we sit upon? An altar on which all is sacrificed to the Most High God, even our cosmology and epistemology? Or do we sit on an altar dedicated to the gods of science, realism, relativity, and cold, hard facts? We must sit somewhere. We must serve one or the Other.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Living the Sabbath
This is an excerpt from a paper I am writing in response to Norman Wirzba's book Living the Sabbath. It is an excellent book, and comes highly recommended. I will post a link to the paper once it is completed. Please leave me your thoughts. Thanks
From Sabbath to Sunday
"Put succinctly, in the person of Jesus the Sabbath aspirations that heretofore guided the Israelites now find a most visible and compelling expression. If we want to see, feel, hear, taste, and touch what God’s delight in creation concretely amounts to, we can do no better than to consider the life and ministry of Jesus Christ. As the early medieval pope Saint Gregory the Great put it: 'For us, the true Sabbath is the person of our Redeemer, our Lord Jesus Christ.'" (43)
Many believers do not even realize that sometime in the first century AD, Christians began meeting on Sunday, instead of on Saturday, which was the Jewish Sabbath. From Creation on, the people of God celebrated the Sabbath on Saturday, which was, and still is, the seventh day. It was on Saturday that God created rest. It was on Saturday that God commanded our elder brothers to cease from all work, and to keep it holy; to turn back their feet from doing their own pleasure, and to call the Sabbath a delight. But if this was the day on which rest was created, which for thousands of years bore the name of Sabbath, then why have we all grown up worshipping on Sunday? The answer to that question is fully and completely one Name: Jesus. Wirzba notes, “Just as the Sabbath represents the climax or fulfillment of creation, so too Jesus reveals what God’s intentions for life have been all along” (43).
To understand this we must remember on which day Christ made all things new. It was on the First Lord’s Day, on the morning after the Sabbath, that Mary and the others came to visit the tomb, and found it empty. It was on a Sunday that our Lord was raised from the dead. And we find in this act, the central hope that we have, that the dead can be made alive. Death now is conquered. There have been two events in history that bear the authority to change everything, to reorient all things to themselves. The first is the birth of Christ, which has changed even our calendars. We live in the year we do, because Jesus was born in a manger 2009 years ago. The second is this day of resurrection, this day of new birth. It too has changed our calendars. We now worship our God on this first day of the week, instead of the last day, as did our elder brothers, the Jews of the Old Covenant. They looked forward to their salvation, they anticipated it, much like they anticipate the Sabbath throughout the week. Their mindset was “Salvation is coming, our Rest is coming, our eternal Sabbath is coming.” This was pictured for them in the structure of their week. Saturday, being the last day, was always before them, in front of their schedules. They continually moved toward it. In the world Christ has transformed, we have the honor of looking back at our salvation. Our mindset is, “Salvation has come, our Rest has come, our eternal Sabbath has come in the Person of Jesus.” This is pictured for us in the structure of our week. Sunday, being the first day, the day of resurrection and new life, is always where we start, and move out from. Our days start here, and move out into the world. We start in Christ, and take Him to the nations throughout the rest of the week.
It would be foolish to say that Jesus abolished the Jewish Sabbath, just as it is foolish to say that He came to abolish the Law. Rather he came to fulfill both the Sabbath, and the Law. In both cases his fulfillment meant a transformation. Which makes sense, for in the birth, ministry, death, resurrection, and ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ, the whole world was made new. Therefore the Sabbath has not been exiled to the realm of ancient historical practices. Much to the contrary, it has been re-born in the very person of Christ, and on His day of resurrection. Seen this way, it is inevitable that Sunday has become the new Sabbath. It is the day of rebirth, of new life, of the hope of our eternal rest. Paul tells the Colossians,
"He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything he might be preeminent. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross." (Col 1:15-20)
The world has been recreated, and once again, it takes place in a garden (Jn 19:41). As God, in and through and for the Word, created the heavens and the earth in Genesis 1, so again, God, in and through and for the Word, recreates the heavens and the earth in John 20. It is why John tells us in his vision, the one sitting on the throne declares “Behold, I am making all things new.” All things, whether on earth or in heaven, are being reconciled to God, making peace by the blood of his cross.
So here we are now. We live and move and have our being in the new creation. This does not mean that the world will not be finally and completely transformed at the end of days. It simply means that the transformation has already begun. Just as our own bodies being in the end fully and finally transformed into the incorruptible does not contradict the truth that we are undergoing transformation this side of glory, so it is with all creation. What are the means God uses to bring about this transformation of all creation? It is clearly the Church, the new Israel. As Peter says, “But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God's people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy” (1 Peter 2:9-10). We are a nation of priests, and what do priests do? They go proclaim, and make disciples of all the nations, teaching them to obey all that they have been commanded. Why? Because all authority in heaven and on earth has been given to our Lord Jesus Christ, and Lo, He is with us always, even to the end of the age.
This is why it is inevitable that our Sabbath be transformed and reborn into the day of rebirth and transformation. Every week we celebrate a “little Easter.” How is celebration marked if not by and through feasting? As Isaiah says,
On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples
a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wine,
of rich food full of marrow, of aged wine well refined.
And he will swallow up on this mountain
the covering that is cast over all peoples,
the veil that is spread over all nations.
He will swallow up death forever;
and the Lord God will wipe away tears from all faces,
and the reproach of his people he will take away from all the earth,
for the Lord has spoken.
It will be said on that day,
“Behold, this is our God; we have waited for him, that he might save us
This is the Lord; we have waited for him;
let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.” (Is 25:6-9)
The central symbol of this feast is of course the Table that Christ Himself sets before us. It is at this Table, a Table we sit at every week, that we partake of the rich food of the body of Christ, and the well-aged wine of His blood. It is here that bread and wine become a feast of joy and resurrection, because “He has swallowed up on this mountain, the covering that is cast over all peoples, the veil that is spread over all nations.” How does God accomplish this, if not through sending His Church to the nations, making disciples of them, baptizing them, and teaching them to obey Christ? It is to this purpose the Sabbath has been reborn. We come to worship, to start the week in Christ, in public, as a public proclamation that Christ indeed sits on His Throne. It is this reality that we take to the nations Monday through Saturday, proclaiming that the veil of death has indeed been cast off in the person and work of Christ. It is also how we must live locally, in the context of our local communities. If we do not live unto our neighbor as if death has been cast off, how will we ever be effective on the national scale? Living Christ to others starts where you are, and moves out. It starts in your own home with your own loved ones. Then it continues out to your neighbors, your community, your town, your city, your county, your state and so on. Salvation is not just a personal event. It happens in space and time, unto space and time. Our personal salvation recreates the world of our existence and reorients the time through which we pass. It gives us new purpose and new direction. It is not simply a blue ribbon that we attain, and pin onto our bulletin board of personal achievements. Wirzba again,
"[We] need to move beyond the highly individualistic notion of salvation that many of us assume – that Jesus is significant because of the salvation he makes possible for individual believers… The work of Christ extends to and links up with the whole of creation…Christ, in other words, does not take us out of creation to save us, but rather saves us precisely by enabling us to enter more fully and more harmoniously into it, and then to find in this deep immersion the reality of God." (45)
Wirzba continues,
"We do not live alone or as rugged individualists. We need each other and depend upon the sympathy and support we provide to each other. In a very real sense, the health of human living, its success and fulfillment, depends upon the health and wholeness of the many relations that bodily existence requires…All wholeness, in the end, is a reflection of a gracious God who cares for us all be showering us with the gifts of bodies, food, and community. To be healthy in any way whatsoever is, whether we appreciate it or not, to bear witness to God’s continuing involvement in the maintenance and wholeness of creation. If we are attentive, our whole lives should be long act of thanksgiving and praise." (46-47)
This long act of thanksgiving and praise is our Sabbath life. It is Sunday living itself out Monday through Saturday. To return to the Table, it is why it is called Communion. It is a public celebration done in Community. The table was never meant to be an individual experience, the same way salvation is never an isolated event. The Body of Christ is the new humanity. We are the new creation, recreated in the garden of the empty tomb. This is our hope and our rest. It is our eternal Sabbath.
"Sunday, far from being the obliteration of Sabbath teaching, represents a profound rearticulation of God’s overarching purpose and plan for creation. Sunday is our day of joy, for here we remember our memberships one with another and commit ourselves to the health and wholeness – the salvation – of physical and social bodies, of communities and creation, made possible by Christ’s resurrection power and redeeming love." (51)
From Sabbath to Sunday
"Put succinctly, in the person of Jesus the Sabbath aspirations that heretofore guided the Israelites now find a most visible and compelling expression. If we want to see, feel, hear, taste, and touch what God’s delight in creation concretely amounts to, we can do no better than to consider the life and ministry of Jesus Christ. As the early medieval pope Saint Gregory the Great put it: 'For us, the true Sabbath is the person of our Redeemer, our Lord Jesus Christ.'" (43)
Many believers do not even realize that sometime in the first century AD, Christians began meeting on Sunday, instead of on Saturday, which was the Jewish Sabbath. From Creation on, the people of God celebrated the Sabbath on Saturday, which was, and still is, the seventh day. It was on Saturday that God created rest. It was on Saturday that God commanded our elder brothers to cease from all work, and to keep it holy; to turn back their feet from doing their own pleasure, and to call the Sabbath a delight. But if this was the day on which rest was created, which for thousands of years bore the name of Sabbath, then why have we all grown up worshipping on Sunday? The answer to that question is fully and completely one Name: Jesus. Wirzba notes, “Just as the Sabbath represents the climax or fulfillment of creation, so too Jesus reveals what God’s intentions for life have been all along” (43).
To understand this we must remember on which day Christ made all things new. It was on the First Lord’s Day, on the morning after the Sabbath, that Mary and the others came to visit the tomb, and found it empty. It was on a Sunday that our Lord was raised from the dead. And we find in this act, the central hope that we have, that the dead can be made alive. Death now is conquered. There have been two events in history that bear the authority to change everything, to reorient all things to themselves. The first is the birth of Christ, which has changed even our calendars. We live in the year we do, because Jesus was born in a manger 2009 years ago. The second is this day of resurrection, this day of new birth. It too has changed our calendars. We now worship our God on this first day of the week, instead of the last day, as did our elder brothers, the Jews of the Old Covenant. They looked forward to their salvation, they anticipated it, much like they anticipate the Sabbath throughout the week. Their mindset was “Salvation is coming, our Rest is coming, our eternal Sabbath is coming.” This was pictured for them in the structure of their week. Saturday, being the last day, was always before them, in front of their schedules. They continually moved toward it. In the world Christ has transformed, we have the honor of looking back at our salvation. Our mindset is, “Salvation has come, our Rest has come, our eternal Sabbath has come in the Person of Jesus.” This is pictured for us in the structure of our week. Sunday, being the first day, the day of resurrection and new life, is always where we start, and move out from. Our days start here, and move out into the world. We start in Christ, and take Him to the nations throughout the rest of the week.
It would be foolish to say that Jesus abolished the Jewish Sabbath, just as it is foolish to say that He came to abolish the Law. Rather he came to fulfill both the Sabbath, and the Law. In both cases his fulfillment meant a transformation. Which makes sense, for in the birth, ministry, death, resurrection, and ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ, the whole world was made new. Therefore the Sabbath has not been exiled to the realm of ancient historical practices. Much to the contrary, it has been re-born in the very person of Christ, and on His day of resurrection. Seen this way, it is inevitable that Sunday has become the new Sabbath. It is the day of rebirth, of new life, of the hope of our eternal rest. Paul tells the Colossians,
"He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything he might be preeminent. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross." (Col 1:15-20)
The world has been recreated, and once again, it takes place in a garden (Jn 19:41). As God, in and through and for the Word, created the heavens and the earth in Genesis 1, so again, God, in and through and for the Word, recreates the heavens and the earth in John 20. It is why John tells us in his vision, the one sitting on the throne declares “Behold, I am making all things new.” All things, whether on earth or in heaven, are being reconciled to God, making peace by the blood of his cross.
So here we are now. We live and move and have our being in the new creation. This does not mean that the world will not be finally and completely transformed at the end of days. It simply means that the transformation has already begun. Just as our own bodies being in the end fully and finally transformed into the incorruptible does not contradict the truth that we are undergoing transformation this side of glory, so it is with all creation. What are the means God uses to bring about this transformation of all creation? It is clearly the Church, the new Israel. As Peter says, “But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God's people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy” (1 Peter 2:9-10). We are a nation of priests, and what do priests do? They go proclaim, and make disciples of all the nations, teaching them to obey all that they have been commanded. Why? Because all authority in heaven and on earth has been given to our Lord Jesus Christ, and Lo, He is with us always, even to the end of the age.
This is why it is inevitable that our Sabbath be transformed and reborn into the day of rebirth and transformation. Every week we celebrate a “little Easter.” How is celebration marked if not by and through feasting? As Isaiah says,
On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples
a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wine,
of rich food full of marrow, of aged wine well refined.
And he will swallow up on this mountain
the covering that is cast over all peoples,
the veil that is spread over all nations.
He will swallow up death forever;
and the Lord God will wipe away tears from all faces,
and the reproach of his people he will take away from all the earth,
for the Lord has spoken.
It will be said on that day,
“Behold, this is our God; we have waited for him, that he might save us
This is the Lord; we have waited for him;
let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.” (Is 25:6-9)
The central symbol of this feast is of course the Table that Christ Himself sets before us. It is at this Table, a Table we sit at every week, that we partake of the rich food of the body of Christ, and the well-aged wine of His blood. It is here that bread and wine become a feast of joy and resurrection, because “He has swallowed up on this mountain, the covering that is cast over all peoples, the veil that is spread over all nations.” How does God accomplish this, if not through sending His Church to the nations, making disciples of them, baptizing them, and teaching them to obey Christ? It is to this purpose the Sabbath has been reborn. We come to worship, to start the week in Christ, in public, as a public proclamation that Christ indeed sits on His Throne. It is this reality that we take to the nations Monday through Saturday, proclaiming that the veil of death has indeed been cast off in the person and work of Christ. It is also how we must live locally, in the context of our local communities. If we do not live unto our neighbor as if death has been cast off, how will we ever be effective on the national scale? Living Christ to others starts where you are, and moves out. It starts in your own home with your own loved ones. Then it continues out to your neighbors, your community, your town, your city, your county, your state and so on. Salvation is not just a personal event. It happens in space and time, unto space and time. Our personal salvation recreates the world of our existence and reorients the time through which we pass. It gives us new purpose and new direction. It is not simply a blue ribbon that we attain, and pin onto our bulletin board of personal achievements. Wirzba again,
"[We] need to move beyond the highly individualistic notion of salvation that many of us assume – that Jesus is significant because of the salvation he makes possible for individual believers… The work of Christ extends to and links up with the whole of creation…Christ, in other words, does not take us out of creation to save us, but rather saves us precisely by enabling us to enter more fully and more harmoniously into it, and then to find in this deep immersion the reality of God." (45)
Wirzba continues,
"We do not live alone or as rugged individualists. We need each other and depend upon the sympathy and support we provide to each other. In a very real sense, the health of human living, its success and fulfillment, depends upon the health and wholeness of the many relations that bodily existence requires…All wholeness, in the end, is a reflection of a gracious God who cares for us all be showering us with the gifts of bodies, food, and community. To be healthy in any way whatsoever is, whether we appreciate it or not, to bear witness to God’s continuing involvement in the maintenance and wholeness of creation. If we are attentive, our whole lives should be long act of thanksgiving and praise." (46-47)
This long act of thanksgiving and praise is our Sabbath life. It is Sunday living itself out Monday through Saturday. To return to the Table, it is why it is called Communion. It is a public celebration done in Community. The table was never meant to be an individual experience, the same way salvation is never an isolated event. The Body of Christ is the new humanity. We are the new creation, recreated in the garden of the empty tomb. This is our hope and our rest. It is our eternal Sabbath.
"Sunday, far from being the obliteration of Sabbath teaching, represents a profound rearticulation of God’s overarching purpose and plan for creation. Sunday is our day of joy, for here we remember our memberships one with another and commit ourselves to the health and wholeness – the salvation – of physical and social bodies, of communities and creation, made possible by Christ’s resurrection power and redeeming love." (51)
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Psalm 1 & 2
Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked,nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers;but his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night.He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season,and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers.The wicked are not so, but are like chaff that the wind drives away.Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous;for the Lord knows the way of the righteous, but the way of the wicked will perish.
Why do the nations rage and the peoples plot in vain? The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, against the Lord and against his Anointed, saying,“Let us burst their bonds apart and cast away their cords from us.”He who sits in the heavens laughs; the Lord holds them in derision.Then he will speak to them in his wrath, and terrify them in his fury, saying,“As for me, I have set my King on Zion, my holy hill.”I will tell of the decree: The Lord said to me, “You are my Son; today I have begotten you.Ask of me, and I will make the nations your heritage, and the ends of the earth your possession.You shall break them with a rod of iron and dash them in pieces like a potter's vessel.”Now therefore, O kings, be wise; be warned, O rulers of the earth.Serve the Lord with fear, and rejoice with trembling.Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and you perish in the way,for his wrath is quickly kindled. Blessed are all who take refuge in him.
I have often read Psalm 1 by itself, and felt a little daunted by the language used. It almost seems too black and white to be edifying. The call of the Psalm, taken by itself, is to be perfect. If you are, you will not walk in the counsel of the wicked, or sit in the seat of the scoffer. Rather, you will take delight in the law of the Lord, and be like a firmly planted tree. What happens then, if I, in my war with the flesh, temporarily stand in the way of sinners (because I am one)? I know I am forgiven, but does that mean that I no longer can be like a tree, planted by streams of water? It seems questionable at best.
What seems to be a better alternative is to read the first two Psalms together, as one complete song. The second Psalm completes the story arc of the first, and sheds light on this dilemma of personal application. From a literary perspective, they complement each other, as the second half picks up where the first ended, and brings it back around. Thus an outline of the two together would look something like this:
A: Blessed is the faithful, and obedient man (1:1-2)
B: He will be firmly planted, nourished, bear fruit and prosper well (1:3)
C: The wicked will not prosper, and they will perish (1:4-6)
D: The wicked rage, and plot in vain in their counsel together (2:1-3)
E: God laughs, plants His King on His holy hill (2:4-6)
F: The faithful and obedient Son receives inheritance and rules nations (2:7-9)
G: Application, Kiss the Son, Blessed are those who take refuge in Him (2:10-12)
When you read through Psalm 1, you end with the perishing wicked. It does not seem to be a proper conclusion to the beautiful imagery of the righteous man, planted by streams of water. However, it does lead perfectly into the first verses of Psalm 2. The Psalmist is commenting on these wicked men, and trying to understand why they speed along toward their destruction. As in the first Psalm, God sits on high, and sees all their wickedness. In fact He laughs at them, and holds them in derision. They think they can successfully bring about their own prosperity by breaking free from the reign of Gods Anointed. But He has set His King on Zion. And He will rule the nations. Those who remain in their wickedness, will not stand in the congregation of the righteous, but will be dashed to pieces like a potter’s vessel. Then the call is to Kiss the Son, to serve the Lord with fear, and rejoice with trembling. We serve with fear and rejoice with trembling, for we know that we are sinners. But we serve and rejoice because we are permitted to take refuge in Him. These commands seem more doable than the picture of the man in Psalm 1. By grace (of course) we are able to cast ourselves on His mercy, and are able to serve Him.
This is where putting the two Psalms together makes Christ come alive. The Anointed One, the King firmly planted on the Holy Hill, He is the Man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked. He is like a tree firmly planted by streams of water. His leaf will never wither. All that He does prospers. This one complete Psalm becomes the story of Christ and the wicked. Christ bears fruit. The wicked do not. Christ is King over all the nations. The wicked in vain try to establish themselves apart from the King. The Anointed One is blessed of God Almighty, whereas the wicked are laughed at and derided. The leaf of the King will not wither, but the chaff of the wicked will be blown away, and come to nothing.
Reading the Psalm in this way allows us to see Christ even more clearly in the first half, as the Man who delights day and night in the Law of the Lord. We see Him more clearly as the True King of Kings, who conquers the wicked, and dashes them against the Rock. At the end, we are given the opportunity to meditate on this and are called to be wise. We must Kiss the Son, and find our refuge in Him, and in Him alone. And blessed are all who do so.
Here we find our place in Psalm 1. The Psalmist bookends this one complete Psalm with descriptions of those who are Blessed. “Blessed is the man who walks not…” and “Blessed are all who take refuge in Him.” Those who take refuge in the Son are identified with the Man who does not sit in the seat of scoffers. As we serve with fear, rejoice with trembling, and Kiss the Anointed King, we become like Him, delighting in the Law of the Lord, and meditating on it day and night. This takes the moralistic impulses out of Psalm 1’s application. We can only be planted by streams of water, if we indeed kiss the Son, and find our refuge in Him. It is Christ who is found in the first Psalm, but by the end of the second, we are identified with Him. Therefore, in Him, we are righteous, and will not perish. Rather we will yield fruit in our season, our leaf will not wither, and all we do will prosper.
Why do the nations rage and the peoples plot in vain? The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, against the Lord and against his Anointed, saying,“Let us burst their bonds apart and cast away their cords from us.”He who sits in the heavens laughs; the Lord holds them in derision.Then he will speak to them in his wrath, and terrify them in his fury, saying,“As for me, I have set my King on Zion, my holy hill.”I will tell of the decree: The Lord said to me, “You are my Son; today I have begotten you.Ask of me, and I will make the nations your heritage, and the ends of the earth your possession.You shall break them with a rod of iron and dash them in pieces like a potter's vessel.”Now therefore, O kings, be wise; be warned, O rulers of the earth.Serve the Lord with fear, and rejoice with trembling.Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and you perish in the way,for his wrath is quickly kindled. Blessed are all who take refuge in him.
I have often read Psalm 1 by itself, and felt a little daunted by the language used. It almost seems too black and white to be edifying. The call of the Psalm, taken by itself, is to be perfect. If you are, you will not walk in the counsel of the wicked, or sit in the seat of the scoffer. Rather, you will take delight in the law of the Lord, and be like a firmly planted tree. What happens then, if I, in my war with the flesh, temporarily stand in the way of sinners (because I am one)? I know I am forgiven, but does that mean that I no longer can be like a tree, planted by streams of water? It seems questionable at best.
What seems to be a better alternative is to read the first two Psalms together, as one complete song. The second Psalm completes the story arc of the first, and sheds light on this dilemma of personal application. From a literary perspective, they complement each other, as the second half picks up where the first ended, and brings it back around. Thus an outline of the two together would look something like this:
A: Blessed is the faithful, and obedient man (1:1-2)
B: He will be firmly planted, nourished, bear fruit and prosper well (1:3)
C: The wicked will not prosper, and they will perish (1:4-6)
D: The wicked rage, and plot in vain in their counsel together (2:1-3)
E: God laughs, plants His King on His holy hill (2:4-6)
F: The faithful and obedient Son receives inheritance and rules nations (2:7-9)
G: Application, Kiss the Son, Blessed are those who take refuge in Him (2:10-12)
When you read through Psalm 1, you end with the perishing wicked. It does not seem to be a proper conclusion to the beautiful imagery of the righteous man, planted by streams of water. However, it does lead perfectly into the first verses of Psalm 2. The Psalmist is commenting on these wicked men, and trying to understand why they speed along toward their destruction. As in the first Psalm, God sits on high, and sees all their wickedness. In fact He laughs at them, and holds them in derision. They think they can successfully bring about their own prosperity by breaking free from the reign of Gods Anointed. But He has set His King on Zion. And He will rule the nations. Those who remain in their wickedness, will not stand in the congregation of the righteous, but will be dashed to pieces like a potter’s vessel. Then the call is to Kiss the Son, to serve the Lord with fear, and rejoice with trembling. We serve with fear and rejoice with trembling, for we know that we are sinners. But we serve and rejoice because we are permitted to take refuge in Him. These commands seem more doable than the picture of the man in Psalm 1. By grace (of course) we are able to cast ourselves on His mercy, and are able to serve Him.
This is where putting the two Psalms together makes Christ come alive. The Anointed One, the King firmly planted on the Holy Hill, He is the Man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked. He is like a tree firmly planted by streams of water. His leaf will never wither. All that He does prospers. This one complete Psalm becomes the story of Christ and the wicked. Christ bears fruit. The wicked do not. Christ is King over all the nations. The wicked in vain try to establish themselves apart from the King. The Anointed One is blessed of God Almighty, whereas the wicked are laughed at and derided. The leaf of the King will not wither, but the chaff of the wicked will be blown away, and come to nothing.
Reading the Psalm in this way allows us to see Christ even more clearly in the first half, as the Man who delights day and night in the Law of the Lord. We see Him more clearly as the True King of Kings, who conquers the wicked, and dashes them against the Rock. At the end, we are given the opportunity to meditate on this and are called to be wise. We must Kiss the Son, and find our refuge in Him, and in Him alone. And blessed are all who do so.
Here we find our place in Psalm 1. The Psalmist bookends this one complete Psalm with descriptions of those who are Blessed. “Blessed is the man who walks not…” and “Blessed are all who take refuge in Him.” Those who take refuge in the Son are identified with the Man who does not sit in the seat of scoffers. As we serve with fear, rejoice with trembling, and Kiss the Anointed King, we become like Him, delighting in the Law of the Lord, and meditating on it day and night. This takes the moralistic impulses out of Psalm 1’s application. We can only be planted by streams of water, if we indeed kiss the Son, and find our refuge in Him. It is Christ who is found in the first Psalm, but by the end of the second, we are identified with Him. Therefore, in Him, we are righteous, and will not perish. Rather we will yield fruit in our season, our leaf will not wither, and all we do will prosper.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
The Triumph of Secularism
Wow. DUSTY
[cough]
Been a while - a long while - since I've been back to the old Abbey. Too long. Looks like the Minstrel has been around - though not recently enough to knock down the cobwebs - and been musing mightily about worship. Great stuff. The Abbey should put up a billboard down the mountain in Evangelicalville, to invite tourists up to do a little reading. But I hear the circus is still in town, so there probably wouldn't be much response.
Speaking of circuses. The election is now over, and I thought I might share a thought or two.
First off, though I am not (as this post will make clear) an Obama supporter, I believe the clear biblical mandate is that Christians honor their leaders - even the ones they disagree with. And I think that slogans like, "It's an Obamanation" are not only really lame double-entendres, they're just plain inappropriate. That said...
Sometimes when people are asked who they are voting for, and they don't want to share any specifics, they flash a coy smile and say something like, "I'm voting for the good guys!"
I've always wished I could say that, but honestly never really felt like it was fully truthful. This year, I really felt like I was voting for the not-quite-as-bad guys. Or that I was not so much voting for a candidate, as voting against an ideology. And the ideology against which I voted seems to have prevailed in the General Election, and seems to be prevailing more and more in our culture. It's the ideology of increasing secularism.
It's not that I really expected Sen.Obama to lose. It seemed to most people, myself included - based not only on polls, but also on the prevailing winds - that more people would put their support behind the charismatic, rhetorically polished, liberal secularist this time around. The truly unexpected and disappointing thing was how many professing conservative, Evangelical Christians got caught up in that hype as well. Too many people I know, and am close to, and had assumed were well enough moored to the sufficiency of God's Word for all of faith and life to see straight in the political fog, seem to have lost their moorings, and drifted with the current.
Too many Christians have bought into the liberal position that God's Word is only good for things you do at church. For "religous" things. For "matters of faith", as if matters of faith were limited to what we preach, sing, and teach children in Sunday School. As if "church" and "religion" were just extracurricular activities that we entertain our souls with when we have spare-time from Real Life. Apparently a lot of Christians have lost sight of how God's Truth defines all of life and provides the only sure framework for rightly comprehending issues like human responsibility, the purpose and role of civil governments, the definition of justice, the foundations of righteousness, the proper use of money, the importance of objective, moral law, the objectivity of beauty, the reality of holiness, etc., etc... The idea that God's Truth is only true for those who sign up for it like a high-school elective, is a fundamentally rebellious idea. The proposal that the Truth of Scripture should be limited to the practices of the Church is the credo of man-centered secularism (I know, I know... is there any other kind?)
And it's really, honestly not that I think that Sen. McCain is the exemplar of a Christian worldview in action in the realm of government and politics. Clearly not. God knows he's not my idea of the ideal candidate. But the simple fact is that his ideals and positions come ever so slightly closer to the biblical ideals on morality, social values, the role of government, justice, and Truth than do the President-elect's. And Christians who live in a democratic nation in this world, should cast their vote for the candidate whose positions most closely resemble the values of the world to come.
I'm not so much disappointed that McCain lost, as that Obama won. And I'm not so much disappointed that Obama won, as that his self-avowed secularist agenda prevailed - and did so in large part because to a greater and greater degree, it makes sense to people who call themselves Christians. The failure of the Church to comprehensively anchor Christians' thinking to the whole counsel of God, is the triumph of secularism not only in the world, but most sadly in the Church.
[cough]
Been a while - a long while - since I've been back to the old Abbey. Too long. Looks like the Minstrel has been around - though not recently enough to knock down the cobwebs - and been musing mightily about worship. Great stuff. The Abbey should put up a billboard down the mountain in Evangelicalville, to invite tourists up to do a little reading. But I hear the circus is still in town, so there probably wouldn't be much response.
Speaking of circuses. The election is now over, and I thought I might share a thought or two.
First off, though I am not (as this post will make clear) an Obama supporter, I believe the clear biblical mandate is that Christians honor their leaders - even the ones they disagree with. And I think that slogans like, "It's an Obamanation" are not only really lame double-entendres, they're just plain inappropriate. That said...
Sometimes when people are asked who they are voting for, and they don't want to share any specifics, they flash a coy smile and say something like, "I'm voting for the good guys!"
I've always wished I could say that, but honestly never really felt like it was fully truthful. This year, I really felt like I was voting for the not-quite-as-bad guys. Or that I was not so much voting for a candidate, as voting against an ideology. And the ideology against which I voted seems to have prevailed in the General Election, and seems to be prevailing more and more in our culture. It's the ideology of increasing secularism.
It's not that I really expected Sen.Obama to lose. It seemed to most people, myself included - based not only on polls, but also on the prevailing winds - that more people would put their support behind the charismatic, rhetorically polished, liberal secularist this time around. The truly unexpected and disappointing thing was how many professing conservative, Evangelical Christians got caught up in that hype as well. Too many people I know, and am close to, and had assumed were well enough moored to the sufficiency of God's Word for all of faith and life to see straight in the political fog, seem to have lost their moorings, and drifted with the current.
Too many Christians have bought into the liberal position that God's Word is only good for things you do at church. For "religous" things. For "matters of faith", as if matters of faith were limited to what we preach, sing, and teach children in Sunday School. As if "church" and "religion" were just extracurricular activities that we entertain our souls with when we have spare-time from Real Life. Apparently a lot of Christians have lost sight of how God's Truth defines all of life and provides the only sure framework for rightly comprehending issues like human responsibility, the purpose and role of civil governments, the definition of justice, the foundations of righteousness, the proper use of money, the importance of objective, moral law, the objectivity of beauty, the reality of holiness, etc., etc... The idea that God's Truth is only true for those who sign up for it like a high-school elective, is a fundamentally rebellious idea. The proposal that the Truth of Scripture should be limited to the practices of the Church is the credo of man-centered secularism (I know, I know... is there any other kind?)
And it's really, honestly not that I think that Sen. McCain is the exemplar of a Christian worldview in action in the realm of government and politics. Clearly not. God knows he's not my idea of the ideal candidate. But the simple fact is that his ideals and positions come ever so slightly closer to the biblical ideals on morality, social values, the role of government, justice, and Truth than do the President-elect's. And Christians who live in a democratic nation in this world, should cast their vote for the candidate whose positions most closely resemble the values of the world to come.
I'm not so much disappointed that McCain lost, as that Obama won. And I'm not so much disappointed that Obama won, as that his self-avowed secularist agenda prevailed - and did so in large part because to a greater and greater degree, it makes sense to people who call themselves Christians. The failure of the Church to comprehensively anchor Christians' thinking to the whole counsel of God, is the triumph of secularism not only in the world, but most sadly in the Church.
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