This may be beating a dead horse. . . (July topic)

These efforts to continue this blog may be in vain, as it seems to have lost its staying power somewhere at the beginning of the last semester, however, I shall post and see the results!

In observation of the United States Independence Day (that is, seeing it is upon us again), What are your thoughts concerning Church and State relations? What is the believer's responsibility in and to the state, if any? What are your thoughts on God and nationalistic fervor? On observance of national holidays in the church? Of the church's responsibility to (perhaps recognition of) veterans in the congregation? These are questions to spur the conversation forward and to test inspiration; a response for all is not required or intended.

Inevitable despair, hopeful proclamation through silence.

Tragic events are often also crises of identity; every crisis requires reflection and self-questioning in order to come to terms with or make sense of it. In the midst of these trying times are a myriad of voices--past, present, and internal-- giving 'consoling' words, theories of reason, and efforts to bring the tragically stricken person(s) back to a balance. Questioning a person's moral relationship to/with God is one way that people seek to find that balance or 'help' another regain it by finding a justifying reason for tragedy.

In these times of trial I do not feel that it is reasonable or appropriate to attempt to find resolution for other people in their pain, nor is it beneficial to correct the theology of the broken. I believe that the most helpful response to tragedy, or to the theological assertions of those on the periphery of the suffering person(s) is a presence that transcends quips of consolation and theological tidbits of absurdity. To be an active listener to the pain of the one who cries "My God, why have you forasaken me?" is to participate in bringing that same person to say "Father, into your hands i commit my spirit." It is not to say that all is well, nor is it to say that all is hopeless, but it is to be present and an active part of the body of the risen Lord in whom we see the conquest of the greatest of hopeless human inevitabilities. It is to be a silent witness to the active and present work of God's redemption in all of creation and to be the hands and feet of a Lord who proclaims victory over all chaos, bringing order and fullness to the formless and void.

We should be reminded that God entered into the suffering state of human affairs, died with us, but displayed his sovereignty over all realms of human affairs and nature and the greatest of all evils. The tradition is that Jesus descended into hell and overcame it, thus it is no longer a possibility, evil is gone and we have been freed from despair by faith in God's work through Christ.

Suffering may come, and the pain is very real. Despite these disturbances, we know suffering will end. Our job is to bear witness to that end, to be a part of the redemptive process, and to help others through their times of crisis with patience, hope, and love.

Maranatha!

Taylor

February Topic

Imagine you have a friend, and tragedy strikes them. Someone counsels them to consider what sin they have committed to lead to this tragedy. What would you tell your friend? From this practical/pastoral perspective, outline your conception of divine sovereignty.

Sorry I'm a bit late on this one.

A Theology for Grief

                A little helpful background for this post is that I come from a closely knit family, and by family I mean the inclusion of my extended family. In this particular instance I will speak of My cousins, aunt, uncle, and grandparents on my dad’s side of the family, who rarely go days without seeing one another, or at least talking on the phone. Sadly, In November my Grandfather died unexpectedly. My wife and I flew back to Tennessee and Daniel and I, both pursuing education in (Christian) Religion, were assigned the task of speaking at the funeral service, along with my brother and my other cousin. 

       Daniel and I no doubt hold differing, yet similar views concerning the afterlife. It seems as I understand it that we both agree that the afterlife as understood in Christianity should not succumb to the popular theology of a metaphysical spiritual dwelling, existing with God on a separate spirit-plane of existence; it should not (at least not in Christianity), nor is it beneficial to, be thought of as a 'heaven' in the clouds with streets of gold, or any other streets for that matter.

       Daniel and I had several brief conversations over the period of that few days before the funeral about how to address this issue considering that (at least I) felt the pressure of tradition calling for some type of mention where Grandad's soul now must be existing, and how this theological perspective obviously was a source of comfort for many people. We made a conscious but unspoken decision not to address the afterlife as an existence such as previously described.  The Question then became, 'How do we deal with this now, in the presence of deep grief; in the desperate place of groping for comfort?'

           Daniel, as I recall, has struggled with the theology of afterlife and has for a time seemed to adhere to the concept of a resurrection of the dead by God at a future date undetermined in order to exist as a new creation under the reign of God and Christ. This is of course proper historical theology and this is the way that Daniel chose to speak of the future hope of ‘seeing Grandad again’ when he did (which was little). In his hesitancy to speak this way, I feel like Daniel is much closer to my own struggling view than he lets on. I tend to teeter from resurrection which has been described recently, to a position of non-existence after death, maintaining the hope of a future redemption for all of existing creation at an unknown date etc.. For myself, more weight is being placed on the latter as I get older. Ultimately our views of afterlife (or lack thereof) are speculative at best, but we chose to downplay and steer away talk of afterlife as much as possible without denying anyone any expressions useful to help them cope with loss. 

                As for the funeral service and my family, I have observed some interesting reactions and I feel that our conscious decision has had several consequences; whether merely personally perceived  because of my own thoughts, or reality, I do not know. I list them, regardless:

1) It seems to me that there is much less despair and anxiety of separation from Grandad’s person or spirit. Possibly this is due to the fact that in order to replace the gap theologically the family has . . .

2) placed much more emphasis on the memory of and speaking about Grandad’s life rather than his death and absence ‘for a time’.

3) There is an active and conscious recall and storytelling about the person of my Grandfather. This has created a sense of continued presence through a recognition of aspects of his character imprinted in each member of the family unit.

4) This narrative process has created what seems to be a mainly healthy grief process that faces the situation outright and creates a communication of feelings between grieving persons out of necessity, rather than passing it off and delaying grief by making remarks such as: ‘oh its going to be ok he’s in a better place now’ or 'someday we will see him again.'

5) For some family members, it seems to have created a sense of responsibility to carry on that character and a sort of call to abandon, or at least an acknowledgment and conversation about living lifestyles that are in contradiction to what he had raised his family to maintain.

6) Finally, If the focus is on the life rather than death, then the focal point is hope rather than despair. There is a shift from the tragedy of individual loss to the blessing of understanding that this loss is part of a larger picture, and thankfulness that this person is a part of a larger *buzzword* meta-narrative of God's action in history and has functioned as a link so closely associated with my self in that story.

                All in all I am happy and satisfied with the way in which we have dealt with and handle the death and subsequent grief process both initially in those fleeting conversations and now largely, perhaps without realization by most, as a family unit.

Kingdom of Rust

I will just be frank: I have very little idea what the afterlife holds for us. But I know what it doesn't hold, and thus I want to talk about the future of humankind in contrast to the present/ past.

Our civilizations are a single great kingdom of rust. There is nothing permanent about it, even the decay and despaired relationships that seem to characterize world civilizations throughout history. In ten thousand years (assuming that time does not end before then), some futuristic race will dig through the sands of Egypt and find the remains of skyscrapers much as we have discovered the tombs of ancient pharaohs. Our economic infrastructures, already teetering on the brink of chaos, will have crumbled and been replaced by an equally unfair system. Rulers will still misuse their power and oppress the poor. The Church will still be lost in the fog between who it has been and who it should be. People will still die, starve, be manipulated, devalued, and disrespected. Not much has changed since Rome. Not much will change between now and then.

It is precisely because our civilizations cannot prevent the abuse of power and wealth while treating people equitably and fairly that makes our world into a kingdom of rust. Our world would be a kingdom of peace if only we could mend and maintain our relationships with one another. The shooting of the Arizona representative and the debate over political rhetoric that has followed is proof positive of my point. Our nation is crumbling from its lack of civil debate and cordial deferment. We demonize and smear each other to hold on to an office for a handful of years. Is it really worth the rift that we are tearing in the fabric of our world?

I think the afterlife is a kingdom of peace where humans and God are reconciled fully. Thus every action that a human takes is an act of worship, for it honors the right relationship between him/her, fellow humans, and God. There is no room for rust in an eternal kingdom.

January Topic

For the majority of what I would call "my mature Christian life", I thought thinking about the afterlife was a waste of time. I could never see the practicality of reflecting on something that there is no clear picture about. I had an opinion of what I thought it would be, and for a long time I didn't have a problem if I told someone that their view of the afterlife was ignorant. (If you don't know me personally, know that my past is founded on arrogance.) Yet, at the base of my theology I have always thought that love held and place. This caused a problem. When death finally faced me it was something that my "knowledge" did nothing to help show love to those mourning. The little grief I have experienced has not been desperate nor particularly cold, but it has been one of the view things in life that I will sight as evidence in my theological thought. It is a pit of confusion for me, and I have to admit I am being somewhat selfish in choosing this topic. I know it will help me think to read through it.

Basically, my idea is that we should each take a look at what the afterlife is to us. I don't want us to get into one view versus another based on anything too finite, but rather examine how the idea practically reflects itself in our lives. If it hasn't, think about how it could. How do we minister from it? Should it have an effect on our actions? How do we handle this thing that is so important to so many? Whatever you want to ask, go where you want with it. I know not everyone will come at it from an "afterlife" point of view. Even if your idea of what's next is a progression, that's what I am asking about, but make sure to mention how it practically effects your relationship to others.