america, god mend thine every flaw

I stood and watched the Fourth of July fireworks display from my driveway this evening, and at one point from a nearby parked truck tuned to the show's radio accompaniment I heard the somber trumpet playing 'Taps.' The song set me immediately reflecting on the past two Fourth of July displays I have seen, viewed from the back yard grounds of a homeless shelter. I watched the fireworks on these occasions in the company of homeless veterans, as well as other socio-economically deprived peoples.

Now I wonder (as I have before, lacking the context), how is it our freedom is celebrated so marvelously when there are those whose liberty is hard-pressed to be found?  Our country puffs its chest so proudly; truly it is full of air.

The struggle for food, clothing, shelter, emotional stabilty, and happiness on a daily basis is a far too oft told story in our country. how are these economic shackles passing off as life and liberty. Dangling the possibility and pursuit of a better life through social programs and the on-call workforce keeps a dim hope alive enough to keep wearied spirits quiet. The protestant work ethic says work hard and you will prosper, but a once true maxim has become a tone-steady voice of propaganda through the loudspeakers of an economic system that will not truly allow the low to move up. There is a glass ceiling above us all and by providence of birthplace, race, religion, and our parents socio-economic standing, a glass floor beneath our feet. 

On Leaving Ministry

I remember the first inkling I had directing me towards ministry. I shared it with my then high school sweet heart, who chastised me for it. My plans were law and hers were pharmacy. For five years, we had our eye on success. Why was that changing now? This inkling directed my life for years to come and never in quite the way I expected.

The largest changes were relational, but they were all driven by an educational change. I at some point was in love with my high school sweet heart, but that changed around the same time I locked horns with ministry. Her day dreams were us moving to a local state college and living together. This sort of forethought was lost on me completely. It may have been escapism that drove me to apply only for a private Christian school near by. This was the inevitable break. All romance was lost in that relationship, and the symptoms of that blight appeared quickly. Childhood versions of infidelity came from both directions and the wounds were this time unable to mend. No one wanted to mend them. There wasn't love there any more.

Yet, I have never been a person really outside of the context of a committed relationship. In this I over valued them. Every woman who batted an eyelash was meant to be. I'd miss the bit were relationships could be just for fun, poking at pretending to build skills for later life. In my mind, I was already the final version of me. I felt I needed to build a flawless version of myself outwardly, while knowing it isn't possible internally. No one else had this void of wisdom. On this canvas, I painted my birthing into training for ministry. I made friends, deepened a relationship with a close cousin, and lounged around in the arrogance that studying for ministry can coddle. As many young men, I was a plaguingly wrought combination of insecurity and invincible pride. Studying what those around me considered to be a fount of truth made this insufferable to others. I knew this, and it was a source of anxiety. I did not know how to handle that anxiety. I retreated into other religion majors, but still there I lapsed into arrogance even among those who were my academic superiors. I searched for a niche in response.

I found that niche in the study of language. Now, I was by no means the best language student so there again I search for a sub-niche among the only 3 students who studied Greek and Hebrew to the same degree as me. I found this in reading and writing about the almost dead walking field of textual criticism. The field was academically dominated by the monolith of Bruce Metzger. His academic heir apparent had retreated from the struggle of Christianity and was thus isolated from Christian Academics. The field was left unclothed in a wash of ever more exegesis focused academics in the vein of N.T. Wright rather than the historical context of the late 20th century. I however loved it, in a deep legitimate way. Unseen to me was that I was now a middling undergraduate forcing a specialization in a dead field with no graduate programs. Thus I was left with only one option, seminary. Anyone who knows me will attest I am not outwardly meant for ministry. Those who know me well will say I had a particular gift for it, but only out of kindness and the fact that they are the rare few who stuck through the process of making friends with me. I am not that harsh now, but I certainly was then. Maybe I still am, but my new glasses don't work as well as I think they do.

I interviewed for Seminary from the two principle choices presented to us as students at my university. They were both from the same brand of Baptist Orthodoxy pretending to be rebellious because we were slightly less right leaning than the older class. Some associates of mine were in fact quite liberal, others imagined themselves to be, others went to Southern Seminary. Between Truett and McAfee school of Theology, I chose McAfee largely because I thought it would give me some space to develop outside of the well wrought clique of colleagues in college. Throwing away stability and moving across the country is generally a mistake. There is no clarity for me on how life would have gone attending Truett rather than McAfee. I can however, that I did not have an experience of a life time. It had nothing to do with the institution, but the quality of peers. I am sure they were fine people, but they were draining to me. Mostly in their similarity to me, the constant hounding on pet causes drove me crazy. The academic were very close to my undergrad, and so I was not stimulated. I had no great love for my peers or professors.

I knew but couldn't say it, it was not for me.

In light of that, I accepted a youth ministry position when I arrived at McAfee. I had worked with youth in the summer, and I loved working with youth. That was the first glimmer of my real passion in life. I still thought it was dusty Greek. I love the kids, and I love to teach them. I enjoyed planning camps and activities. I was wonderful at building relationships and teaching. From most warm fuzzy approaches to ministry I was on the ball. I did not however understand that Church Politics was quite like any other sort of politics.

When a new head minister was hired they expected church growth. The only program that grew was my youth program. Money does not grow on youthful trees and parents do not always follow their children to church. Salaries are not easy budgets to cut for ministers already deep in their career as they do to seminarians. Everyone makes mistakes, but mine more often had me thrown under a bus. This was more stones on a tired back. I wanted to do anything else but this.

I am not sure what it was, but when my youth budget was cut I broke and resigned. I told my wife we had to move back to my home town. I dragged my little young family through a terribly discouraging time of working shifts and have to transfer graduate schools.

Life doesn't always have a grand cause to shift. Sometimes it is self hate, depression, and lost. I could not have been much closer to God's institution on earth. I could not have been farther from where God planned me to be. I could not have been farther from God.

I wasn't much closer to God managing my family's restaurant, but I was relieved of terrible pressures. In being close to family, my life was filled with relationships. I didn't even know they had been missing. My brothers, my father, my mother, they were all back with me. Managing a restaurant alienates you from those you interact with. Furthermore, being a "educated" person alienates you further from those who you work with.

I was soundly out of calling, but I needed another one. It was a blink that I thought I would go to education. There was nothing that seemed in my past to suit it except wanting to work with Middle Grade children again. I researched programs for getting a teaching license and the nearest college had a deadline that night. I submitted all of the materials then and there. I interviewed the next week and I was accepted.

I am nearing the end of my first year of teaching. I find hundred of opportunities a week to love other people. That's all Jesus asked me to do in the first place before the Greek, the classes on Prophets, and thinking I had personal growth. That was all he asked me to do. Funny thing is, it also makes me happy.

I left the ministry, and I found my calling.

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.

The Meaning of Advent (to me)

I have only become aware of the concept of Advent in the most recent years in my Christian walk. As of late, the Advent has become increasingly meaningful to me.

I have for a long time held in my mind the image of John the Baptist (or John the witness) who is ever pointing to the Christ. John the Baptist is the ideal vanguard of the Kingdom of God. He sees the coming glory of God on earth and compels others to react, repent, and prepare themselves for the coming of the Christ who will begin the restoration of order upon the creation that has turned to chaos in the hands of humanity.

The Advent season reminds me of my responsibility to also be a messenger of the good news: “The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand!” This imminent shift of the ages from chaos to God’s order and justice is brought to visibility through Jesus who is the Christ—the Messiah, the Savior, the Son of God. Jesus comes not to overthrow the political and economic systems that have damned and oppressed the people; he is not a political leader nor an economic theorist, he is the inaugurator of the Kingdom. The presence of the Christ demands love and justice for all of humanity; this love and justice causes a break in the structure of the political and economic powers. They cannot stand on a foundation of evil. The right order of God brushes away evil and injustice through the suffering service of one person to another. Jesus lives and dies as the ultimate display of the ethic and lifestyle of the citizen of God’s Kingdom. Jesus has made the kingdom real; it is not a physical kingdom because it is the servanthood of all of humanity to one another as children of God. The siblings of salvation now are to act as representatives and harbingers of the Kingdom of God, which receives its validity and hope in overcoming evil by the power of God in the resurrection of Jesus from the dead. Being raised from death is a display of God’s power to overcome even the greatest of evils experienced by every person in all classes and cultures. The resurrection gives sight to the ability to overcome the impossible for “with God, nothing is impossible” (cf. gospel of Luke) and the hope to overcome even the greatest of injustices.

Advent means preparing for the coming kingdom; it means pointing ever to the Christ as the tangible sign of God’s presence and power in the world we live in. Advent means living a life the disallows injustices and strives for love and mercy, forgiveness and just action—not for the sake of ourselves but for the glory of God in the restoration of all of creation and humanity into the order that God had created and intended for all.

Brotherhood

Like it is for many children, when I was small Christmas was the most exciting day of the year. My parents did the Santa Claus thing with my brothers and me. I know every family does this differently, but they simply set the gifts out a few hours before we thought about getting out of bed. No wrapping paper, just organized into a clump for each of us. It was the entry into the room that was the process of unwrapping for us I suppose. When we moved out of my Grandmother's house into our own house, Ben and I shared a room. It was here that we had one of our deepest bonds of brotherhood. Christmas eve night would fall on us, and we would lay in bed unable to fall asleep from excitement. It was here we would talk about all of the things we hoped we were getting and what we were going to play with first, but it was also a place where we started to scheme. I hope that anyone with siblings can relate to the relationship that comes out of mischief. Ben and I certainly could. We would get in our minds that every little noise we heard was Santa coming down the chimney to leave our gifts, and we youthfully thought we could catch him in the act. Every Christmas eve we made a score of attempts to catch him in the living room leaving gifts without waking our parents. These plans began to become fairly involved over the years and started to revolve around cookie baited traps. It was something Ben and I did together. When I moved into my own room across the hall it only increased. A new objective was added to Operation Catch Santa. We first had to get to each other, and then we had to work together on some devious plan. These are some of my fondest memories. A lot has come between Ben and me since, and the memories have certainly become fonder. My heart beats faster to look back on the days when all we had was Brotherhood.

The Will to Believe

Please refer to my post from October for the back story to this post.

The magic is gone. It took the world falling apart for me to realize that life really is every bit as terrible as people keep telling me it is. I look out my window and hate what I see all around me. There are people living on the streets and in houses that barely deserve that title. There are hungry people. There are people who don't have families. If my separation from my family, my meager housing (which is a castle by comparison), and my penny-pinching at the grocery store have taught me anything, it is to sympathize ever so slightly with these people. If I have a longing for home and security, imagine their emotions of a similar kind! I hate that these people have little choice about their situation.

The season of Advent is supposed to make us want Christ's coming all the more. It has certainly fulfilled that goal in my life. This Advent, I have been faced with a picture of the sick monster that is at the core of the world. It breaks apart relationships both human and divine. It creates greed and hostilities. It forges bitterness and despair. Call it what you will, but do not consider that the world is a safe place. There is of course goodness, virtue, and right relationship in the world, but do not neglect the existence of its dark alternative as I did.

Advent is supposed to be about the hope for a brighter future. Having the resurrection in the back of my mind, I realize that there is nothing so dark as to overcome the Son of God. But believing it is sometimes more difficult than knowing it. I confess that I am a cynic by nature; hope is not something that comes easily to me. Hope is a choice that I have to consciously make. Ultimately, I have to decide whether or not I judge Jesus to be worth hoping in. He claimed that he would bless the poor, the meek, the peacemakers, the mourning, those persecuted for righteousness' sake, and those hungering and thirsting for righteousness. I don't see a lot of that when I look out my window. I don't see a lot of that when I look at my life. Perhaps others have clearer lenses than I and can easily point it out. I urge you to do so, for mine are too easily stained with despair. Chances are I am missing something; I certainly hope I am.

I want to believe in the hope Jesus represents. I just don't know that I can. William James offers a picture of the requirements necessary for believing in something without absolute proof. He claims that one requirement is for there to be a live option in the choice. One option is that God is at best capricious and at worst malicious or nonexistent. The other option is that God truly does care about humanity as Christ's life, death, and resurrection represent. Yet it seems to me that if option two is to be viable, there must be some evidence of such today.

This Christmas is unlike any other in my memory. This Christmas, I have doubts about Christianity. This Christmas, I have to make a choice whether to celebrate the coming of a Savior and the hope that he brings or to abandon that hope altogether. It seems illogical, but option two it is.

Prepare to Be Surprised

Narrative theology is at the heart of advent. Advent is a season of preparation. We are trying to put ourselves into the world before the Messiah, and prepare ourselves for his coming. But in another sense, we are also preparing for the Second Coming. This morning in church, we read from James 5:7-8:

Be patient, therefore, brothers and sisters, until the coming of the Lord. See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient about it, until it receives the early and the late rains. You also, be patient. Establish your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is at hand.

Be patient, and prepare. This is a good message for Advent. It was not a selection I had ever seen associated with the Christmas season.

And the sermon was on Matthew 11. From prison John the Baptist sent disciples to ask Jesus if he was the one, or if he should wait for another. His doubts may have stemmed from the fact that Jesus was not the Messiah anyone had expected. That got me to thinking.

The reason we need a narrative theology of Advent is because of this very fact. The devout had been preparing for the coming of the Messiah for centuries. And when he came, they didn't recognize him. Because he came in an unexpected way; he was a king born in a feeding trough, he was God in the barn.

Today, everyone has ideas about what the Second Coming will be like. Some expect him "riding on the clouds, shining like the sun at the trumpet call." I bet many first century Jews expected something like that. Maybe advent could remind us that we worship a Messiah who defies our expectations. So maybe we need to prepare to be surprised.

-Wyatt

December Topic

As we recently celebrated the beginning of Advent, I feel rather compelled to dedicate this space to the celebration thereof. Yet I don't want this blog to turn into a Max Lucado book about Christmas; not that there is anything wrong with Lucado. I merely wish to discuss Christmas from a more earthy prospective rather than waxing theological.

In my imagination, I like to picture some of my distant ancestors sitting around a Medieval fireplace telling stories to each other. I can remember my grandparents talk about family gatherings with music, singing, dancing, and lots of storytelling. Perhaps we have lost something by losing our fireplaces and front porches; I know of few families who get together like this.

At length, I come to the topic. What are the stories of family and friends that impact how you view Christmas? How has your conception of Advent changed over the years, and who played a part in that change? If God is with us as we gather in community as I believe he is, then is there a theology of gathering and storytelling associated with Advent? If so, what is it? How do we treasure that theology in our scattered status?

I give you a lot of facets to latch on to here; do not feel compelled to deal with each. Find one that you like and go with it. Have a great Christmas.

JC

Closer Together and Closer to God

The question at hand is a complex one. Salvation is among the vaguest theological term in use, and one of the most popularly misunderstood, to my mind. This misunderstanding, it seems to me, stems from the fact that folks of different traditions mean very different things by this term "salvation." In my tradition, salvation has typically used to express the idea of justification, which happens by faith alone. In a more catholic vein, salvation expresses the idea of sanctification, which is the process by which a person is made holy. I will not even bring into the discussion the concepts of Glorification and Deification, as they are clearly outside of our reach "on this side of Glory." It seems to me that both of these concepts, justification and sanctification, have bearing on the discussion at hand.

Obviously, justification is at work in an individual's life, quite apart from the church, when the individual comes to faith in Christ. Of course, the individual has most likely inherited that faith from, or at least was introduced to that faith in the context of a church tradition. Justification, however, happens in the individual as a result of their personal (not private) decision to turn to God. However, this raises a few important questions: What has the individual been saved from? and What has the individual been saved for?

What has the individual been saved from? Well, in short, sin. Sin is what separates a person from God, and so by turning to God in faith, one somehow begins to cross the bridge over the chasm of sin and separation, and return to God. Sin also, I believe, separates us from each other. And this leads us to the question of what we are saved for, in economic -that is to say this-worldly- terms.

One can model this disparity caused by sin by invisioning dots (individuals) arrayed around a center point (God). Sin causes those dots to travel extreme distances away from the center point. And you may notice that as those dots travel outward in straight lines, the dots themselves grow farther apart. And since they are doomed to travel on straight tracks, the only way to get back into contact with each other is for them all to travel back inward to God. Likewise, as they draw closer together, they are naturally drawing closer to God.

This process of drawing closer together and closer to God I will call sanctification. This is what we are created for, this closeness to God and this closeness to each other. And so I think my answer is that in order to most fully realize our salvation in this life, on "this side of Glory", we must live in community. We must have church. We must draw closer together and closer to God.

Bethany poses an interesting question and one I have thought and prayed about myself. I also like the Augustine quote “He that does not have the Church as His mother cannot have God as his father”. But I have a deep seated problem with this kind of mentality. The Church is not our mother and the idea of hierarchy not only scares but terrifies me. To say that it is only within the local church that we can experience the fullness of salvation is dangerous. It seems to me to place the keys of heaven into the hands of flawed persons who for the most part I see damaging this world rather than saving it. Hopefully I can make my points a little more coherent or maybe it will just be rambling but here we go.

First the Church is not the mother to Christians we and the rest of the world are the bride of the Son. Who by the Holy Spirit was made flesh and has paid the dowry of for mankind to be ever joined in union with the Godhead. By calling the Church our mother or giving it the keys to fulfill salvation we lose the humbleness that is supposed to come with being the bride to the beloved. Inevitably we will create standards and view membership of the local congregation as membership in the kingdom. Salvation can be experienced in fullness anywhere because the Kingdom of Heaven is breaking through more and more with each passing moment. To put such an emphasis on the local congregations in formal sense is to cling a dying form of ecclesiology that for the most part is self serving and out dated. I believe that we are on the brink of a massive change in the church where we leave our cloisters of brick buildings and store fronts and return to society. Salvation is to be experienced in the gutters of life in the day to day.

Second this idea disturbs me because salvation is found and comes from naught but the cross on Calvary. It has already happened and is done; no building, gathering, or magical experiences necessary. We have already been saved the fullness of that is found in submission to the reality of that truth. I wish it was more complicated there would be lots of money to be made off of herding people into churches so that they can experience the cross and how it has saved us all. To claim that church or local congregation holds the keys to salvation or in the very least the fullness of salvation creates a power structure that is likely to be riddle with both abuse and monetary gains. We like to think that we would not send out Tetzel to sell indulgences but the truth is people suck and church people a lot of times suck harder. The Church is good because it allows us to meet together and worship our God, I love the church but it is Christ who bore my sin not the church.

November's Prompt

Bethany offered this as our prompt for November. I apologize for not posing it before I had my 6 AM brainstorm, but I hope that I can amend the posting order for ease of access.--- JC

"The fullness of salvation in Christ cannot be experienced apart from a church--not just the Church Universal, across time and space--but a local congregation of other believers. Do you agree with this argument? What role (if any) does a local church, specific denomination, or particular religious tradition have in the life of an individual Christian?"

The Scandal of Exclusivity, the Scandal of Schism

"There is no salvation outside the Church."-- Catholic dogma

Warning: Opinions stated herein are subject to change upon further review and reflect the author's most current ideas concerning pluralism and what defines a church.

I like the Catholic statement taken out of its context. Certainly Rome used the phrase as a means to excommunicate the Protestants and "send" them to hell. Yet stripped of that cultural and historical meaning (which I hardly ever advocate, especially when Scripture is concerned), the statement contains a glimmer of something true, even if only a half-truth. Christ calls us to community, and one will be hard-pressed to find grounds for a solitary faith in the Bible.

Perhaps this is the Baptistness in me, but I would claim that Christ calls us to membership in a church that fosters the spiritually transforming aspects of the Gospel (read: regenerate Church membership). The error of Catholicism (and many other established [read: state supported] churches) is that such membership must be voluntary; the error of Calvanism is that such membership is indeed voluntary rather than an act of God. Any other form of membership in a church prevents it from being truly regenerate as the membership is legislated either by God or by the state. Christ bids all who are weary and heavy-laden to come and receive his rest; he does not compel them through sovereign might. It is for these reasons that I am a Baptist, and I believe that the freedom permitted to the individual is most in harmony with the Gospel.

More substantial than the kind of membership is the nature of the body into which a person is to be a member. Christians have struggled with what defines a church for the vast majority of Christian history, beginning with Paul's conflict with the strict Pharisaical Christians over Gentile converts, to the Reformation, and recently to the Southern Baptist Church chaos that continues to flare up now and again. All conflicts have been over what doctrines are enough to make one a Christian and allow him or her to have fellowship with other Christians (aka be a part of the church).

How many creeds do we have that say, in essence, "This theology, and nothing else."? Does that exclude people who have had an authentic experience with Christ yet do not affirm a specific creed from the salvation present in the Church? Does it not mean that these "heathens" are not competent to answer for their own souls? Our church membership criteria, vary as it does from tradition to tradition, sound the claim of Christ in John 14:6 loud and clear and indeed add much to Jesus' words. He is the way, the truth, and the life, and no one comes to the Father except through him and by acceptance of whatever set of doctrines a denomination has.

Again, a half-truth. The other half of that truth is to be found in John 10. Jesus claims that there are sheep (read: people) who are not "of this flock." Typically when I have read this I read "Jew-Gentile struggle." Yet is this not also a question of pluralism? Can Christianity, which begins as a Jew-only movement, expand to the Gentiles with their Greek understanding of the universe? Tertullian says, "No!" The Pharisaical Christians say, "No!" Paul, Luke, Peter, and John's Jesus say, "Yes!"

Returning to my Baptistness for a moment, I reiterate that I believe that Baptist doctrine allows for the most authentic expression of the Gospel in a Christian setting. It allows for the freedom of the individual while reinforcing the importance of community. The question of universalism versus exclusivity in a Christian setting is a question of denominations. That same question in a pluralistic setting is a question of belief systems. The harmony between universalism and exclusivity in a pluralistic setting must be the same harmony between Baptist freedom/ responsibility and the Gospel. It must respect the individual and his/her encounter with God and yet call him/her into the fellowship of the Church. Any theology or philosophy that seeks to do away with one side of the tension will find itself doing away with one side of the Gospel as well.

Thus we have this contention: doctrines qualifying church membership versus God's universalism. How do they mix together to form something that works for all people at all times? I don't know. My best guess at the moment is that all faith traditions (Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, etc.) contain elements of the Gospel and that there are "invisible" Christians who live Islamic, Buddhist, Hindu, etc. lives and find their "church" in a mosque, temple, etc. Yet at the end of the day it is Christ who calls them home, and they respond having heard the Shepherd's voice before. They are not of the Christian or Jewish flock, but Jesus brings them anyway.

What is a church? I will not try to define it. Rather, I will say that I meet Jesus in the faces of the people I fellowship with in that place every Wednesday, Thursday, and Sunday. Hopefully that statement is open enough to let us all experience salvation inside the Church while preserving its Christian identity.