Romans 10

I was found by those who did not seek me,

I revealed myself to those who did not ask for me

I wonder, do I really believe this? Yes, I know the ordo salutis, I understand and appreciate the doctrines of grace.  But I mean, deep, deep in my imagination, do I really get this, do I really conceive of God like this?

Obviously this would radically reorient my own self-understanding, my identity. I know the right answers here, but I think far too often I live as if I did ask for God, when in reality I've asked for anything but.

Beyond my own self-understanding, how would this realization deep within my imagination chnage my approach to ministry, and to the Christian life in general? How do I maintain a mental balance of a God who can often be blistering in his critique of the religiously self-assured, and yet remains profligate with respect to non-seekers?  Not only this, but how do I emulate a God like that?

My prayer is that those busily not seeking God would be found by him, and that I would have a part in that finding. My prayer is that I would be found as well, again, and again, and again.

Romans 9

I will call them "my people" who are not my people,

and I will call her "my loved one" who is not my loved one.

Romans 9 is a tough chapter.  It's difficult to work through what exactly Paul is saying about Israel, the Church, and above all, God's character as displayed in his actions.  On the one hand, God will have mercy on whom he has mercy, and will harden whom he chooses to harden.  On the other hand, God will gather people that have not been identified as his people, and give them a new identity--he is the one who will call them his own people.

This morning as I read through this chapter, I think the thing that struck me most was that in all my theology classes and bible classes whenever this chapter would get referenced (which was a lot), I don't have a single memory of anyone discussing the verse I quoted above.  Why are we more interested in what exactly "Esau have I hated" means than we are in figuring out what "I will call her 'my loved one' who is not my loved one" means?

How is the Church to understand her mission in light of this? How am I to understand my own placement within God's community, and the tasks that I have been called to?

My prayer for this moring is that I would allow the surprising generosity of God to form me, and to reach into all the world through the people of his Church to reach people that look nothing like them.

Romans 8, and the Copernican Revolution

Well, quite fitting with Josh's readings from the psalter today, I read from Romans 8, a very climactic chapter in Paul's epistle.  There are so many wonderful truths to be found in this short chapter:

• There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.
• The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God.
• If God is for us, who can be against us?
• ...in hope that the creation will be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.

 

There is plenty of "me and Jesus" in this chapter, if indeed that is what you're looking for.  Though it cannot be failed to point out that the entire chapter is corporate, not individual. If we allow biblical theology to bleed into Romans 8 (as indeed it should bleed into all our Scripture readings), I think, as Josh pointed out, to not see that God's mission is cosmic, God's mission is about more than just me, is to read Scripture with your eyes closed.

I had a great conversation with a friend recently.  He's quite bright, and quite well read, and he appreciates the traditional Reformed emphasis on justification.  Recently though, he was able to hear some lectures on a biblical theology of the Temple, and was gushing to me about the connections between earth, garden, temple, city, new heavens and new earth, new creation, resurrection.

I told him, 'this is the copernican revolution.'  Though, that's not quite right, because it is a relatively recent phenomenon that Christianity has become so obsessed with personal salvation as the end-all-be-all.  But for a while now we've assumed that the theological solar system orbits around us. Or, if we want to be a bit more spiritual and humble, it orbits around what Jesus has done for us (even if we use the shorthand, "Jesus" as the center of all things, what we emphasize is "what Jesus did for me").

In my own life, the idea that God's mission is cosmic--the idea that God has been on mission since Day One, and that on Day One of the Resurrection, New Creation began squirming its way into God's world that had gone sideways due to human rebellion--is earthshattering, and life-giving. I get to be a part of this mission? I'm being reformed into the imago Dei, to act as a priest, interceding between God and his world?  I get to work for his kingdom in the power of the Spirit and watch as injustice and evil get rolled back? 

Where do I sign?

Romans 6

For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly also be united with him in a resurrection like his.

This morning's passage was incredibly encouraging and convicting for me personally: I have been set free from the enslaving power of sin. This is great news, but it leads to the question, 'why do I continue to live as if I'm a slave to sin, still under the dominion of Satan?'

My prayer for today is that I will live in this reality.  One of the questions this passage raises for me is, what does it mean for me to 'offer myself as a slave to righteousness'?  Clearly Paul is using a metaphor to discuss the cultivation of virtue, but how does one begin, and how does one continue on that path?

Romans 5

But the gift is not like the trespass. For if the many died by the trespass of the one man, how much more did God’s grace and the gift that came by the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, overflow to the many!

I can still feel the death of sin in my body.  In my mind.  In my heart. In a few more days, I'll agree with Paul's cry, 'wretched man that I am', but for now, this passage gave me great comfort.

I am a sinful man.  My passions and pride cause war and division in my heart, my home, in all my relationships.  But Jesus has given me the gift of life.  I have been made righteous through his obedience. I have received reconciliation to my creator.

My prayer this morning is that I would live as a reconciled child, and that the news of this reconciliation would go forth to all people.

strange negotiations: an open letter to everyone

these strange negotiations, 

man they really are getting me down.

these strange negotiations

i feel like a stranger in my hometown.

 

Somewhere, the Christian world is blooming.  I just know it.  I feel it in my bones, like a change in the weather.  

But I can't see it.

I can't see it because I can't lift my head out of the small corner of evangelicalism where I reside due to the tweeted bullets whizzing past, the blogpost bombs dropping ever closer, ever faster.  This is to say nothing of the closeted conversations of which I am constantly a part, here, and there, and everywhere.

Of course, I'm upset again by more fallout from this insatiable need felt by so many within evangelicalism to "defend" everything all the time. The more I hear these strident defenders blasting out their war calls, the more I picture them constantly yawning like Sarlacc, hoping for a "heterodox" whipping boy to stumble into their jaws in order that they might feed their unending hunger to play knight in shining armor. 

And yes, I'm beginning to feel like a stranger in my hometown.  The more I look around the old neighborhoods, the less I want to stay in town.  I'm not leaving the faith or anything, and my ecclesiology is too robust to sit at home and play church online, I guess I'm just sighing in public.

But here's the problem, boys.  My people read what you write.  They listen to what you say.  They track your tweets.  What may take you a matter of minutes or hours to posta controversial video clip, a dismissive tweet, or a fear-mongering blog, takes me months of sidetracking discussion, confusion, and chaos.  You're creating dissension and dischord in the body, a trait which is much more akin to the false teachers noted in Scripture than any of the theological musings you so obstreperously condemn.

Rather than feed my people something they need in their local context, I'm forced to interact with your prophecies of doom.  Rather than interact with my agnosti-buddhis-atheis-indifferen-tical neighbors and build relationships and start conversations well, I'm forced to answer questions that you have put in their minds.  You put them on edge and drive the conversation into a canyon from which it can barely emerge.

The point is, Christendom is over, and some of us are trying to get on with the mission of Jesus in light of that. In short, what that means is that in the trenches, not only do we not shoot those that uphold the Apostles' Creed, but we count them as sisters and brothers, comrades.

So please, just stop.  Your open letters have become open sores.  Deal with heretics, if they are truly heretics, in your own local context, and just get on with the mission.

Romans 4

"And to the one who does not work but trusts him who justifies the ungodly, his faith is counted as righteousness..."

It's strange to always be coming back to this point in my Christian life: do I really believe that God can/will/does justify me?  Later on in this chapter as Paul describes Abraham's reaction of faith, he says, 

No distrust made him waver concerning the promise of God, but he grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God, fully convinced that God was able to do what he had promised.

Sometimes I feel like my spiritual vitality is about the same as Abraham's 100 year old body ("which was as good as dead").  But Abraham believed that God gives life to the dead and calls into existence things that do not exist.

It is my prayer that I would live this reality out intentionally and daily: I am as good as dead, but God gives life to people like me, because he justifies the ungodly.

God is one.

I'm reading through Romans, and today I read chapter 3. I feel like Romans is one of those books that gets a bit mangled in all of our theological wrangling and wrestling, and in my current frame of mind, I have no desire to jump into that fray.

I've been slowly making my way through Thornton's English Spirituality, and while he hasn't yet made his point, he's circling around the idea that my Scripture study should shape my prayer.  So rather than ask, "what exactly does this mean?", I should begin by asking, "how does this help me pray?"

As for this morning's reading, the verse that jumped out at me was when Paul asks, "Is he not the God of Gentiles also?  Yes of Gentiles also, since God is one."  So, how does this help me pray?

First of all, it gives me joy, so I can praise God that his grace is wider than a thin band of nationalism, I can praise God that I have been brought in to a covenant that he made with a man in a distant land long ago, I can praise God that his mission to the world has not failed, and that I have been captivated by Jesus.

Secondly, I can pray that God's mission would continue.  God is one, and he is the God of all people, so I will pray that all people will come to know him in the gospel, that his kingdom will continue to come in power, and that through his people (myself included), God's world would be reconciled to him.

monday strikes again

well, crap.

thursday. morning. catch-22.

a little Joseph Heller to make the morning more absurd.

 

"Just what the hell did you mean, you bastard, when you said we couldn't punish you?" said the corporal who could take shorthand reading from his steno pad. 

"All right," said the colonel. "Just what the hell did you mean?" 

"I didn't say you couldn't punish me, sir." 

"When," asked the colonel. 

"When what, sir?" 

"Now you're asking me questions again." 

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm afraid I don't understand your question." 

"When didn't you say we couldn't punish you? Don't you understand my question?"

"No, sir, I don't understand." 

"You've just told us that. Now suppose you answer my question." 

"But how can I answer it?" 

"That's another question you're asking me." 

"I'm sorry, sir. But I don't know how to answer it. I never said you couldn't punish me." 

"Now you're telling us what you did say. I'm asking you to tell us when you didn't say it." 

Clevinger took a deep breath. "I always didn't say you couldn't punish me, sir."