There are many voices that I hear on a regular basis. Each of them has something different to say, and each of them seeks to gain my ear and to tell me who I am and what I am worth.
There is the voice of the district licensing board, which tries to convince me that I have no place of service in God's church.
There is the voice of the family member I spoke to recently who told me that, in light of recent events, that I should rethink my entire educational and career path.
There are the voices of my wife and kids telling me that I am loved and that I have value.
And so it goes - voice after voice vying for my attention and competing for my acceptance. Even my own voice gets into the act, going back and forth between the extremes - agreeing with the voices that tear me down one moment and telling me I am loved the next.
For so long I have believed that my job is to learn to listen to the positive voices and to ignore the negative voices, and thus to remain "healthy." Now I am coming to believe something different.
My job is not simply to ignore the negative voices but to ignore all the voices save the voice of the One, the voice of God. God doesn't tell me anything other than that I am God's beloved. That is the voice I need to hear and to pay attention to. It is the voice that will never lie to me - it will never tell me I am worthless and it will never tell me I am perfect.
It is only when I give absolute priority to the voice of God that I can truly hear and discern the other voices that surround me.
This is a challenging task, as the myriad other voices often clamor for attention and may seem to shout down any hope of hearing the quiet voice of God. But God's voice is persistent and I know that if I listen long enough, I will hear it.
Even now.
jB
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Why I am Contemplative
When someone says that they are a contemplative, that usually brings to mind one dominant image, that of a monk or nun sitting silently in a cell for hours on end, meditating on Scripture and praying, a la Thomas Merton or Madame Guyon or others.
Obviously, since I am a happily married man, this is not what I mean when I say that I am a contemplative.
Rather, what I mean by it is best reflected by the following quote from Henri Nouwen:
"A life that is not reflected on isn't worth living."
That is a phenomenal statement. I'm talking life-motto level of statements. I cuts to the core of how I feel about life, and it defines what I mean when I say that I am a contemplative.
I am someone who reflects on life. I try not to hold a belief without reflecting on it and knowing why I believe it. Because just as a life that is not reflected on isn't worth living, a belief held uncritically isn't worth believing.
I have to admit, though, that I wasn't always this way. Ask anyone who knew me as an undergrad student at Olivet Nazarene University. I was arrogant and assured of my own views and convinced that I needed to devote no time to reflection. The credit for my transformation goes to three things: God, Henri Nouwen's books and a man named Craig Keen.
Nouwen's writings showed a man who had wrestled with his beliefs and reflected on his life, and it showed me how such a life could be lived and how such a life was needed in the world around me. He inspired me to open my mind to the idea of living a life more contemplative.
Craig Keen didn't inspire me to reflect so much as dragged me kicking and screaming into reflection. His theology classes at ONU were difficult and he challenged his students to take the time to think, to really think about what we believed - to go beyond "I believe it because I was told to believe it" and come to "I believe it because I have considered the alternatives and know that it is true." Without the hand of Craig Keen pushing me in the small of the back, I might never have opened myself to the transforming power of God.
Of course, God did the hard work of actually transforming my heart and mind and it is God who gets the ultimate credit.
It is hard to overstate how important the concept of reflection is to me. It is the commitment to reflection that has led me down the road to where I am today. It is the commitment to reflection that helps me realize that I am where God wants me to be - even if I do not have a license and even if I never get ordained.
When all is said and done, if I could pick one characteristic of myself that people would be able to see and identify, it is this intense focus on reflection and contemplation.
Because I want to live a life worth living.
jB
Obviously, since I am a happily married man, this is not what I mean when I say that I am a contemplative.
Rather, what I mean by it is best reflected by the following quote from Henri Nouwen:
"A life that is not reflected on isn't worth living."
That is a phenomenal statement. I'm talking life-motto level of statements. I cuts to the core of how I feel about life, and it defines what I mean when I say that I am a contemplative.
I am someone who reflects on life. I try not to hold a belief without reflecting on it and knowing why I believe it. Because just as a life that is not reflected on isn't worth living, a belief held uncritically isn't worth believing.
I have to admit, though, that I wasn't always this way. Ask anyone who knew me as an undergrad student at Olivet Nazarene University. I was arrogant and assured of my own views and convinced that I needed to devote no time to reflection. The credit for my transformation goes to three things: God, Henri Nouwen's books and a man named Craig Keen.
Nouwen's writings showed a man who had wrestled with his beliefs and reflected on his life, and it showed me how such a life could be lived and how such a life was needed in the world around me. He inspired me to open my mind to the idea of living a life more contemplative.
Craig Keen didn't inspire me to reflect so much as dragged me kicking and screaming into reflection. His theology classes at ONU were difficult and he challenged his students to take the time to think, to really think about what we believed - to go beyond "I believe it because I was told to believe it" and come to "I believe it because I have considered the alternatives and know that it is true." Without the hand of Craig Keen pushing me in the small of the back, I might never have opened myself to the transforming power of God.
Of course, God did the hard work of actually transforming my heart and mind and it is God who gets the ultimate credit.
It is hard to overstate how important the concept of reflection is to me. It is the commitment to reflection that has led me down the road to where I am today. It is the commitment to reflection that helps me realize that I am where God wants me to be - even if I do not have a license and even if I never get ordained.
When all is said and done, if I could pick one characteristic of myself that people would be able to see and identify, it is this intense focus on reflection and contemplation.
Because I want to live a life worth living.
jB
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Why I am Rational
I am a thinker. I like to spend time thinking about ideas and how some ideas connect to other ideas and how changing one idea affects other ideas. I am a rational person, and that rationality extends to my faith and theology.
Let me unpack that a bit.
I believe that our faith - as much as is possible - must make sense. To be sure, there are aspects of theology that we will never understand completely. No matter how rational theology is, it will not be able to come to a logical understanding of the Trinity or of eternity. Such things are beyond human capability to understand.
However, that does not mean that we should throw up our hands, toss logic out the window and surrender to a faith that makes no sense and follows no logic. As Galileo famously said in response to a church stuck in irrational ways of thinking:
"I do not feel obliged to believe that the same God who has endowed us with sense, reason and intellect has intended us to forgo their use."
Amen. I couldn't agree more. And that is why I am resolutely rational in my approach to faith and theology.
To be clear, I do not believe that we can ever achieve a faith or theology that is completely logical. But I believe that we have an obligation to seek reasonable answers where they can be found. I further believe that we have a responsibility to not cop out and hide from this task.
To some it is more important to feel safe and comfortable with what they believe than it is to do the work of having a faith that is coherent and makes sense. Rather than put their God-given sense, reason and intellect to use, they end up believing a list of contradictory things that simply defy logic or reason.
When we refuse to be rational about our faith, we have no ground on which to discuss our faith with those who currently do not believe. We end up with conversations like this:
Person A: "How do you know the Bible is God's Word?"
Person B: "It says right here...*quotes Bible verse*."
Person A: "But I'm not sure the Bible is God's Word, so how does quoting the Bible prove it is?"
Person B: ...
And an opportunity to discuss matters of faith and theology is missed because Person B has never learned to approach their faith in a rational manner.
Logic matters in faith and theology. It certainly is not the only thing that matters, but it definitely plays an important role - at least in the way I approach it.
jB
Let me unpack that a bit.
I believe that our faith - as much as is possible - must make sense. To be sure, there are aspects of theology that we will never understand completely. No matter how rational theology is, it will not be able to come to a logical understanding of the Trinity or of eternity. Such things are beyond human capability to understand.
However, that does not mean that we should throw up our hands, toss logic out the window and surrender to a faith that makes no sense and follows no logic. As Galileo famously said in response to a church stuck in irrational ways of thinking:
"I do not feel obliged to believe that the same God who has endowed us with sense, reason and intellect has intended us to forgo their use."
Amen. I couldn't agree more. And that is why I am resolutely rational in my approach to faith and theology.
To be clear, I do not believe that we can ever achieve a faith or theology that is completely logical. But I believe that we have an obligation to seek reasonable answers where they can be found. I further believe that we have a responsibility to not cop out and hide from this task.
To some it is more important to feel safe and comfortable with what they believe than it is to do the work of having a faith that is coherent and makes sense. Rather than put their God-given sense, reason and intellect to use, they end up believing a list of contradictory things that simply defy logic or reason.
When we refuse to be rational about our faith, we have no ground on which to discuss our faith with those who currently do not believe. We end up with conversations like this:
Person A: "How do you know the Bible is God's Word?"
Person B: "It says right here...*quotes Bible verse*."
Person A: "But I'm not sure the Bible is God's Word, so how does quoting the Bible prove it is?"
Person B: ...
And an opportunity to discuss matters of faith and theology is missed because Person B has never learned to approach their faith in a rational manner.
Logic matters in faith and theology. It certainly is not the only thing that matters, but it definitely plays an important role - at least in the way I approach it.
jB
Monday, March 28, 2011
Why I am Tolerant
On a wall inside the seminary I briefly attended several years ago there is a plaque. On that plaque is a quote that I cannot remember word for word, but goes something like this:
"In essentials, unity; in non-essentials, tolerance; in all things, charity."
During my brief sojourn at this particular seminary, I loved walking into the building and seeing that statement. To me, it represented the ultimate goal of the church - to be a body of a whole bunch of different theological types united on the things that really matter.
Unfortunately, as is often the case, the quote on the wall turned out to be more naive idealism than actual reality. Everywhere I look, I see people who are either intolerant on everything or dreadfully confused as to what is truly essential. People fiercely fight when someone disagrees with them on hell or on predestination or even something as stupid as whether or not drinks should be allowed in the sanctuary (I've actually experienced that fight before). I can't help but think that such people have missed the point.
I am tolerant - or at least I try to be - because I am absolutely certain of one truth: The God that I love and worship is much, much bigger than anything I can imagine.
Even when I speak of God, I have to acknowledge that the words I use are fraught with difficulty. What am I really saying when I say "God is love?" Or, to borrow a question from Saint Augustine, "What do I love when I love my God?"
These are hard questions to answer and there are many different ways to answer them - which is why I am tolerant.
In Isaiah 55:8-9, it says this:
"'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,' declares the Lord. 'As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.'"
These are a couple of my favorite verses in the Old Testament because they remind me of what I said above - that the God I serve is bigger than I can imagine. So I choose to be tolerant simply because I do not know for certain that the way I think about God is the correct way.
Some people believe that God predestines every man and woman's life. I don't. But I could be wrong, so I don't condemn those who disagree with me.
Some people believe that hell is a place of eternal conscious torture and that God's grace is limited to this life. I don't. But I could be wrong, so I don't condemn those who disagree with me.
Some people are absolutely sure that God's grace does not extend to certain segments of the population (such as homosexuals). I am not so sure about that. But I could be wrong, so I don't condemn those who disagree with me.
Do you see the trend?
The idea for me is that it is within the realm of possibility that I could be wrong about God's grace and about other aspects of my theology. And because it is within the realm of possibility, I have to be careful not to assert certainty where there is uncertainty. Such is the essence of intolerance. Instead, I cling to (again, or at least try to) that simple four word phrase: I could be wrong.
Imagine what the church would look like if more of its members learned those four words.
jB
"In essentials, unity; in non-essentials, tolerance; in all things, charity."
During my brief sojourn at this particular seminary, I loved walking into the building and seeing that statement. To me, it represented the ultimate goal of the church - to be a body of a whole bunch of different theological types united on the things that really matter.
Unfortunately, as is often the case, the quote on the wall turned out to be more naive idealism than actual reality. Everywhere I look, I see people who are either intolerant on everything or dreadfully confused as to what is truly essential. People fiercely fight when someone disagrees with them on hell or on predestination or even something as stupid as whether or not drinks should be allowed in the sanctuary (I've actually experienced that fight before). I can't help but think that such people have missed the point.
I am tolerant - or at least I try to be - because I am absolutely certain of one truth: The God that I love and worship is much, much bigger than anything I can imagine.
Even when I speak of God, I have to acknowledge that the words I use are fraught with difficulty. What am I really saying when I say "God is love?" Or, to borrow a question from Saint Augustine, "What do I love when I love my God?"
These are hard questions to answer and there are many different ways to answer them - which is why I am tolerant.
In Isaiah 55:8-9, it says this:
"'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,' declares the Lord. 'As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.'"
These are a couple of my favorite verses in the Old Testament because they remind me of what I said above - that the God I serve is bigger than I can imagine. So I choose to be tolerant simply because I do not know for certain that the way I think about God is the correct way.
Some people believe that God predestines every man and woman's life. I don't. But I could be wrong, so I don't condemn those who disagree with me.
Some people believe that hell is a place of eternal conscious torture and that God's grace is limited to this life. I don't. But I could be wrong, so I don't condemn those who disagree with me.
Some people are absolutely sure that God's grace does not extend to certain segments of the population (such as homosexuals). I am not so sure about that. But I could be wrong, so I don't condemn those who disagree with me.
Do you see the trend?
The idea for me is that it is within the realm of possibility that I could be wrong about God's grace and about other aspects of my theology. And because it is within the realm of possibility, I have to be careful not to assert certainty where there is uncertainty. Such is the essence of intolerance. Instead, I cling to (again, or at least try to) that simple four word phrase: I could be wrong.
Imagine what the church would look like if more of its members learned those four words.
jB
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Throwing Down the Gauntlet
Over the course of the next however long it takes, I'm going to be writing a series of "Why I am ____." posts.
The goal is to (hopefully) be able to make concrete and public some of the theological transformations that God has made in my life. I feel as though I have been dancing around some of these things and pretending that I am not fully "there" because I have been afraid of backlash and/or afraid of offending those who were my church superiors and who had control over my future ordination (or lack thereof).
If it has to be said, that kind of fear, that kind of hiding and evading is not acceptable. Part of what I have always believed God's call on me has been to be 100% honest, to be up front about what God is doing.
So now that I have no license and no church superiors to worry about offending, I am going to throw caution to the wind and lay out the ways in which God is transforming me.
Mostly, these posts will be for me - a way of putting into clear words things that may have been fuzzy. Undoubtedly, though, these posts will also be for others...in the hopes that anyone who is wrestling with the issues addressed might find hope in their own journey.
I'm not sure where all it's going to go, but I am excited to finally stop playing semantic games.
jB
The goal is to (hopefully) be able to make concrete and public some of the theological transformations that God has made in my life. I feel as though I have been dancing around some of these things and pretending that I am not fully "there" because I have been afraid of backlash and/or afraid of offending those who were my church superiors and who had control over my future ordination (or lack thereof).
If it has to be said, that kind of fear, that kind of hiding and evading is not acceptable. Part of what I have always believed God's call on me has been to be 100% honest, to be up front about what God is doing.
So now that I have no license and no church superiors to worry about offending, I am going to throw caution to the wind and lay out the ways in which God is transforming me.
Mostly, these posts will be for me - a way of putting into clear words things that may have been fuzzy. Undoubtedly, though, these posts will also be for others...in the hopes that anyone who is wrestling with the issues addressed might find hope in their own journey.
I'm not sure where all it's going to go, but I am excited to finally stop playing semantic games.
jB
Friday, March 25, 2011
A Biblical Account of Love Winning
As the furor of Rob Bell's book dies down and the world moves on to much more important issues, I find myself reading through Chronicles. Confession time - 1 & 2 Chronicles are not my favorite books of the Bible (though a couple of my favorite passages can be found there). More than once I found myself "zoning out" for a bit while slogging through, hoping that the end would come sooner rather than later.
When I got to 2 Chronicles 12, though, my eyes were opened as I ran smack into a story of love winning.
Cut to the story.
Solomon's son Rehoboam is the King of Israel. He's not the sharpest crayon in the box and he strays from the covenant God had made with his father. The way writer of Chronicles puts it is that he led Israel and they "abandoned the law of the Lord." In other words, Rehoboam decides that neither he nor Israel need God's presence.
Some time after King Rehoboam abandoned the covenant, Israel comes under attack from Shishak from Egypt (don't you just love these Old Testament names?). Before the battle, a prophet comes and tells Rehoboam that God has a message for him: "You have abandoned me; therefore, I now abandon you to Shishak."
In other words, God says, "You're on your own." The people of Israel had decided they didn't need God, so God was prepared to let Shishak run wild over them. And make no mistake about it, Shishak was going to win this war. He had better fighters, better weapons, better everything. Without God, the people of Israel were doomed. And God is prepared to abandon the people to their fate, to give up on them.
Sound anything like the typical doctrine of hell? People abandon God, so God abandons them to a grisly fate. So far, this story simply confirms the traditional doctrine of hell.
But there is more to the story. The people are given a chance to respond. And respond they do, in verse 6:
"The leaders of Israel and the king humbled themselves and said, 'The Lord is just.'"
They repent. Faced with certain destruction, they recognize the errors of their ways. What will God do now? On the one hand, God has already decreed their abandonment to separation from God. On the other, they are showing a sincere desire to repent and renew the covenant.
This is where things get interesting. Because if love doesn't win, God will go ahead and abandon them to their fate. If God never changes in response to creation, God must ignore their humble repentance as "too little, too late." But if love wins, God can listen to their repentance and take it to heart and adapt God's actions correspondingly.
Which do you think happens?
Verse 7 tells us everything we need to know, when God says:
"Since they have humbled themselves, I will not destroy them but will soon give them deliverance."
Sounds like love won to me.
When I got to 2 Chronicles 12, though, my eyes were opened as I ran smack into a story of love winning.
Cut to the story.
Solomon's son Rehoboam is the King of Israel. He's not the sharpest crayon in the box and he strays from the covenant God had made with his father. The way writer of Chronicles puts it is that he led Israel and they "abandoned the law of the Lord." In other words, Rehoboam decides that neither he nor Israel need God's presence.
Some time after King Rehoboam abandoned the covenant, Israel comes under attack from Shishak from Egypt (don't you just love these Old Testament names?). Before the battle, a prophet comes and tells Rehoboam that God has a message for him: "You have abandoned me; therefore, I now abandon you to Shishak."
In other words, God says, "You're on your own." The people of Israel had decided they didn't need God, so God was prepared to let Shishak run wild over them. And make no mistake about it, Shishak was going to win this war. He had better fighters, better weapons, better everything. Without God, the people of Israel were doomed. And God is prepared to abandon the people to their fate, to give up on them.
Sound anything like the typical doctrine of hell? People abandon God, so God abandons them to a grisly fate. So far, this story simply confirms the traditional doctrine of hell.
But there is more to the story. The people are given a chance to respond. And respond they do, in verse 6:
"The leaders of Israel and the king humbled themselves and said, 'The Lord is just.'"
They repent. Faced with certain destruction, they recognize the errors of their ways. What will God do now? On the one hand, God has already decreed their abandonment to separation from God. On the other, they are showing a sincere desire to repent and renew the covenant.
This is where things get interesting. Because if love doesn't win, God will go ahead and abandon them to their fate. If God never changes in response to creation, God must ignore their humble repentance as "too little, too late." But if love wins, God can listen to their repentance and take it to heart and adapt God's actions correspondingly.
Which do you think happens?
Verse 7 tells us everything we need to know, when God says:
"Since they have humbled themselves, I will not destroy them but will soon give them deliverance."
Sounds like love won to me.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
The Blame Game
My readings for the last couple of days have been in the books of 1 & 2 Kings.
In 1 Kings we meet two characters whose stories intertwine for a long period of time - Ahab and Elijah.
Ahab was the king of Israel and, to put it nicely, he was not the most faithful of kings. He violated the covenant the people had made with God by worshiping idols and marrying a woman named Jezebel - whose bad reputation and behavior have succeeded her to the point that her name itself serves as a derogatory label even today.
Elijah, on the other hand, was a prophet of God. He assiduously followed God's will and spoke whatever God told him to speak.
The contrast between these two men could not be more clear. And it was probably inevitable that, at some point, their paths would cross and they would be at odds.
The opening salvo occurs in 1 Kings 17 when God decides it is time to let Ahab know that his evil deeds had not gone unnoticed. So God sends Elijah to Ahab with a message: "It's not going to rain for a long, long time." Ahab, who is king, reacts defiantly to the message. But of course, as we could guess, Elijah's word comes true.
A length of time passes and God sends Elijah back to Ahab who, incidentally, had been hunting Elijah in order to kill him. As Elijah and Ahab finally come face to face, Ahab greets Elijah like this:
"Is that you, you troubler of Israel?" (1 Kings 18:17).
Every time I read that question, I grow increasingly fascinated by it. I am convinced that, though I want to condemn Ahab, I have to admit that I am all too much like him.
Ahab doesn't want to take responsibility for his own actions and he certainly doesn't want to face up to the idea that the drought facing Israel was a result of God's attempt to call him, Ahab, back to the true covenant. In Ahab's mind, all of his problems come down to Elijah. If he can get rid of Elijah, everything will be good.
Talk about "kill the messenger."
Yet isn't that the same thing that I do? That you do? Rather than face up to the truth that many of our struggles are due to our own actions or due to God trying to get our attention, we are quick to place the blame on things outside of ourselves.
Our problems come down to the state of the economy or to "conservatives" or "liberals." The problems are the fault of immigrants or gays or war or whatever. On and on we go, proclaiming that our problems are simply not our fault.
"Is that you, you troubler of Israel?"
Denial doesn't change anything, though. Ahab doesn't get it. According to 1 Kings, Ahab never got it, never took responsibility, always blamed Elijah.
May we all learn from this and become people who first look within, seeking the sources of our struggles and problems within ourselves before assigning blame to others.
jB
In 1 Kings we meet two characters whose stories intertwine for a long period of time - Ahab and Elijah.
Ahab was the king of Israel and, to put it nicely, he was not the most faithful of kings. He violated the covenant the people had made with God by worshiping idols and marrying a woman named Jezebel - whose bad reputation and behavior have succeeded her to the point that her name itself serves as a derogatory label even today.
Elijah, on the other hand, was a prophet of God. He assiduously followed God's will and spoke whatever God told him to speak.
The contrast between these two men could not be more clear. And it was probably inevitable that, at some point, their paths would cross and they would be at odds.
The opening salvo occurs in 1 Kings 17 when God decides it is time to let Ahab know that his evil deeds had not gone unnoticed. So God sends Elijah to Ahab with a message: "It's not going to rain for a long, long time." Ahab, who is king, reacts defiantly to the message. But of course, as we could guess, Elijah's word comes true.
A length of time passes and God sends Elijah back to Ahab who, incidentally, had been hunting Elijah in order to kill him. As Elijah and Ahab finally come face to face, Ahab greets Elijah like this:
"Is that you, you troubler of Israel?" (1 Kings 18:17).
Every time I read that question, I grow increasingly fascinated by it. I am convinced that, though I want to condemn Ahab, I have to admit that I am all too much like him.
Ahab doesn't want to take responsibility for his own actions and he certainly doesn't want to face up to the idea that the drought facing Israel was a result of God's attempt to call him, Ahab, back to the true covenant. In Ahab's mind, all of his problems come down to Elijah. If he can get rid of Elijah, everything will be good.
Talk about "kill the messenger."
Yet isn't that the same thing that I do? That you do? Rather than face up to the truth that many of our struggles are due to our own actions or due to God trying to get our attention, we are quick to place the blame on things outside of ourselves.
Our problems come down to the state of the economy or to "conservatives" or "liberals." The problems are the fault of immigrants or gays or war or whatever. On and on we go, proclaiming that our problems are simply not our fault.
"Is that you, you troubler of Israel?"
Denial doesn't change anything, though. Ahab doesn't get it. According to 1 Kings, Ahab never got it, never took responsibility, always blamed Elijah.
May we all learn from this and become people who first look within, seeking the sources of our struggles and problems within ourselves before assigning blame to others.
jB
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