In Good Company

Worst. Video. Ever. Period. Seriously.

This is honestly so bad that I have nothing to say:

The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins

I’ll leave it at what the website says: “This item serves as a warning to never lay off actors. Ever.”

Little House on the Prairie vs. the Gothic South

Today I was talking with a friend about literature, and I came to the realization that certain Nebraska Writers (none named in particular, and with no comparison made to Thoreau) are simply boring because they write about Nebraska. I used to wish we could claim Faulkner as our state author, but now I realize that if Faulkner had lived in Nebraska, his books would probably be boring too.

Don’t get me wrong. Nebraska lives up to its title “The Good Life.” Things aren’t bad here; they’re just boring. There’s not a dark, gothic history woven into the fabric of the land like there is in the South. Nor is there the experimental, “progressive” attitude of Europe or other big cities. Everything’s pretty straightforward here. We’re content with where we’re at and we’re proud of our consistently uneventful history. Let’s be honest. Our pioneer ancestors stopped here not so much because they liked the land, but because they didn’t want the risk and unknown that awaited them in the Rockies and the west coast.

(smooth segue into music)

Speaking of the dark mystery of the South, I’ve found that David Eugene Edwards captures this in his music the way Faulkner does in his books. I can think of no author/musician combination that goes so well together. Edwards’ 16 Horsepower album “Folklore” captures the desperate fallenness of humanity through the particular historico-cultural context of the American South.

Some excerpts (from Edwards in general, not just “Folklore”):

Hutterite Mile
Iron sharpens iron
Crooked wooden peacock black
I have your feathers
Slung across my back
I’m not the only one
To help you down the hill
My blue knuckles do as they will

Sparrow Falls
What stands between us
Runs right through my head
It’s water still under the bridge
We come together in a horsehead union
Hang my tobacco hands from a beam
Silver handled and chest of drawers
Out of the longhouse I took what’s yours
I took what’s yours

Strong Man

The strong man he will kneel down
Whilst angels strip him of cloak and crown
Through bitter lips come vile breath
He is the last one to confess

There will be no pity for him
We must kill him where he stands
No there will be no mercy for him
Nor for any of his clan

God is Love and God is God

This morning, I listened to an amazing sermon by John Piper about why God would inspire biblical texts that are difficult to interpret and understand, given that he is omniscient as well as a perfect communicator. Piper’s main ideas were that difficult texts make us more dependent on God as we strive for understanding:

Open my eyes, that I may behold
   wondrous things out of your law.
(Psalm 119:18)

Think over what I say, for the Lord will give you understanding in everything.
(2 Timothy 2:7)

After noting this, he then went on to extoll the virtues of education’s being a God-ordained institution of transmitting not only knowledge about God, but also the ability to think, meditate, and ponder God. As I listened to this, I kept nodding my head, completely agreeing with our need of education in terms of our need to understand God more and more.

With about 12 minutes or so of his sermon left, though, he stated that he wanted to “balance things out.” He then went on to start with the premises, God is love and God is God. God, Piper argued, is both characterized in his simplicity (God is love, and he is accessible even to a simple child) and his infinite complexity (God is God, and there is no one like him). Piper’s most profound statement was this:

That God is love tends to create extroverts and evangelists; that God is God tends to create introverts and mystics. That God is love helps foster a folk ethos, and that God is God helps foster a fine ethos….[Folk] ethos revels in the intimacy of God. That God is God unleashes another ethos…and those who are gripped by this impulse revel in the transcendent majesty of God.

The point, he argued, is not to create some churches who specialize in one thing or the other; instead, the point is that we all must strive–despite the fact that we all lean one way or the other–to see God as both simultaneously simple and profound, intimate and unfathomable.

That said, I am involved in a college ministry that strives to make God accessible to everyone; I am also on the fringes of another college ministry that strives to plumb the depths of God’s infinite being. Personally, I lean toward the latter, the “God is God” side of things, but I have always been struck by the genuine nature of the faith held by some people I know who certainly lean toward the “God is love” side.

I suppose the first thing I must do is repent (again) of all the times I have felt contempt for those who have little interest in tackling the mysteries of the universe, because I bet that my intellectual nature can sometimes seem quite cold to those who gain the greatest satisfaction from crying “Abba! Father!”

Sometimes, though, this problem can be merely a misunderstanding. I have often felt that, when a person is trying to emphasize one aspect of something because he is speaking to a people who either reject or dimish that aspect’s importance, it can come off that the person either minimizes or rejects the other aspect’s importance, when he simply wished that the other aspect would be the common ground of the conversation. For example, when speaking as a Calvinist to a group of Arminians, I might emphasize so strongly God’s sovereignty and providence, that the Arminians might think that I do not believe at all in human responsibility. Indeed, we must be careful in our speech as well as in our thoughts.

Ultimately, though, Piper’s sermon raised two very large issues on which I desparately need prayer and meditation:

1. By the grace of God, I must personally grow to revel in God’s intimacy and simplicity; and
2. By the grace of God, I need to help those who lean toward the “God is love” side to see how great and awesome and mysterious and profound our God is.

Is this what is means to be truly human?

Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them

Here’s a not-so-interesting question Jacob and I were discussing earlier tonight: does the word “lie” always include with its meaning the intention to deceive?

According to Merriam-Webster, it does not. “b: an untrue or inaccurate statement that may or may not be believed true by the speaker.” Thus if I told someone it was raining outside and it wasn’t, but I believed it to be raining outside, I would be lying.

I have to disagree with good ol’ MW on this one. I think “lying” always means (or at least implies) intentional deceit. Someone who argues for untrue beliefs that they believe are true is not lying, but is just wrong. What they are telling is simply an untruth, not a lie.

I think the terms “lie,” “lying,” and “liar” get tossed around a lot more in political and religious discourse than they should be. They seem (even if MW disagrees with me) to always indicate a malicious, deceitful intent on the part of the other party which is not always actually there.

Analogy?

(Note: I revised this a bit since I posted it this morning.)

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I’m curious as to what you think about how well an analogy holds that I’ve been thinking about for a couple of years, primarily regarding Romans 13:8-10 (although other texts either support this idea or say virtually the same thing):

8Owe no one anything, except to love each other, for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. 9The commandments, “You shall not commit adultery, You shall not murder, You shall not steal, You shall not covet,” and any other commandment, are summed up in this word: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” 10Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore love is the fulfilling of the law.

My analogy is that the Law is like a portrait of the most beautiful woman (or man–switch genders as appropriate for your own gender) in the world; the painting itself is beautiful, and it represents something in real life that is beautiful, but in itself, not actually real. The portrait even could be so beautiful that it makes a man fall in love with the painting itself, but, try as he might to love the painting as he would a real person, his best efforts would be futile.

If, however, the actual woman of whom the painting was made came into the life of the man who had fallen in love with her, a real, genuine relationship with the woman might ensue. Then, when everything is said and done (for example, with a marriage between the woman and the man), the man finds that he loves the painting of the woman even more than he had originally. For example, he might put the painting in the place of greatest honor in the couple’s new home. This is not, of course, because the painting itself has become something better, but because he appreciates the painting all the more for the person behind it.

My argument from the analogy would be, then, that genuine love wrought by the Holy Spirit would be the reality, with the Law being merely the painting. In other words, the law itself is a picture of how a Spirit-filled person would live; the goal, however, is not to live up to the law if that means trying to do it apart from the Spirit. Not only would such a goal be impossible to attain, but it would also miss the point that the law is only a means to an end (the end being glorifying God). Using the metaphor of circumcision, Paul writes:

25For circumcision indeed is of value if you obey the law, but if you break the law, your circumcision becomes uncircumcision. 26So, if a man who is uncircumcised keeps the precepts of the law, will not his uncircumcision be regarded as circumcision? 27Then he who is physically uncircumcised but keeps the law will condemn you who have the written code and circumcision but break the law. 28For no one is a Jew who is merely one outwardly, nor is circumcision outward and physical. 29But a Jew is one inwardly, and circumcision is a matter of the heart, by the Spirit, not by the letter. His praise is not from man but from God. (Romans 2:25-29)

T vs. Modernity

A thought (probably neither original nor of particular weight) just struck me:

The doctrine of total depravity provides the necessary corrective against the Enlightenment rationalism of modernity. By stating that sin has affected every part of our being, including the intellect, the doctrine makes a similar critique of modernity as that of post-modernity: the impossibility of the intellect to discover objective truth on its own.

And as I’m writing this, I’m realizing that I probably stole the idea from Wright who sometimes says, “Perhaps it is the role of post-modernity to preach the Fall to arrogant modernity.” However, I’d perhaps add that if total depravity had been properly understood and taught in Christian circles, such postmodern critique would be unnecessary today.

Conquering the Qur’an

As an introduction to the History of Islam class that I will be taking this semester, our professor handed out a New York Times article from August 20, 2002 entitled, “Assigned Reading on Koran in Chapel Hill Raises Hackles.” Unfortunately, the New York Times requires people to purchase articles after a certain period of time, so I am unable to link to it. Christian Science Monitor, however, has this equivalent, but, basically, the University of North Carolina (a public university) required that incoming freshmen read a book about the Qur’an. Conservative Christian groups sued, saying that public schools should not “indoctrinate” in this way.

Of course, it has been three years since this issue broke, but, since it came up today, I really wanted to blog some thoughts I had today (as well as three years ago). More than anything, I have to wonder what really bothers these Christian groups that sued to ban the requirement. Is it that (1) they are afraid that, after students (perhaps even Christian students) read the Qur’an, they will convert to Islam (or, at least have a more pluralistic perspective); or that (2) they are simply angry that the Qur’an gets more public facetime than does the Bible? I think that both motivations play into the seething anger of this lawsuit, but I really do not think that either reservation actually poses much of a threat to Christianity.

I think that motivation (1) should raise questions about the faith of people who would sue on that basis: do they actually believe that the Bible is the inspired word of God? If so, why should they be afraid to look at opposing viewpoints? I like what the Westminster Confession of Faith (Chapter 1, part V) has to say about the Bible:

We may be moved and induced by the testimony of the Church to an high and reverent esteem of the holy Scripture; and the heavenliness of the matter, the efficacy of the doctrine, the majesty of the style, the consent of all the parts, the scope of the whole (which is to give all glory to God), the full discovery it makes of the only way of man’s salvation, the many other incomparable excellencies, and the entire perfection thereof, are arguments whereby it doth abundantly evidence itself to be the Word of God; yet, notwithstanding, our full persuasion and assurance of the infallible truth and divine authority thereof, is from the inward work of the Holy Spirit, bearing witness by and with the Word in our hearts.

The Qur’an, of course, would have no such authority vested in it by the Holy Spirit, so what can possibly be so fearful about it? The more I read the Bible, the more I become persuaded of its truthfulness. It seems to me that when we bring every viewpoint possible to the table, Christ will win out in the end, at least among those to whom God graciously chooses to reveal himself. An attempt to stifle the consideration of any viewpoint seems to betray an insecurity in the truthfulness of one’s position. Nay, but let God be true while allowing every man (and writing thereof) to prove himself to be a liar!

As for motivation (2), I have become increasingly frustrated over the years with Christians who, God bless them, actually think that Christianity’s success depends on irrelevent things such as whether or not we can get blocks of granite in courthouses and in public parks. I see our winning elections and court decisions in this realm as having nothing to do with our call to make disciples.

All that said, I think that I must clarify myself here: I think that the primary duty of Christians is, by the grace of God, to push back evil wherever they find it. In this case of reading a book about the Qur’an, I think that it can only be pushed back effectively if it is revealed for what it is: not necessarily as a book inciting and encouraging violence (I have not read nearly enough of it to make such a sweeping judgment), but certainly as a book making moral demands (not necessarily even the correct demands) on human beings without informing them of the salvation only possible through the atonement made by Jesus Christ to his Father on our behalf. Indeed, they do this by showing them another gospel–not that there actually is any other gospel. If we Christians are to actively promote the freedom of speech and of thought (which I very much think that we should do), we cannot adopt a “let go and let God” mindset in terms of how to get such “broad-thinking” individuals to narrow their thoughts to the truth of the gospel of Jesus Christ–we must be vigilant in spreading the truth even as we allow all the usurpers of God’s glory to make their case.

And the beauty of the gospel of Jesus is that we don’t simply have to muster up our own strength to save the souls (via the minds) of mankind; Jesus Christ has already done what is necessary to provide us the grace to live vigilantly if we but trust him for it. I didn’t really know, though, how to explain all of this in the ten minutes’ class discussion we had.

Oh, and the by way, I found it very ironic that one of the only Christian supporters for reading the book about the Qur’an was the faculty advisor for Campus Crusade for Christ:

Still, Fred Eckel, faculty adviser for the Campus Crusade for Christ, says that studying a variety of religious texts may not be a bad idea, especially since the school already has an energetic religious-studies department.

“As a person who supports prayer in schools, it makes no sense to object to the use of other religious texts in the classroom, as long as the discussions are appropriate,” Professor Eckel says. “It’s a positive thing to discuss issues in the Koran, and it may also further discussions that need to be going on within the Christian community.”

Blast from the Past

Here’s a fun trip down memory avenue (why not? why must it always be “lane”?). The comments in response to this post constituted the War of American Literature of 2004. Good times, good times.

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Hi, this post is all about Henry David Thoreau, REAL THOREAU. This post is awesome. My name is Andrew and I can’t stop thinking about Thoreau. This guy is cool; and by cool, I mean totally sweet.

Facts:
1. Henry David Thoreau was a mammal.

2. Henry David Thoreau tended his bean field ALL the time.

3. The purpose of the Henry David Thoreau was to live in a shack in the woods and criticize modern society.

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The Authority of Scripture

This is long and I don’t have time to comment on it right now (not that I really know what I’d say), but I’d like to hear any of y’all’s (whoa…two apostrophes in one word…) thoughts on this article by John Franke if you so choose. From what I can tell, this is roughly N.T. Wright’s view on the authority of scripture as well. You can read it in the context of the rest of the article here.

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The point of departure for this affirmation of Scripture as the norming norm for theology lies in the Protestant principle of authority articulated in confessions such as The Westminster Confession of Faith, which states: “The Supreme Judge by which all controversies of religion are to be determined, and all decrees of counsels, opinions of ancient writers, doctrines of men, and private spirits, are to be examined, and in whose sentence we are to rest, can be no other than the Holy Spirit speaking in the Scripture.” This statement reflects the concern of the Reformed tradition to bind Word and Spirit together as a means of providing the conceptual framework for authority in the Christian faith and brings into focus the sense in which the Bible is conceived of as the norming norm for theology.

The assertion that our final authority is the Spirit speaking through Scripture means that Christian belief and practice cannot be determined merely by appeal to either the exegesis of Scripture carried out apart from the life of the believer and the believing community or to any “word from the Spirit” that stands in contradiction to biblical exegesis. The reading and interpretation of the text is for the purpose of listening to the voice of the Spirit who speaks in and through Scripture to the church in the present. This implies that the Bible is authoritative in that it is the vehicle through which the Spirit speaks. In other words, the authority of the Bible, as the instrument through which the Spirit speaks, is ultimately bound up with the authority of the Spirit. Christians acknowledge the Bible as Scripture because the Spirit has spoken, now speaks, and will continue to speak with authority through the canonical texts of Scripture. The Christian community came to confess the authority of Scripture because it experienced the power and truth of the Spirit of God through writings that were, according to their testimony and confession, “animated with the Spirit of Christ.” Following the testimony of the church of all ages, we too look to the biblical texts to hear the Spirit’s voice. In declaring the biblical canon to be closed at the end of the fourth century the church implicitly asserted that the work of the Spirit in inspiration had ceased. However, this did not mark the end of the Spirit’s activity in connection with Scripture. On the contrary, the Spirit continues to speak to succeeding generations of Christians through the text in the ongoing work of illumination…

…Through Scripture, the Spirit continually instructs the church as the historically extended community of Christ’s followers in the midst of the opportunities and challenges of life in the contemporary world. The Bible is the instrumentality of the Spirit in that the Spirit appropriates the biblical text for the purpose of speaking to us today. This act of appropriation does not come independently of what traditional interpretation has called “the original meaning of the text.” Careful exegesis is required in an effort to understand the “original” intention of the authors by determining what they said. However, the speaking of the Spirit is not bound up solely with the supposed “original intention” of the author. Contemporary proponents of “textual intentionality” such as Paul Ricoeur explain that although an author creates a literary text, once it has been written, it takes on a life of its own. While the ways in which the text is structured shape the “meanings” the reader discerns in the text, the author’s intentions come to be “distanced” from the “meanings” of the work. In this sense, a text can be viewed metaphorically as “having its own intention.” This “textual intention” has its genesis in the author’s intention but is not exhausted by it. Therefore, we must not conclude that exegesis alone can exhaust the Spirit’s speaking to us through the text. While the Spirit appropriates the text in its internal meaning, the goal of this appropriation is to guide the church in the variegated circumstances of particular contemporary settings. Hence, we realize that the Spirit’s speaking does not come through the text in isolation but rather in the context of specific historical-cultural situations and as part of an extended interpretive tradition.