Rachel Held Evans's Blog, page 40

Some words of support and love for the survivors of abuse…

(Trigger warning: sexual abuse, child abuse, Sovereign Grace
Ministries)

As you may have seen, last week, Reformed leaders Mark Dever, Ligon Duncan, Al Mohler,
Don Carson, Kevin DeYoung, and Justin Taylor reaffirmed their
support of C.J. Mahaney, president of Sovereign Grace Ministries, after a judge
ruled that that nine of the eleven plaintiffs in the massive sexual abuse
lawsuit against him and his ministry did not sue in time before the statue of
limitations had expired.

Although the judge’s
decision did not deal with whether or not the sexual abuse actually happened,
this latest turn of events is something of a victory for SGM, whose legal
strategy has been to first argue that the First Amendment gives pastors the
right to discourage victims of abuse from reporting the crimes against them to
police and second to argue that the case should be thrown out on technicalities,
such as the statute of limitations.

As we learned during
our series on abuse in the church, cases of fabricated allegations of child
abuse are quite rare, so when this many consistent counts are leveled against an
organization, we should be wary of jumping to the defense of the accused and
treating the alleged victims as liars. So it is heartbreaking to see some of these leaders stand with Mahaney and characterize this lawsuit as a conspiracy against him.

I, (and Scot McKnight
and many others), stand with Boz Tchividjian, a lawyer who
has worked on cases related to child abuse for most of his career and the
founder of G.R.A.C.E (Godly Response to Abuse in a Christian Environment). In a
statement, Boz (who is also the grandson of Billy Graham), wrote this:

This past week, I have fluctuated between
anger and tears as I read about Christian leaders who proclaim the Gospel with
their voice, but remain silent and/or defensive about the horrors of child
sexual abuse within the Church.  These leaders have once again, and
perhaps unwittingly, demonstrated the art of marginalizing individual souls for
the sake of reputation and friendships.

Earlier this week, I read the second amended
complaint filed by eleven plaintiffs against SGM, two churches, and a number of
individuals, including a man named CJ Mahaney.  I won’t go into the
factual details of this complaint here (if interested, you can read it here), but it is one of the most disturbing accounts of
child sexual abuse and institutional “cover up” I have read in my almost 20
years of addressing this issue.  Besides the horrific accounts of child
victimization (some of which allegedly occurred on church property), what
struck me most about these allegations is the systematic efforts by these
churches to discourage and sometimes prevent the families of children who had
been victimized by church officials from speaking out and reporting to law
enforcement.  Another aspect that struck me as I read (and re-read)
through this complaint were the myriad of common threads related to the efforts
made by these SGM churches to silence these survivors.  As a former prosecutor,
much credibility is given to disclosures made by more than one person that have
distinct and unique similarities…these did.

I highly recommend that you read the rest of
Boz’s statement.

But more importantly, I stand with the victims
of abuse—both those who have received earthly justice and those who have not.

Here’s what I want you to know:

I believe you.

You are not alone.

And none of this is your fault.

I echo what Joshua Harris bravely shared with
his congregation this week:

I know from personal experience the confusion, and the pain,
and the isolation that this terrible sin causes in the life of a child. And I'm
so sorry for how all of this has brought it to mind for many of you the same
thing. … If you have been a victim of sexual abuse or physical abuse, you need
to hear this from me. You need to hear this from God. You need to believe this:
What happened to you is not your fault. It is not your fault. You are not the
one to blame. And if you have been abused or you are being abused, I want to
plead with you, please go to the police. Please get help. If you are afraid to
go to the police, go to a friend, and ask them to go with you to make that
phone call. There is help for you.

And what one of the plaintiffs, Pam Palmer, said: 

"Yesterday, the defendants evaded their day in court on technicalities. This ruling was not judged on the merits of our claim. It does not indicate anything about the truth of the horrific facts of our Second Amended Complaint, nor the guilt of those responsible. Justice is a slow process and this is not the end of that process – we are in this fight for the long haul. The legal difficulties for SGM, et al are NOT going away anytime soon. We will be appealing this decision. And as reported recently on the news and internet, a criminal investigation is forthcoming. God is faithful and this is ultimately His fight. He hates evil done to the least of His — that definitely includes little, innocent children. I am so proud of the young women and men, who have stood up, told their stories and joined this legal battle, knowing that criticism or difficulties would come — and they did it anyway, as a step of empowering for themselves and for protection of other little children. That is love. That is being Christ-like. That is true courage." 

So in the spirit of compassion, I would like to devote today’s
comment section to messages of love and su pport to victims of abuse for whom
the statute of limitations may have prevented or delayed justice from being accomplished
this side of Kingdom Come. I can't imagine how discouraging that must be. Let’s offer - as best
we can in this limited online medium - prayers, words of kindness and
encouragement, tears, and support. I know that many of them are reading our online conversations. 

I’ll leave the comment section open for 24
hours, and will monitor it closely to ensure the comments are constructive,
encouraging, appropriate, and legal. 

Finally, if you are experiencing abuse in the context of your religious community, please tell someone who will help you contact the civil authorities. You do not deserve to be abused. It is not your fault. It is not your responsibility to "protect" religious leaders who hurt you.

You can find additional information and resources here.

 Also, you may want to check out our interview with Boz Tchividjia as part of our weeklong series on abuse and the Church.

Ask a Mixed-Faith Couple…(response)

Last week I introduced you to Jason and Alise Wright, a mixed faith couple who agreed to be interviewed (by you!) as part of our ongoing “Ask a…” series. To my surprise,  “Ask a mixed faith couple…” became one of our most popular installments in the series, with hundreds of questions coming in. 

Jason and Alise met in 1992 at a Christian music festival, and that set the stage for a relationship that revolved around the church. For nearly 13 years of marriage, they shared the same Christian faith. Jason attended Bible college, they played together on worship teams, and Jason led various church Bible studies. Then in October 2009, Jason revealed that he no longer believed in God, rattling one of the foundations of their marriage.

As they worked through this change, Jason and Alise discovered that there was much more holding their marriage together than pulling it apart, and they began to work in their faith communities to bring about a greater understanding of what the others actually believe and to bring about a better dialog between atheists and Christians.

Offline, Jason works as a software trainer for electronic medical records and plays drums with another local musician. Alise teaches the piano and plays in a cover band. They are raising four children together and they both love to watch a nice, loud sci-fi movie in their free time.

Online, you can find Jason’s thoughts about leaving Christianity and living as an atheist in a primarily Christian family and community at TokenAtheist. Alise is currently writing a series on her blog called The Christian Guide to Atheistswhere each week she examines a misconception that some Christians hold about atheists. She will be speaking at the Wild Goose Festival this August on this topic as well. And because Alise is far more addicted to social media than her husband, you can also connect with her on Twitter and Facebook.

I think you will be happy with the honesty, insight, and grace with which Jason and Alise responded to your questions. I certainly was. Enjoy!

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From Steph: What do you do when one of your kids asks a question about either atheism or Christianity? Does it default to one perspective, or are both sides presented?

Jason: It really hasn’t come up much. The kids know that each of them has a choice as to when and whether to attend church or youth group. Alise’s church is pretty far away, so usually those that go get a ride with my parents to a local church at which my brother is one of the pastors. They are all good critical thinkers, and most have expressed disagreement with common Evangelical positions on issues such as evolution and the age of the earth, and, as one put it “crazy stuff that happened in the Bible.” Mostly we just try to avoid giving simple answers to complex questions, whether the issue is political, sociological, or religious. 

Alise: I don’t know if our kids ask specifically about Christianity or atheism, but they might ask about our takes on various issues that they encounter, and when that happens, we try to give all sides (including views that we don’t hold). At this point, our kids have varying levels of faith and we simply try to engage them in asking questions about why they feel the way that they do, reminding them that they are loved regardless of where they fall on the faith spectrum, and teaching them that treating others with dignity and love is always important.

I will say that the way that we parent our kids changed long before Jason’s deconversion. We watched the documentary "Jesus Camp" when it released on DVD. We knew that a lot of things in the film would be manipulated to tell one particular story, but the truth is, I saw a lot of stuff that looked very normal and that didn’t sit well with me. It wasn’t that I was concerned about some of the more obvious things that might look like indoctrination, but even some of the smaller things struck me as potential for concern. I want my children to make decisions for themselves about faith and some of what was presented in that film made me question if I was really allowing that. I would say at that point, we became more intentional about presenting multiple viewpoints to our children as they would talk about different lessons that they were studying in church. It also required us to spend more time explaining why we believed certain things and I think that helped us clarify our own views.

I recognize that this might be considered by some to be a bit of a gamble with our children’s faith, but I feel like it allowed our children to accept Jason’s loss of faith with less anxiety. Already knowing that people can hold different views and still be loving, kind, and compassionate allowed them to recognize that in their father. 

From Deb: After 18 years at a large Evangelical church, including five years on the Kids' Ministry staff, my husband and I have recently returned to a small United Methodist Church we attended years ago. At the big, evangelical church it was almost unheard of to have children in our classes who didn't attend church with both parents. Even in the case of divorce, the other parent almost always "believed in God" and went to church somewhere. At our current church it is common to have kids who have been brought to church by one parent ( usually mom) their entire lives. In some cases the other parent just doesn't come to church but in other cases the child knows that Daddy or Mommy "doesn't believe in God" and the child will mention this in Sunday School. My question is: If I was your child's Sunday School teacher and your child announced to the class: 'My daddy doesn't believe in God" how can I best show the love of Jesus to your child in that moment? Is there anything else you would ask of me or like me to know, as an adult who is invested in the spiritual development of your child?

Alise: First, I just want to say that I love this question, because it already indicates a deeper understanding than we often see when talking about mixed faith relationships. One of the biggest frustrations that I encounter when speaking with people about Jason’s deconversion is that a number of people often come to me with ideas on how they can help rather than asking what would be helpful. So please know that the first thing is to do exactly what you’ve done here, which is to show an interest in the parents. That already communicates a level of caring for the child and the rest of the family that is sadly missing in some instances.

In the moment that it happened, I would mostly want my child to know that he or she was safe. Depending on the age of the child, this may not be something that they fully understand. They may have heard that unbelievers go to hell and some of their peers may have heard the same, and may echo that back to them. Elementary children in the Church can sometimes embrace their parents views and be much more dogmatic about them, so I would be very on guard for a potential negative comments from classmates and would want the leader to cut off any kind of negative peer response as quickly as possible. One of our children experienced a pile-on from peers and it was incredibly hurtful to them, so I would want to see that stopped before it had a chance to happen. 

I would also want you to affirm that the child is exhibiting strength and courage in sharing this, and let them know that you want to honor that. I think that students often take their cues from the adults in leadership, so by pointing back to the student rather than the unbelieving parent, it can help keep the discussion from turning into one about something that may be confusing and upsetting for the child, but is instead an encouragement to them.

And as a parent, I would want to know that this happened. I think it can be easy for parents and Sunday School teachers or youth leaders to live in two different worlds, but I would want to know if my child was talking about this in his or her class. The way that each family is dealing with this will be really unique, so involving the parents (and I would include the unbelieving parent in the discussion as much as possible) would be really beneficial. 

I would also discourage any kind of in-depth discussion at that time. I wouldn’t want my child’s concerns to be ignored, but I also think it would be better to take time to prepare some thoughts with the parents and maybe talk to the child individually. Are they talking about it because they just want their peers to know? Are they talking about it because of something they’ve heard in church? Because of something a relative said? I expect there is likely a catalyst for this and I would want to know what that is because that might shape the direction of the conversation. So let them know that you want to talk about this, but that you will do it in two weeks (or whatever) and that in the meantime, you are available to them to talk individually whenever they need to.

And seriously, thank you for caring about your students in this way. It is a beautiful thing. 

From Arni: I guess this one is specifically for Alise - How has Jason becoming an atheist affected your views on the afterlife, especially hell?

Alise: Jason was probably the first person that I knew intimately who was firmly in the Not-A-Christian camp. I had irreligious acquaintances before, but none who were close to me. I had always believed in hell, but in more of an abstract way, and it wasn’t something that I was very focused on because I’m far more motivated by messages of love than by messages of fear. Hell always struck me as a poor reason to believe in God. I never bought Pascal’s Wager. So I had never examined what “believing in hell” really meant.

But following Jason’s deconversion, I was forced to do that examination. I had often heard “God’s ways are not like ours” to describe the problem of eternal torture for temporal sins, but I didn’t understand how hell was indicative of a higher way when it was something that struck me as abhorrent. How could I possibly love my husband more than God does? But eternal punishment for lack of belief certainly seemed cruel and unjust, two things that did not reconcile with a God who IS love.

I don’t know what kind of label you could give me at this point when it comes to the issue of hell. What I do know is that I fully embrace 1 John 4:7. I know that my husband and many of the irreligious people that I have met over the past three years know and exhibit love. And I know that an inclusive God certainly seems higher than a God who creates people to live for a moment and suffer eternal torture.

If anything, Jason’s deconversion has made me less afraid of God and has convinced me all the more of the fullness of God’s love.

From Claire: Alise - how did you deal with reactions from church/Christian friends to Jason's change of beliefs? Was there pressure to try to "re-convert" him, and how did you respond to that?

Alise: When Jason told me that he no longer believed in God, I asked him not to tell anyone for a while, in large part because I was worried about how people would react to me about his deconversion. I didn’t feel ready to answer questions about Jason’s eternal soul and how I was trying to win him back to God, so I just ignored it.

But one of the things that I’ve always loved about Jason is his honesty, and watching him have to hide that wasn’t fair to him and was killing one of his most admirable traits. So about six months after he told me, he made a public announcement with my support.

And the first response that I received when I got to church the following Sunday was a hug. No words, just a hug. 

For the most part, this has been my experience. There have been some negative reactions, to be sure. We’ve been told that we’re both going to hell, and some of that has come from our family. I’ve had some unhelpful suggestions shared on how I can win him back to the Christian faith. We have both had to confront misconceptions about Christians and atheists in our respective communities. But overwhelmingly, people have been loving and accepting of both of us. 

I am so thankful that Jason chose to trust me with his honest self and I want to continue to offer the people the chance to show their trustworthiness. Not all have proven trustworthy and it is very hurtful when that happens, but far more have shown that they are, and that gives me great hope. 

From Jo: Alise, did you / do you experience Jason's rejection of Christianity as a rejection of you, or was it easy to separate these two things? Do you hope that Jason will someday regain his faith, and if so, how do you find the balance between accepting him where he's at and hoping/praying for change? 

Alise: I don’t think I ever saw Jason’s rejection of Christianity as a rejection of me personally. I mistakenly thought that he thought that I was stupid for continuing to believe, so I worried for a time that he might reject me as a result of his unbelief, but I never saw unbelief itself as a rejection of me. 

The second part of this is difficult for me to answer. I miss us both being on the same page spiritually. It has caused me to reexamine much of the way that I frame discussions. Before, if I was going through something particularly emotionally difficult, I might have asked Jason to hold me and pray for me. Now, I will simply ask for him to hold me. I still am comforted by that action, because I know that it’s rooted in the same love for me that he felt when prayer would accompany that embrace. Remembering that love is what compelled much of our spiritual interactions helps me when I want things to be different than what they are. Some days I want more, but for the most part, I’m content knowing that our love for one another is still strong.

From Jo (continued): Jason, do you / would you experience that kind of hope as a rejection of you, or a denial, or something else? To sum up, how do the two of you work through issues of acceptance/rejection and have you found it easy to separate acceptance/rejection of faith/atheism from acceptance/rejection of the person?

Jason: I certainly don’t take Alise’s faith as a rejection of me. In many ways, I admire it, as I know it can’t be easy to maintain faith without spousal support. I guess I’m a mild enough atheist and she’s a liberal enough Christian that neither of us take the other’s stand personally. I wouldn’t say that it has been easy on either of us (especially at first), but honestly it hasn’t been that hard, either. I don’t think of Alise’s belief as denial so much as a difference of opinion, akin to taking opposite sides on a political issue. We can’t both be right, but neither is overly interested in bringing to other to our side, either. 

From Jeanette: Jason - what were your thoughts/feelings/fears (if any) when it came to the point of talking about your change of faith with Alise? I married a Christian man who has changed a lot over the last 14 years, and now does not attend church with our kids and me, since about five years ago or so. I am not opposed to the ways he has changed - his changes constantly make me grow and stretch myself along with him, which is good! What does bother me is that he will not (cannot?) talk to me about what, if anything, he does believe now; what his opinions/feelings about MY beliefs are; what he wants our children to learn and believe in the future; etc. He supports me in raising them within my very open, liberal church community, and participates in prayer around the dinner table and at bedtime; but that's about it. I guess this is a long way of asking, how do I figure him out? What made it okay for you to talk to Alise and "come out" (as I've seen it described here)? Thanks!

Jason: I suffered from an extraordinary amount of anxiety about telling Alise about my atheism outright. I dropped hints here and there that my worldview was changing, and that I was increasingly unsatisfied by some of the apologetics that I once embraced and wielded, and I was less and less comfortable serving at church. It took the first of many counseling sessions for me to gain enough courage to just say it. In the past, our world had been built around church activities, praise music, and shared belief in general. While I hoped that she would stay with me, I did offer to leave if she just could not handle being “unequally yoked.” Fortunately, while there were tearful moments, we were able to talk through it and continue on with marriage, and for that I am forever grateful.

Other than asking directly while reassuring your husband that you will not think less of him for revealing his true feelings, there is not much insight I can offer with respect to your question. Nothing in particular made it okay to come out; I just could not continue to pretend otherwise, at least not with my wife (I stayed quiet about it with everyone else for some months afterward). If your husband cannot answer as to his faith,it may well be that he doesn’t exactly know what it is, or how to describe his beliefs accurately..That was the state I lived in before fully embracing secularism. Even after I was “out” as a non-believer in God as I knew him, I clung to religious language and heritage through a form of pantheism for a while. Hopefully, since your relationship has already endured substantial changes in faith, your husband will open up soon enough. 

From Hemant: It seems like you've both managed to make this relationship work, which is great, but I wonder what arguments get the most contentious due to your religious differences.

Alise: So we’re one of those couples who really just don’t argue very often. I KNOW. Sorry. 

I didn’t handle Jason’s deconversion with the most grace, so when he told me that he no longer believed in God, I asked him not to tell anyone for a while, but I was never really clear with him that when I was okay with it being public knowledge that I meant that I wanted to be public about it as well. I wrote some things that were unintentionally hurtful to him in those early days and while they didn’t result in any arguments, there were hurt feelings that could have been avoided simply by being more forthright.

The truth is, despite our differences in faith, our worldview is very similar. I think what I experience more than anger is sadness. Because so much of our relationship revolved around the Church, religious holidays are often times of grief for me to one degree or another. I miss our shared faith when it comes to those seasons and often feel very torn between wanting to create new traditions and celebrating some of the things that still resonate most strongly with me in my faith. That is a tension that I still struggle with often, and while it is primarily an internal conflict, of course it bleeds into our interactions to some degree.

One of the things that I think is beneficial in our case is that we’re coming from a similar faith background, so Jason is more likely to know what I mean if I say something using church-y language and can help me communicate in a better way both with him and other people of no faith. Additionally, we had the benefit of 13 years of marriage under our belt when this change occurred. Because of our shared history, there were a lot of good reasons to work through this. 

Jason: Our relationship did not take the hit that I feared it might. and Alise is right, we hardly ever argue about anything (other than perhaps the correct way to load a dishwasher, or whether Bach is interesting music). The length and strength of our relationship, coupled with the relatively gradual change of my worldview to one more grounded in science and skepticism probably softened the blow a bit. It also didn’t hurt that I was properly diagnosed and treated for bipolar disorder over the same period that I was losing my faith.. That does not mean that I equate faith with mental illness, but rather that I personally had taken some of the euphoric feelings and attributed them to spiritual visions and had likewise attributed the lows to demonic forces. Without the experiential aspects of religion, I was left with little internal reinforcement and belief just withered away. I am a genuinely more reasonable and happy person than I was before, which has to make me a better husband who is easier to get along with. Religious, bipolar Jason probably would not have lived much longer, so irreligious, medicated Jason will have to suffice. 

From Heather: My husband questioned his faith seriously a few years ago. I was sad, but never thought it would break our marriage. He ended up coming back to faith, and is more solid than ever. I, on the other hand, have had several long bouts with doubt and am going through another. Alise, have you ever doubted? If so, how have you continued to believe when living with an atheist? Sometimes I wonder exactly what I'm hanging on to...

Alise: I’m pretty sure I’ve been a doubter to one degree or another since I was able to start to reason some things out. I remember sitting in my pastor’s office when I was going through our confirmation classes, tears streaming down my cheeks, wondering how we could really be sure that we were following the right religion. So doubt is interwoven in my belief.

When Jason told me that he no longer believed in God, it was when I was going through a long season of pain from a church hurt. It was probably the closest I’ve ever come to abandoning my own faith. I was just starting to put the pieces of my own faith back together when Jason revealed his deconversion to me. I think part of me didn’t even hear what he was saying at first because I thought that it was just a continuation of a conversation about not believing in the God that we had accepted for a long time. This deconstruction of God had been going on with us for a while, so I thought this was simply a stronger statement of something we had been discussing for a while. When I realized that he meant that he simply didn’t believe, that definitely threw me. I think I just wanted him to go through the doubt with me and seeing him come to some kind of stasis in his belief journey was at least as difficult for me as the actual deconversion.

As to how I continue to believe while living with an atheist, it’s not always easy. Some days I don’t believe. When I see my faith being used to bully people, I don’t want to be a part of any of it any more. I know that morality can exist apart from belief, so I don’t think that it’s necessary for that. And I also accept that when it comes to proof, I simply don’t have any to offer.

Jason’s faith was always much stronger than my own. He was sure about things that caused me to question, so I think for a long time, I relied on his faith to carry me through. When he deconverted, I had to examine my faith for the first time in a long time. Part of that examination led me to Rachel’s blog, where I was able to find others who were struggling with doubt in the midst of their faith. 

For me, recognizing and accepting that doubt is a part of my faith has been the key to maintaining it. It means that sometimes I believe fervently and sometimes I am a skeptic. I ultimately still find enough of God in things like music and beauty and relationships to compel me to maintain belief, but it is not the same kind of belief that I had before Jason’s deconversion. I do think that examination of why we believe is something that every person of faith should do, and I am grateful that Jason’s deconversion afforded me the opportunity to do that.

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Be sure to thank Alise for her participation via Twitter or Facebook. You can find more of Jason’s thoughts about leaving Christianity and living as an atheist in a primarily Christian family and community at TokenAtheist. Alise is currently writing a series on 
her blog called The Christian Guide to Atheists, where each week she examines a misconception that some Christians hold about atheists.

You can check out every installment of our interview series—which includes “Ask an atheist,” “Ask a nun,” “Ask a pacifist,” “Ask a Calvinist,” “Ask a Muslim,” “Ask a gay Christian,” “Ask a Pentecostal” “Ask an environmentalist,” “Ask a funeral director,” "Ask a Liberation Theologian,"  "Ask Shane Claiborne," "Ask Jennifer Knapp," and  many more— here.

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Forgive Me

For my readers:

Forgive me—

When I say too much,

When I don’t say enough,

When I write out of anger,

When I write without feeling,

When I get it right (and I know it),

When I get it wrong (and I don’t),

When my motives become a tangled mix of evil and good and I can’t for the life of me sort them all out.

I wish you knew how often I second-guess myself, how aware I am of my own shortcomings, how grateful I am for your attention and input, how in-over-my-head I feel sometimes, how desperately I want to do right by you.  

I stand by the message of yesterday’s post--that the theology of "deserved" tragedy has serious, ugly consequences--but I owe it to you to tackle big topics like this with as much care, precision, and grace as possible.  So if I failed in that way, I’m sorry.

Be patient with me.

I’m figuring this out as I go.

Thank you for taking the journey with me.

10 Things I’ve Learned About Church History From ‘The Story of Christianity, Vol. 1” by Justo L. Gonzalez

A couple weeks ago it occurred to me that I know next to nothing about church history. So, in an effort to remedy that situation, I ordered The Story of Christianity, Volumes 1 and 2, by Justo Gonzalez from Amazon, and brought them with me to the beach—you know, for a little light reading.  Here are a few random observations from my first week of reading: 

1. Christians have never been in full agreement when it comes to theology. (And our little theological blog spats have NOTHING on the Arian controversy or the Inquisition, let me tell you!) But often, these disagreements and controversies lead to important developments in Christian thought, theology, and practice. The Nicene Creed, for example, was formulated largely as a response to Arianism. (The Apostle’s Creed is older.) I find this oddly comforting. There’s less pressure to figure everything out. We’re always in process, always debating and discussing, always getting a little bit right and a lot wrong. 

2. Constantine was not baptized until just before his death. And his conversion to Christianity is as big a deal as we make it out to be. It changed Christianity forever and marked the beginning of an ongoing, uncomfortable, and at times destructive relationship between Christianity and power. 

3. Calls for social justice aren’t new or trendy, but have been a part of church teachings for many centuries.  See the writings of John Chrysostom, Basil, Ambrose, St. Francis, and many others. “If one who takes the clothing off another is called a thief, why give any other name to one who can clothe the naked and refuses to do so?” wrote Basil. “The bread that you withhold belongs to the poor; the cape that you hide in your chest belongs to the naked; the shoes rotting in your house belong to those who must go unshod.”  

4. Also not as new as I once thought: bishops, and church hierarchy in general. 

5. I always thought that the Council of Nicea marked the final acceptance of orthodoxy when it came to the divinity of Christ. But Arianism—the belief that Jesus was created by God as a subordinate and separate entity, not the incarnation of God—made a pretty serious comeback, and with the support of the empire, it nearly won the day! Jerome wrote that “the world woke up as from a slumber, and discovered itself to be Arian.” Athanasius and other supporters of Nicene theology were exiled and persecuted for defending orthodoxy, but in the end, their tenacity, patience, and thoughtfulness prevailed. Also, Athanasius was nicknamed “the black dwarf.” 

6. Pretty much every time I conclude that a Church Father seems like a pretty cool guy, I learn that he hated Jews and/or women. 

7. I think it’s safe to say Saint Anthony was an introvert. 

8. In the fourth and fifth centuries there was a Christian sect called Donatism. Some Donatists peasants were convinced that there was no death more glorious than that of the martyrs, but since the persecution of Christians had ended, they committed to violently resisting those they perceived to be heretics. Gonzalez writes that “in some cases, this quest for martyrdom rose to such a pitch that people committed mass suicide by jumping off cliffs"! Point: There's always this tendency to take a good thing to its extreme, whether it's respect for martyrdom, veneration of the saints, asceticism and solitude, or engagement with the culture. 

9. Monastics have always struggled to hold in tension the desire for solitude with the importance of community and service. 

10. Gonzalez thanks his word processor in the Preface.  That seems worth noting. 

I’ll post 10 more things when I’ve finished reading! 

I’ve found that most Christians know very little about the history of the church. And we Protestants have the unfortunate habit of skipping from the epistles of Paul to Martin Luther and the 95-theses, leaving centuries of church history in the dust. 

How can we do better? 

And what have you learned about church history lately? Any fun facts?

The abusive theology of “deserved” tragedy…

[Trigger Warning: sexual abuse, Sovereign Grace,]

It took him less than 24 hours.

When news broke about the tornadoes in Oklahoma, I, like so
many others, felt a tightness in my chest. Tears gathered in my eyes. I looked
at the pictures and breathed the first frightened, horrified prayer to reach my
lips. “No. Please no.”

Then, before I could stop it, an awful thought popped into
my mind: “Oh no. How long will it take John Piper to get on the radio, TV, his
blog, or Twitter to explain to the world that this was God’s judgment on sin
and tell the parents who lost children in this tornado that they got exactly
what they deserved?”

It took him less than 24 hours to comment.  So far, it’s just been a highly insensitive
tweet:

But mark my words, within the next 24 hours, a blog post
will appear, explaining it all away. 

Because this is what John Piper does whenever there is a
tornado…or earthquake…or shooting…or war. 
While the world is still in shock, while we struggle to find the words
to convey our grief and compassion and to weep with those who weep, he jumps in
with an explanation, and it’s always the same: Bad things happen because God is
angry. This is God’ judgment on undeserving, sinful people. Repent. We brought
this on ourselves.

That’s because Piper and many in the fundamentalist neo-Reformed
movement are working off of a perversion of the doctrine of total depravity
that not only teaches that human beings are depraved—that is, that our humanity
is marred by sin—but that this depravity renders the world’s men, women, and
children into valueless objects of god’s wrath, worthy of nothing more than
eternal torture, pain, violence, and abuse. Therefore, natural disasters (such
as the recent tornado outbreak, the Asian tsunami of 2004, the Japanese earthquake,
sickness, cancer, accidents) as well as evil perpetuated by others (the Sandy
Hook shootings, the Boston bombings, the Holocaust, 9-11) are merely expressions
of this god’s unending, unquenchable, and unpredictable wrath upon humankind.
Sin triggers in god a sudden outburst, a violent temper tantrum, and humanity
is exposed to a brief glimpse of what this god really thinks of us, what we all
really “deserve.”

Piper’s response to the Asian tsunami summarizes the view
well:

"The point
of every deadly calamity is this: Repent. Let our hearts be broken that God
means so little to us. Grieve that he is a whipping boy to be blamed for pain,
but not praised for pleasure. Lament that he makes headlines only when man
mocks his power, but no headlines for ten thousand days of wrath withheld. Let
us rend our hearts that we love life more than we love Jesus Christ. Let us
cast ourselves on the mercy of our Maker. He offers it through the death and
resurrection of his Son This is the point of all pleasure and all pain.
Pleasure says: “God is like this, only better; don’t make an idol out of me. I
only point to him.” Pain says: “What sin deserves is like this, only worse;
don’t take offense at me. I am a merciful warning.”

When a
bridge collapse killed several families in Minneapolis in 2007, Piper told his
eleven-year-old daughter that God let the bridge fall so that people would
fear him. When a tornado hit the city, he blamed it on the Evangelical Lutheran
Church of America for its position on homosexuality. When asked about violent
texts from the Old Testament, Piper proclaimed “it is right for God to
slaughter women and children anytime he pleases.” 

Piper’s god is like an abusive father, filled with
unpredictable rage. His family must walk on eggshells, afraid of suddenly
enraging him. Should he be provoked, this god will lash out with deadly,
earthquakes, tsunamis, violence and war.  When his family cries out in anguish, he
reminds them that they deserve no better. They are despicable, rotten to the
core, so even in their pain they are doing “better than they deserve.” The fact
that any have been spared merely proves his “love.”

This theology is, in a word, abusive, for it blames the
victim for whatever calamity, abuse, or tragedy she suffers and says it is deserved. 

According to this theology, the children who died in
Oklahoma this week got what they “deserved.” The victims of the Boston bombing
got what they “deserved.” The people caught in the Twin Towers on 9-11 got what
the “deserved.” The victims of the Holocaust got what they “deserved.”

If you think this theology is merely cerebral, with no
real-world implications, consider the case of Sovereign Grace Ministries.

Founder C.J. Mahaney is famous for teaching his followers
that “we are all doing better than we deserve,” even when we suffer unspeakable
tragedy and pain. Mahaney is one of several ministry leaders recently named in
a class-action lawsuit alleging they failed to report multiple cases of child
sex abuse within the ministry, urging the children who had been abused to
“reconcile” with their abusers and counseling the abusers on how to avoid
investigation and arrest.  The lawsuit alleges decades of brutal sexual abuse of young children--boys and girls-- from the 1980s on, at both
Covenant Life Church, and Sovereign Grace Church of Fairfax. The Covenant Life plaintiffs even describe a gang rape where adults wore masks and the victim was an
8-year-old girl at the church-run
elementary school and at other church functions. The
accusations say children were forced to meet and forgive the accused, and
pastors failed to notify other families-- so the perpetrators went on to prey
on other children. 

Because many of the alleged victims did not sue
within three years of turning 18, a judge recently had to dismiss much of the
lawsuit, though the pastors and churches charged in the lawsuit could still
face criminal charges because there is no statute of limitations on felonies.

Despite multiple reports of abuse, and  repeated efforts to dodge investigation by
appealing to religious freedom  Sovereign
Grace ministries has enjoyed the unwavering support of John Piper, Al Mohler
and the Southern Baptist Convention, Tim Challies, and other Reformed leaders. Piper recently made a public statement, praising Sovereign
Grace and “what God is doing in it across the country and around the world.”

As Zack Hoag recently noted:

"But this is the way the false gospel works, and it’s an old, old
story. This false gospel starts with a false god
– a god who is anger. Yes,
the god of this SGM movement was said to be just that – gracious – but the
seedy backdrop behind this notion of grace is a god of sadistic and irrational
rage. C.J.’s famous quip that we are all doing “better than we deserve” is
grounded in the idea of a god of such cruelty that no matter what injustice we
may have suffered in life – or perpetrated – all is better than what we really
deserve, which is unending conscious torture at the hands of a concentration
camp commander christ. So don’t complain! Stop being depressed! And if, by some
miracle of miniscule probability, you have been chosen for eternal life by the
sovereignly electing mind of this raging god (a matter, of course, to be
discerned by your SGM elders), then no matter what happens to you
post-regeneration, you REALLY have no reason to whine!

The most grotesque allegations to come out of this lawsuit have
to do with the culture of “gospel-centered reconciliation” in this movement,
where victims of abuse – often, children – were simply told to “forgive” and
“reconcile” with their adult church member/leader abusers. I mean, it’s better
than you deserve, right? So get over it…And this false gospel of reconciliation
doesn’t stop here. It is not only reserved for churches fraught with sex abuse
scandals. It rears its ugly head in all kinds of
conservative evangelical circles, taking the similar shape of pain-denying
theologies that counsel victims to get over it and get back together with those
who harmed them. The
gospel is about reconciliation, right? So if your spouse hits you, forgive them
and reconcile. And if your kids are starving because of a father’s gambling,
get some counseling from an elder and make it work, honey. And if some friends
cheated you in business, or a church member is spreading vicious lies about
you, or a family member won’t stop manipulating you into situations of terrible
emotional pain, hey, it’s better than you deserve because you’re a hellbound
sinner too, so just reconcile with them because that’s what grace means (i.e.,
subjecting yourself to present pains presumably less than the eternal pain of
conscious torment in hellfire) This
is all BS. And
it’s BS because it twists the truth of the ministry of reconciliation into
something that perpetuates the abuse of power instead of subversively stopping it."

This abusive, shame-based theology that responds to
disaster, abuse, and pain with calloused flippancy at best and perpetuation at
worst, all because suffering is what people “deserve” anyway, has gained far
too much ground within evangelicalism. It’s hurting our witness. It’s hurting
the cause of Christ. It’s hurting innocent children.

But more often than not, those of us who express concern are
encouraged to quiet down and make nice in the name of Christian unity. This is
a mere theological difference, we are told. If the world sees us disagreeing
with one another, it will hurt our witness.

I disagree, and in the strongest of terms.

What’s worse than the world seeing Christians disagree with
one another is the world seeing Christians remain silent when their own go on
TV and tell the parents of children lost in a tornado that those children and
their families got what they deserved. What’s worse than the world seeing
Christians disagree with one another is the world seeing Christians remain
silent and supportive when their own are accused of multiple counts of child
abuse and appeal to the first amendment to try and avoid investigation. What's worse than the world seeing Christians disagree with one
another is the world seeing Christians perpetuate an abusive theology that teaches
people that whatever abuse they are suffering, whatever pain they are enduring,
whatever violence they have been subjected to, is deserved and perpetrated by
god. 

I can abide differences when it comes to theology related to
gender, the atonement, biblical interpretation, science, evolution, predestination
and free will. Let’s debate those issues vigorously, but with grace and truth
and love. But I cannot abide this theology that turns God into an
abuser. I cannot abide this theology that makes God out to be a
monster whose destruction is done in the name of “love.”

What does the Bible actually teach about suffering?

That we don’t know exactly why suffering happens in every
situation, and we shouldn’t claim to,

That we are to rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with
those who weep,

That when God wrapped himself in flesh and walked among us,
God suffered too.

The great irony of Piper using the book of Job to support
his theology is that the story of Job stands as an ancient indictment on those
who would respond to tragedy by blaming the victim. That’s exactly what Job’s
friends did, and the text is not kind to them for it, because Job is described
as “blameless
and upright, a man who fears God and shuns evil.”

It’s like the disciples, who asked Jesus whether a blind
man’s plight was the result of his sin or his parents’ sin. Jesus, somewhat
incredulously, responds, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned, but this
happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him.”

It wasn’t Job’s fault he lost his family, possessions, and
health. It wasn’t the blind man’s fault he could not see. And only arrogant
fools respond to the pain of their neighbors the way that Job’s friends
responded to his—with elaborate theological explanations, blame, and calls for
repentance.

That eight-year-old did not deserve to be gang raped. The people of Oklahoma do not deserve to suffer. 

We all know this, intuitively, and yet we let it sneak into too much of our theology. 

So if your pastors are teaching this abusive theology, speak
up. And if this theology persists in your community of faith, get out; it’s not
healthy. 

And if you are escaping or recovering from this abusive
theology, here what I want you to know:

You are not worthless. You are not disposable. You are not
merely the object of God’s wrath.  You do
not deserve to be abused.

Let me say that again: 

You do not deserve to be abused.

You do not deserve to be threatened. You do not deserve to
suffer. You do not deserve to be hated.

You are profoundly, infinitely, and intimately known and
loved. You are valuable. You are precious. You matter.

God doesn’t hate this world. God loves this world—enough to
become a part of it, enough to suffer along with it, enough to weep with it, enough
to work through it until one day every tear will be wiped from every eye.

And this love of God requires no perverted, twisted redefinition
to make sense. It is exactly what we long for it to be, exactly what we know
love to be.

Love is patient and kind. Love does not envy, it does not
boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor, it is not self-seeking, it is not
easily angered, it keeps no record of wrong. Love does not delight in evil but
rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes,
always preservers. Love never fails.

God is love.

God is patient and kind. God does not envy, God does not boast, God is not proud. God does not dishonor, God is not self-seeking, God is not easily angered. God keeps no record of wrong. God does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. God always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. God never fails.

And those Christians who speak eloquently, and prophecy, and
claim to fathom all mysteries and knowledge, but do not exhibit this kind of love
do not know God. They are just clanging cymbals, distracting us from the gentle
whisper that affirms what we already know, deep inside: We are known. We are
loved. We are worth dying for.

And I believe, with every ounce of my being, that this God weeps with us
today.

***

For an alternative to this theology, check out Greg Boyd's sermon "Escaping the Twilight Zone God."

Ask a Mixed-Faith Couple…

I often receive messages from readers asking for advice on how to respond when they learn a spouse has left the Christian faith. So this morning I am thrilled to introduce you to Jason and Alise Wright, a mixed-faith couple who writes about this topic often and who have graciously agreed to share their insights and advice as part of our ongoing “Ask a…” interview series. 

Jason and Alise met in 1992 at a Christian music festival, and that set the stage for a relationship that revolved around the church. For nearly 13 years of marriage, they shared the same Christian faith. Jason attended Bible college, they played together on worship teams, and Jason led various church Bible studies. Then in October 2009, Jason revealed that he no longer believed in God, rattling one of the foundations of their marriage.

As they worked through this change, Jason and Alise discovered that there was much more holding their marriage together than pulling it apart, and they began to work in their faith communities to bring about a greater understanding of what the others actually believe and to bring about a better dialog between atheists and Christians.

Offline, Jason works as a software trainer for electronic medical records and plays drums with another local musician. Alise teaches the piano and plays in a cover band. They are raising four children together and they both love to watch a nice, loud sci-fi movie in their free time.

Online, you can find Jason’s thoughts about leaving Christianity and living as an atheist in a primarily Christian family and community at TokenAtheist. Alise is currently writing a series on her blog called The Christian Guide to Atheists where each week she examines a misconception that some Christians hold about atheists. She will be speaking at the Wild Goose Festival this August on this topic as well. And because Alise is far more addicted to social media than her husband, you can also connect with her on Twitter and Facebook.

You know the drill. If you have a question for Jason and/or Alise, leave it in the comment section. Be sure to utilize the "like" feature so we can get a sense of what questions are of most interest to you. After 24-hours, I'll pose seven of the most popular questions to Jason and Alise and post their responses next week.

Ask away!

(You can check out every installment of our interview series—which includes “Ask an atheist,” “Ask a nun,” “Ask a pacifist,” “Ask a Calvinist,” “Ask a Muslim,” “Ask a gay Christian,” “Ask a Pentecostal” “Ask an environmentalist,” “Ask a funeral director,” "Ask a Liberation Theologian,"  "Ask Shane Claiborne," "Ask Jennifer Knapp," and  many more— here.) 

Saturday Superlatives 5/18/2013 (and see you in Chesapeake, Virginia!)

Team Dan & Rachel go to the beach (OBX) 

Once again, I’m posting early because this evening and tomorrow morning I’ll be hanging out with the good folks of Centerville Baptist Church in Chesapeake, Virginia. On Saturday evening, at 6:30 p.m., I’ll be sharing about my year of biblical womanhood, and on Sunday morning, at 10:30 a.m., I’ll be speaking on “the wilderness” in the morning service. Both events are free and open to the public. Childcare is provided. Let me know if I will see you there! (More info here.)

Now on to Superlatives…

Around the Web…

Funniest: 
Lindy West at Jezebel with “A Great Gatsby Book Report By a Kid Who Only Saw the Movie” 

“The Great Gatsby is a very important and famous book which tells its story through many pages, all of which I enjoyed reading very much. It was written by F. Scott Fitzgerald, who lived from 1896 to 1940 and truly wrote many books. Through its use of characters, garbage falling from the sky all the time, and black people constantly playing the trumpet on a fire escape, The Great Gatsby is truly a book by F. Scott Fitzgerald about how you shouldn't just buy a castle near your ex-girlfriend in the 1920s and then wait for her to fall back in love with you, because eventually you might get murdered by a poor person.”

Wisest: 
Stephen Mattson at Sojourners with “Christians: It’s Not a SIN to Change Your Beliefs”

“But theology — our study and beliefs about God — should be a natural process involving change instead of avoiding it. Our God is too big and too wonderful to completely understand by the time we graduate high school, or college, or get married, or have children, or retire. Our life experiences, relationships, education, exposure to different cultures and perspectives continually affect the way we look at God. Our faith is a journey, a Pilgrim’s Progress, and our theology will change. And while we may not agree with a person’s new theological belief, we need to stop seeing the inherent nature of change as something negative.”

Coolest:
The National Geographic Traveler Magazine photo contest entries and winners

Bravest:
Jen Hatmaker with “Examining Adoption Ethics: Part One” 

“There are very real orphans all over the earth, but most of us don’t pursue the kids there are; we pursue the kids we want, and these countries know the score. Older kids stay on waiting children lists, while the baby line is hundreds deep. It doesn’t take long for opportunists to figure this out… With much of the adoption pipeline supplied by corruption and confusion, we cannot possibly claim God’s sovereignty. We need to call it what it is: an injustice God would never endorse. It is time to stop participating in the type of adoption that encourages able-bodied parents to give up their children or get pregnant to supply a baby for a paycheck. We cannot be complicit in what amounts to trafficking.”

Smartest: 
Laura Ziesel with “Was Jesus the Bible Incarnate?” 

“My observation is that people read John 1 this way: ‘In the beginning was the Bible, and the Bible was with God, and the Bible was God..... And the Bible became flesh and lived among us.’ And that, my friends, is not what John was saying.”

Most Surprising: 
Scot McKnight (citing Ken Stewart) with “Calvinism and Women”

“…It is necessary for us now to recognize that portions of the Reformed world today fall well behind Calvin’s own demonstrated sixteenth-century readiness to capitalize on the then-expanding influence of women in kingdom work.” 

Most Eye-Opening (and Frustrating and Infuriating): 
NPR with “The Hidden Cost of the Drone Program” 

“Bryant's second shot is another he won't soon forget. On a routine mission, he was ordered to fire a missile at a house with three suspected militants inside. Moments before the missile hit, Bryant says he saw something run around the corner of the building. ‘It looked like a small person," he says. "[There] is no doubt in my mind that that was not an adult’  The missile hit, and afterward there was no sign of the person. It was the end of Bryant's shift, and as he walked out into the early morning sun in Nevada, he says he didn't feel distraught like he did after his first shot. He felt numb…”

Most Helpful: 
Kathy Escobar with “What Seems to Help in the Midst of Pain”

“less words, more presence.  i have a theory that we often have an unconscious hope that if we could  say the right words in the exact right way, it would radically help another person. most people aren’t one sentence away from feeling better when they are in pain.  presence seems to matter more than words.  long-haul-ness goes the furthest for those in pain. many people are eager to help and support g at the beginning of pain eruptions, but over time many people drop off and quit wondering how we’re doing. safe people don’t do drive-by pain relief.  they are in it for the long haul, which i keep realizing is sometimes the hardest thing of all.”

Most Encouraging: 
Emily Freeman with “12 Things Your Daughter Needs You to Say” 

"2. Live with God rather than for God. It is common to tell young people to live their lives for God. And though I get the sentiment, I have seen how telling her to live for God can be confusing. The truth is the life she now lives, she lives by faith in Jesus. To tell her to live for God could lead her to try to perform for acceptance rather than living from the acceptance that is already hers in Christ. God isn’t sitting out in the audience of her life, waiting for her to get things in order. No, he’s standing with her on stage. Even better, he stands within her. Remind her of her kind, compassionate, powerful companion who goes with her wherever she goes."

Most Fun:
GeoGuess.com

Most Powerful: 
Zack Hoag with “A False Gospel of Reconciliation” 

“And this false gospel of reconciliation doesn’t stop here. It is not only reserved for churches fraught with sex abuse scandals. It rears its ugly head in all kinds of conservative evangelical circles, taking the similar shape of pain-denying theologies that counsel victims to get over it and get back together with those who harmed them. The gospel is about reconciliation, right? So if your spouse hits you, forgive them and reconcile. And if your kids are starving because of a father’s gambling, get some counseling from an elder and make it work, honey. And if some friends cheated you in business, or a church member is spreading vicious lies about you, or a family member won’t stop manipulating you into situations of terrible emotional pain, hey, it’s better than you deserve because you’re a hellbound sinner too, so just reconcile with them because that’s what grace means (i.e., subjecting yourself to present pains presumably less than the eternal pain of conscious torment in hellfire). This is all BS. And it’s BS because it twists the truth of the ministry of reconciliation into something that perpetuates the abuse of power instead of subversively stopping it.”

Most Relatable (nominated by Kelly Youngblood): 
Caris Adel with “Paralyzed by the Slash” 

“ I’m not called to complacency or ignorance, but I’m also not called to perfection.”

Most Heartbreaking (and Hopeful)
Registered Runaway with “Psalm 55: Betrayed” 

“Instead he starts off the service with a word on the same-sex marriage bill that passed the house last week. And I drop my head because it sounds like an incoming train and I feel like I’m stuck to the tracks. From my chest to my throat to my eyes, I am busted up. I am entering into an anxiety attack and I know it. I know what’s coming. I hear him start with the disclaimer- that I matter to God… but then it is like I don’t matter to God. Like I hate truth. Like I don’t belong here. I’m alarmed when the crowd claps at the punchline and suddenly this megachurch compresses to a closet. I look over at my mom. She is fidgeting. Her head is tilted forward and her eyes are brimming with tears. I lean over and whisper, “I have to go.” I slip down the row and blow past the greeter. I throw open the doors until I am almost outside where there is Air. And it’s then that I hear my sister chasing me. She’s throwing her arms around me, holding me up because I can’t hold myself anymore. I’m still short of breath. I still feel that knife twisting in my gut. And then I see my mom marching out behind us..."

Best Imagery: 
Christena Cleveland with “Searching for Pentecost” 

“…In order to fully embrace the kingdom of God we must turn our backs on Babel and turn toward the Spirit of Pentecost. Only then will we truly live out our calling as the people of God. Paul, Peter, Luke, John, James and the writer of Hebrews repeatedly and emphatically make the same point: the unified church is the vehicle through which the kingdom of God is powerfully communicated to the world. A church that is still operating under the curse of Babel is a disempowered church.”

Best Insight: 
Sarah Bessey with “In which they are overlooked in a sea of hipsters” 

"A few months ago, I requested stories or anecdotes about how it feels to be a woman in the church. I was more than a little overwhelmed by the responses, both the sheer number and the content, but I did my best to respond to each one. Women filled my inbox with stories – beautiful and horrible, hurtful and empowering – about their experiences within the institutions of Christianity. After all my research, I thought I knew what to expect. And sure enough, there were the stories about women feeling marginalized because they are not married or do not/ cannot have children; stories about women who had men turn their backs when they stood up to preach their first sermon; stories about women who stayed in abusive marriages because of their church teachings; a lot of affirming women who found their voice  and healing within church. But one theme emerged that I hadn’t looked for, over and over: Women, in the middle of their lives, who felt invisible and ignored by the church, the same way they feel invisible or ignored in our culture.”

Best Freedom Song (nominated by Jamie Bagley): 
Likoko Eunice at She Loves with “I Want to Be Free” 

“I want to be free. Free to be a child and not sell my body to fend for my siblings. Free to dream and have options, options that allow my dreams to be realized. Free to raise my children in normalcy and stability. Free to have a decent, legal, stable and honorable occupation. Free to tell my family what I do for a living—and not have my life shrouded in secrecy and lies. I want to be free."

Best Sermon: 
Jonathan Martin with “Obscurity” 

Best Analysis: 
Kristen Howerton with “Six Reasons The #FitchTheHomeless Campaign in Problematic” 

“It’s using the homeless a props and inviting others to do the same. This campaign is not social protest. This is a gimmick – an exploitive gimmick – that preys on the homeless as props. It’s cruel and dehumanizing.”

In My Headphones... 

Matrimony: “The Storm & The Eye” 

On the Blog…

Most Popular Post:
“Is God’s Presence Limited to Scripture?”

Most Popular Comment: 
In response to “Is God’s Presence Limited to Scripture?” Allan wrote: 

“At what point does the Bible become an idol and actually replace the Jesus we worship? This is my biggest frustration with the reformed movement. So many times in discussions people have said, "well I don’t know what you believe but I believe the Bible," as if that is the end of the discussion and the doubts and as if I don't believe the Bible. Reformed Evangelicals seem so scared that someone, somewhere is experiencing our infinite God differently than themselves and they can't seem to think that our God is bigger than our doctrines.”

***

So, what caught your eye online this week? What’s happening on your blog?

Ask a Recovering Alcoholic...(Response)

Our friend Heather Kopp did an amazing job responding to your questions for "Ask a Recovering Alcoholic..."  

Heather is an author, editor, and blogger at HeatherKopp.com. She’s published more than two-dozen non-fiction books. Her recovery memoir,  Sober Mercies: How Love Caught Up with a Christian Drunk   (Hachette/Jericho) releases TODAY, May 7. 

As a long-time Christian, Heather never expected to become an out-of-control alcoholic who kept private stashes of booze all over the place—tucked behind books in her study, zipped into a special compartment in her oversized purse, at the back of her closet stuffed inside her boots. 

In Sober Mercies, Heather shares her journey into darkness…and back to the light again. Her story reveals the unique challenges and spiritual conundrums Christians face when they become ensnared in an addiction, and the redemption that’s possible when we finally reach the end of ourselves. 

I had the pleasure of reading an advance review copy of Heather's book, and absolutely loved it. I was surprised by how little I knew about alcoholism, particularly how hard it can be for recovering alcoholics to be surrounded by social drinkers who aren't always sensitive to the challenges their friends in recovery face. I found Heather's chapters about her twelve-step group inspiring and challenging, a little picture of what the church is meant to be.  Heather's story--honestly and beautifully told--invites us all to the table, baggage in tow, to confront our shared brokenness, our shared hopes, and our shared need for community, forgiveness, and grace.

I hope you learn as much from Heather's responses as I did!

***

From
Paula: What is that you wish pastors knew about alcoholism? What can the
church community do to walk along side those struggling with addiction?

I wish more pastors
didn’t still view addiction in primarily moral terms. Yes, addictive behaviors often
begin with a moral failing like selfishness or overindulgence. But full-blown
addiction involves physiological and psychological components that go beyond
sin or even choice. Trying harder, reading the Bible more, or praying more are
rarely the solution. 

I don’t think the answer is for churches
to get more involved in diagnoses or administering recovery. But I do think they could do more to bring
awareness to the issue, help people feel safe enough to admit to addictions,
and help them connect with professional help or recovery groups. Thankfully,
many already do this.

I know from
personal experience that pastors can communicate shame or reinforcement of
stigma without ever uttering the word “addict” from the pulpit. This is
especially true when a church puts a strong emphasis on people being delivered
from any bondage or weakness through repentance alone. When a pastor declares
that “Jesus is the answer” to all our problems, he is implying that reaching
for outside help is a show of weakness or lack of faith. We’re over that when
it comes to appendicitis—alcoholism, not so much.

I spent more than
twelve years trying to overcome alcoholism through prayer, repentance, doubling
down on devotions, and begging God for miraculous deliverance. It didn’t get me
sober. What it did, though, was make me doubt my own faith, doubt the Bible,
doubt God’s love for me. An active alcoholic—that was me—who wants to get sober
but can’t, and who is coming to believe that every good thing she once thought
about God is a lie, is in a scary place.

I think we do
people a huge disservice when our message is: If you’re truly a Christian, you should be able to pray and repent your
way out of this! Or worse: If you
can’t pray and repent your way out of your addiction, you’re probably not a
Christian.

One concrete way many
churches support recovery is to make their buildings available for meetings—even
for recovery groups that aren’t exclusively Christian. Lots of churches and
hospitals already do this and I’m grateful every
single week.

Plus, simply
listing in the bulletin that such a meeting takes place on the premises speaks
volumes to the congregation about a church’s stance toward alcoholics and
addicts and their families. What’s a few cigarette butts in the parking lot
when you’re taking a stand as the community of Jesus on one of the great
plagues of our time?

From
Brenda: Could you talk a little about the work you do to maintain
sobriety? In the media we hear about people going to rehab, but we don't hear
as much about the work they continue to do 1, 5, 10 years down the road. I'm
curious to know about the mix of practical and spiritual resources you use now.

Thanks to
celebrities, we hear a lot in the media about in rehab—and about relapse. I guess we don’t hear much about the success
stories because, well, there’s no headline there!

The reality is
that few if any addicts will stay sober without a follow up program of recovery.
I personally am part of a 12-step community, so I work these steps with a
sponsor and I apply the principles on a regular basis. I sponsor other women who
are newer to recovery than me. To stay spiritual fit, I observe a regular
morning time of prayer, meditation, and reflection.  I’ve found that sitting still is important,
too—if for no other reason than to be intentional about feeling my feelings.

But this is just
what I do. I’m a fan of any recovery program that works long term. A clean and
sober person who is living fully is a miracle, however he or she got there. I
wrote about two of the most well known approaches to getting and saying sober here.

Probably the most
important thing for my continued sobriety is attending meetings. (I usually
attend three or four hour long meetings a week—scant compared to the time I
used to spend drinking!) I know that this behavior mystifies some folks, so I’ll
share a few reasons most recovering alcoholics and addicts continue to attend support
groups long after we’re “recovered”:

1. Recovery is the
solution to alcoholism, but there is
no cure. For example, once you become
an active alcoholic, you’ll never become a “normal” drinker. People who can eventually resume drinking in a
controlled way are by definition not alcoholic—or they’ve been miraculously
healed. I’m told it happens, but I’ve never seen it.

The rest of us
have to stay on our guard for that sneaky little voice that tells us, “Oh
c’mon! Jeez. Look how you’ve changed! You could handle a drink or two.” This
lie has killed untold thousands, if not millions. And the fact is, the longer
we’re sober, the more likely we are
to forget the truth. Meetings—and hearing the stories of newcomers—help us remember.

2. Meetings are
part of our spiritual practice. They also help us stay healthy in our
relationships with others and in our
thinking. For me, they don’t replace church. But in the same way that I
wouldn’t decide to quit church because I’ve been a Christian a long time, I
wouldn’t quit my program of recovery, either. Besides, my closest friends are
in my recovery community and can’t imagine how empty my life would be without
it.

3.  If everyone who got sober quit coming to
meetings, there’d be no one there to help the newcomer. Part of how we stay sober and less self-centered
is by giving away to others what we’ve so freely received. It’s a joy, not a
burden, and most of us get so much more back than we ever give.

From
Eric: In terms of helping an alcoholic to recover, how important do you think
it is to call alcoholism a disease versus calling it a sin?

I’ve written about this
important topic a couple times. I’d say that the number one reason I stayed
stuck in my secret alcoholism for twelve nightmarish years is that I was
convinced alcoholism indicated moral failure or a lack of will-power. Which
didn’t make sense to me, since I was one of the most ambitious, “strong” people
I knew.

I’d been taught in church that
calling any addiction a disease is
just a means to excuse the behavior. But now I think the opposite is more often
true. An alcoholic who understands that she has a physiological condition that
she can’t fix or control or manage on her
own is way more likely to consider recovery.

When I first went to treatment,
I too objected to the disease model. I asked a counselor, “How can you call
something a disease if it could have been avoided had you not participated in a
certain behavior?”

He calmly
explained that alcoholism, like lung cancer caused by cigarettes or
diabetes brought on by obesity, is a legitimate disease, even if it arises
from an avoidable indulgence.

“And like
other diseases,” he added, “alcoholism is progressive. It gets worse over
time, never better. Left untreated, it often results in death.”

I had to admit his answer made
sense. Things clicked into place for me even more when I learned that an
alcoholic doesn’t process the enzymes in alcohol the way a normal drinker does.
We have an abnormal, allergic-like reaction. A normal person thirsty for
alcohol has a drink or two and is satiated. But the alcoholic has a drink or
two and is exponentially more thirsty for
alcohol than before. It would be like a person who gets hungrier the more
he eats. This powerful reaction is commonly referred as “the phenomenon of
craving.”

Today, I think alcoholism is not
a matter of sin or sickness, but both. Honestly, though, I don’t care what you
call it so long as people understand that it is a complex condition that isn’t
about will power or being a good person. Arguing over labels may seem
pointless, but unfortunately how we label a problem often influences how and
when we’ll reach for help—or not.  I
wrote more about this here.

From
Bethany: What can social drinkers do to help friends who struggle with
alcoholism?

So glad you asked that. Someone
new to recovery is likely to still feel fragile around alcohol and vulnerable
to temptation. At that stage, I did. But they probably also don’t want their
recovery to be an elephant in the room. The safest thing to do is ask, “Is it
okay with you if I have a glass of wine?”

Contrary to popular belief, most
alcoholics don’t stay sober by continually resisting the temptation to drink. Very
few of us would make it that way long term. Instead, at some point God relieves
us of the obsession to drink. We become “neutral” concerning alcohol. It’s like
it no longer exists for us. When Dave and I go to a restaurant, he often has a
glass of wine or a martini and I don’t mind at all. I wrote about this issue here.

From Teresa: In the church, there is
often so much pressure to appear godly, and hide all our secrets, addictions,
and sins because we are ashamed of them. What ways do you think the Christian
community can encourage openness and honesty so people feel comfortable sharing
these things with each other? And what was the catalyst for you personally that
got you to open up and talk about your personal struggles with alcoholism? 

Shame played a huge role in my
alcoholism. I bought the lie that told me that if I let my secret be exposed,
my pride would be so crushed and the humiliation so great that I’d want to die.
Really. But the opposite was true. The relief I felt once I exposed the truth was
a stunning and wonderful surprise that I want to tell the world about.

The catalyst for me was a
combination of things: I was exhausted from all the work it took to live a lie;
I sensed that my ability to stay in control of my secret was lessening and I
was getting sloppy; my life had become unmanageable. Thankfully, I had a moment
of complete surrender that led to a huge spiritual breakthrough. I didn’t see it
coming, but I broke through to a willingness to reach for help, which in turn required
me to come clean.

It’s natural to want to hide the
parts of ourselves that feel broken or ugly or sinful. We’d all rather show the
world our shiny parts—and our egos make sure of this. Which is why one of the
most important things we can do to help each other is to be honest ourselves.
If I’m vulnerable with you, you sense that I am a safe person to share with in
turn.

I honestly never dreamed I’d be
so vocal about my recovery. But the longer I was in recovery the more I
realized how helpful it was--not just to others, but to me--to be public about it. To the same extent that I found it
hellish to live in secrecy and lies during my active addiction, I now find it
liberating to live my recovery in plain sight.

Plus, just imagine how hard it
would be for me now to try to convince anyone that I’m not really an
alcoholic?! That feels like wonderful insurance to me, even as I live out my
sobriety openly, one step and one day at a time.

I think one reason we struggle
to get honest in church settings is that we all feel like we have to somehow
protect God’s reputation. To admit to an addiction can feel like a betrayal of
Christ’s work on the cross. (Why don’t I
have victory in Jesus?) I wonder if we don’t value being “right” more than being
“real.” We choose to bond over shared beliefs rather than over shared
brokenness.

I know many small groups in
churches work hard to create communities of intimacy, connection, and safety. What
a gift that kind of true fellowship can be! My experience with that, though,
was that I mostly focused on proving to others that I was a good Christian. I
needed to become vulnerable, but unfortunately, I was determined to perform.

In our experience with addiction
(not alcohol addiction) we've found a group of people who believe addiction can
be overcome completely and victoriously without the need for a lifetime of
recovery, and another group who see it is a lifetime process. Is there a way to
reconcile those beliefs and live somewhere in the middle--as a person who no
longer is enslaved to the addiction but is still a recovering addict?

Fabulous question! As a Christian, I
think it’s possible for people to be delivered from an addiction “at the foot
of the cross.” But that kind of deliverance doesn’t happen for most of us. Christians
commonly believe it’s not healthy to continue to think of yourself as alcoholic
or an addict for the rest of your life. To them, it seems like a victim
mentality or like you’re not declaring your freedom and owning your healing.

This perception is furthered by
confusion around why people in 12 Step groups continue to introduce ourselves
as alcoholics in meetings long after we get sober. I so get it. I understand
some people aren’t comfortable with such a declaration. But here are a few
reasons why I (and many others) do this:

For me, saying I’m an alcoholic over
and over again has helped remove the stigma attached to my addiction. Introducing myself as an alcoholic
in meetings reminds me that I am still an alcoholic—a truth my inner addict
desperately wants to forget.Recovery begins with, and hinges on,
our willingness to admit the problem. Imagine how much easier it is for a
newbie to finally say those hard words--“I’m Wendy and I’m an alcoholic”--when everyone else in the room is admitting
the same thing.Introducing ourselves in meetings
this way doesn’t mean that we only
see ourselves as addicts or alcoholics, or that it has become our main
identity. That’s just silly. To the contrary, this practice is more like a declaration
of freedom. We are no longer in denial, no longer ashamed, no longer afraid to
say that we are mentally and physically different when it comes to alcohol.

From Adam: As you were (are) getting
sober, do you find your addiction moving elsewhere? Is it an addiction to
alcohol specifically for you, or is it an addictive personality that now shows
up in other ways? 

I think some of us are more
prone than others to participate in “numbing behaviors” of some kind. Addiction
is the extreme on the spectrum. But I think biology has more to do with serious
addiction than personality.

Cross-addictions are common. A
lot of alcoholics realize they have secondary love or sex or food addictions
that have been hiding. Others develop new compulsions as a way to fill the
empty space left behind when they got sober. This is one reason an ongoing
recovery program is so helpful—we can continue to grow and change as more is
revealed. We learn to embrace our feelings—even emptiness—and allow ourselves
to experience them as a capacity for grace and Spirit instead of stuffing them
with a substitute. And this is at the heart of what life in recovery is all
about.

***

Be sure to check out Heather's blog and her amazing book, Sober Mercies. 

You can check out every installment of our interview series—which includes “Ask an atheist,” “Ask a nun,” “Ask a pacifist,” “Ask a Calvinist,” “Ask a Muslim,” “Ask a gay Christian,” “Ask a Pentecostal” “Ask an environmentalist,” “Ask a funeral director,” "Ask a Liberation Theologian,"  "Ask Shane Claiborne," "Ask Jennifer Knapp," and  many mor— here.

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Is God's presence limited to Scripture?

"You study the Scriptures diligently because you think that in them you have eternal life. These are the very Scriptures that testify about me, yet you refuse to come to me to have life." – John 5:39

It has become something of a sport for folks in the evangelical, neo-Reformed tradition to take to the internet to draw out the “boundaries of evangelicalism,” boundaries which inevitably fall around their own particular theological distinctions and which seem to grow narrower and narrower with every blog post on the topic. 

Pastor and blogger Tim Challies recently added a few more stones to the fortress wall in a blog post entitled “The Boundaries of Evangelicalism.” In it, Challies writes about his concerns regarding “the power and prevalence of mysticism” in the contemporary church and posits that true evangelicalism rejects all forms of this “mysticism” and instead embraces the doctrine of the Reformed tradition and its emphasis on knowing God through Scripture alone.

He concludes:

“God has given us his Word to guide us in all matters of faith and practice. When we commit ourselves to mysticism, we commit ourselves to looking for revelation from God and experiences of God that come from outside that Word. We reject his gift--his good, infallible, inerrant, sufficient gift--and demand more. Because God promises us no more, we quickly create our own experiences and interpret them as if they are God’s revelation. Yet the Bible warns us that we can do no better than God’s Word and have no right to demand anything else. The question for Evangelicals today is just this: Will God’s Word be enough? Because whatever does not lead us toward God’s Word will always, inevitably and ultimately lead us away.”

The post is so full of historical inaccuracies, theological problems, and contradictions that it’s hard to know where to start, but I want to make clear from the get-go that my response to this post should not be seen as an attack on Tim Challies himself, (who I respect and like), but rather a response to the general belief that God’s presence is limited to the pages of Scripture and that all forms of contemplative or experiential spirituality should therefore be dismissed out of hand or regarded with suspicion. As evangelicalism in the U.S. has been working its way through something of an identity crisis over the past few years, and as many young evangelicals like myself have reconnected with the spiritual disciplines, this seems to be a recurring point of contention, and therefore one that should be addressed. 

Challies defines mysticism as “those forms of Christian spirituality which attempt direct or unmediated access to God” and mentions, generally, the popularity of books on spiritual disciplines and spiritual formation and, specifically, books by Christian authors like Sarah Young and John Eldredge. In the past, Challies has been highly critical of Ann Voskamp’s spirituality in One Thousand Gifts, chastising her for her experiencing the presence of God in nature and in a Catholic cathedral, and for being influenced by the likes of Henri Nouwen, Brennan Manning, Teresa of Avila, Brother Lawrence, Annie Dillard, and Dallas Willard.  One of the commenters after Challlies’ post also mentioned Richard Foster, Thomas Merton, centering prayer, contemplative prayer, lectio divina, and prayer labyrinths, which the commenter describes as efforts to “access God in a pagan/occult way.” 

According to Challies, mystics are those who experience  “a direct inner realization of the Divine,” and an “unmediated link to an absolute.” He goes on to argue that mysticism is any connection with God outside the context of Scripture. 

Challies writes, “Mysticism was once regarded as an alternative to Evangelical Christianity. You were Evangelical or you were a mystic, you heeded the doctrine of the Reformation and understood it to faithfully describe the doctrine laid out in Scripture or you heeded the doctrine of mysticism. Today, though, mysticism has wormed its way inside Evangelicalism so that the two have become integrated and almost inseparable.”  

I have no idea where Challies got the idea that “mysticism was once regarded as an alternative to evangelical Christianity.”

While it is true that the Reformers occasionally used the word “evangelical” in their writings, most historians locate the roots of evangelicalism solidly within Wesley’s Methodism in England and in the Great Awakenings of the 18th and 19th centuries. Evangelicalism was, at its heart, a movement, influenced not only by a strong emphasis on the authority of Scripture but also by a lively, impassioned, and deeply personal spirituality—an eclectic, ecumenical mix of elements from Pietism, Presbyterianism, Puritanism, and Pentecostalism. Evangelicalism’s mothers and fathers were mystically-inclined Christians like John Wesley, Jonathan and Sarah Edwards, William J. Seymour, and A.W. Tozer—people whose “hearts were strangely warmed” by profound experiences with God, by  “a direct inner realization of the Divine.” 

And indeed, mysticism—which I would define as practices intended to help connect a person to God through experience, intuition, contemplation, the devotional reading of Scripture, ritual, and prayer—has been a part of the Church from the very beginning.  

From the events of Pentecost, to the practices of communion and baptism throughout Christian history, to the writings and teachings of the desert fathers and mothers, to the Reformation, to the divine offices being prayed continually throughout the world today, to the Azusa Street revival, to the spread of Christianity in the global South and East, the story of Christianity is the story of regular people connecting in powerful ways to the presence of God. 

Indeed, the history of the faith, and the teachings of Scripture itself, show that Tim Challies is dead wrong on one very important point: 

He says at the end of his post that when it comes to our connection with the holy, “God promises us no more” than Scripture as a means to knowing and experiencing his presence. 

This is absolutely not true. Scripture itself teaches us that God has promised us the Holy Spirit (Luke 24:49, Acts 2:33, Ephesians 1:13).

As Peter exclaimed at Pentecost, “you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. The promise is for your and your children and for all who are far off—for all whom the Lord our God will call.” 

The Holy Spirit  has sustained the Church through good times and bad, through persecution and imperial power, through the centuries before the Christian Bible was fully assembled, through the assembling of that Bible, through the centuries when most Christians had very little access to the Bible, through the centuries when many American Christians have multiple versions of the Bible on their bookshelves and multiple Christian denominations in their hometowns. 

And as Jesus told Nicodemus, “the wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.”

In other words, the Holy Spirit doesn’t have boundaries. 

Furthermore, to limit the presence of Jesus to the words of Scripture, as if Christ’s presence is restricted to paper and ink, is to deny the resurrection of all its power. Christ is not merely an historical figure that we read about, a person from the past to whom we make intellectual assent. Christ is alive! Christ is present! Christ is directly accessible to all who believe! 

Jesus himself said that we can expect to encounter his presence not simply in the pages of Scripture, but also among the least of these, where two or three are gathered, in persecution, and in communion. Paul experienced Jesus on the road to Damascus. Peter experienced Jesus in the home of Cornelius (much to his surprise). Stephen saw Jesus just before his death. I have encountered the presence of Jesus in fellowship with other Christians, among the poor and disenfranchised, as I eat the bread and drink the wine. And if this makes me a mystic, then count me in! 

The whole point of Scripture is to testify to the Living Word, which is Jesus Christ. As Jesus told the Scribes and Pharisees, "You study the Scriptures diligently because you think that in them you have eternal life. These are the very Scriptures that testify about me, yet you refuse to come to me to have life." 

When we become more committed to the testimony than to the Person to whom it testifies, we are likely to miss the presence of Jesus even when it’s right in front of us. Probably because it took some form we weren’t expecting. Probably because it showed up outside of our boundaries. 

But Challies says “we can do no better” than the Bible. 

I’m not sure this is true. For what do we long for when we read the Beatitudes, when we meditate on the words of Christ through lectio divina, when we join with Christians past and present to pray the hours, when we climb Teresa of Avila’s “Interior Castle,” when we raise our hands in worship, when we eat the bread and drink the wine, when we walk the labyrinths, when like David we see that the night sky declares the glory of God, when we study the Bible in Hebrew and Greek, when we connect with a glorious line from Wendell Berry or Frederick Buechner, or Annie Dillard? 

We long for consummation, for total union with our beloved Christ. For He is the source of eternal life, the fulfillment of Scripture, and the object of our desire. 

Scripture points to Jesus, not the other way around. 

And all of these practices—from prayer to communion to fellowship to reading Scripture— give us glimpses of the day when that union will be realized, when we will all gather at the marriage supper of the Lamb.  But right now, even with Scripture, we see through a glass darkly. Right now, even with Scripture, we know only in part.

Only later will we see Jesus face to face and be known even as we are known. 

Now, here’s where I suspect Challies and I may agree: Because we believe Scripture to be authoritative in matters of faith and practice and a trustworthy testimony regarding Jesus Christ, we would be right to be highly suspicious of anyone whose claims about their experiences with God run contrary to the teachings of Scripture. Our testimonies should harmonize. Mysticism that morphs into mere superstition, or that contradicts what we know about Jesus from the written Word, is not a faithful testimony and should be warned against in the sternest terms. There is obviously space here to "test the spirits." 

But while we should be appropriately wary of anyone whose claims of personal revelation run contrary to Scripture, we should not discount, out of hand, all personal experiences with God that occur outside the context of Scripture...which is what Challies has essentially done with this piece. 

Furthermore, any understanding of “sola scriptura” that totally divorces reason, experience, and tradition from the interpretation process is a misunderstanding of that principle. We never approach Scripture alone. It does not exist in a vacuum. We approach Scripture with our Helper, the Holy Spirit, with the influence of the great cloud of witnesses who have read and interpreted it before us, and—like it or not—with the subtle but powerful influences of our culture, our language, our background, our experiences, and our biases. This notion of total, exclusive reliance on Scripture is a fantasy; it cannot be done. 

Challies says that “whatever does not lead us toward God’s Word will always, inevitably and ultimately lead us away.” But the point of Scripture is not to lead us back to Scripture. The point of Scripture is to lead us to Jesus Christ.  And any student of Luther will know that this was central to the Reformer’s theology as well. 

Finally, when Challies defines mysticism as “direct or unmediated access to God” and then essentially trashes it as heresy, he (probably unintentionally) communicates that Christians need some kind of additional mediator to access God— Scripture, he seems to think, or perhaps the pastor interpreting it. (This is a fine example of how many Protestants tend to simply replace the Pope with the Bible and priests with the pastors interpreting it.) 

But once again, Scripture itself disputes this claim.  “For there is one God and one mediator between God and mankind, the man Jesus Christ, who gave himself a ransom for all people,” writes Paul. “Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need,” says the writer of Hebrews.  

Challies is wrong. We do have direct access to God. We need no additional mediator. 

And if labyrinths and lectio divina and contemplative prayer and Annie Dillard help remind us of that, I see no reason why we should fear them. 

A lot of young evangelicals are reconnecting with these mystical practices, and I count myself among them. I suspect we are drawn to ritual, tradition, contemplative prayer, and silence because these are things that give us a sense of history, identity, and communion with the universal Church that has perhaps been lacking in the evangelical church of late.  Praying the hours provides a rhythm to my day that takes the focus off of myself and my schedule and puts it on God and the members of God’s Church who are praying along with me. Ancient liturgies connect me to followers of Jesus from the past. Reading St. Francis and Teresa of Avila and Dallas Willard and Madeleine L'Engle help put words to my experiences and stretch me to see God in new ways. Communion…well, I can’t explain exactly what happens in communion, and I’m beginning to wonder if maybe that’s the point. While none of these things should serve as replacements of Scripture; they can certainly function constructively alongside of it. 

Honestly, the more Scripture I memorize, the more labyrinths I walk, the more prayers I pray and the more mystics I engaged, the sadder I become by all this boundary marking and fortress building coming from the more fundamentalist camps within evangelicalism. 

For I have tasted and seen. I’ve felt this wind blow wherever it wishes, however it wishes, whenever it wishes. I’ve caught a glimpse of this God who is bigger than Calvinism, bigger than evangelicalism, bigger even than the Church. 

And I have come to see that these boundaries designed to shut others out only serve to shut the builders in.

They’re missing out on all this space, all this freedom, all this fresh air we call grace. 

***

So what do you think? Is mysticism helpful or harmful to Christians? Should we expect to encounter God outside the context of Scripture? Do we have "direct, unmediated access" to God? 

Back Porch Theology

"You will go out in joy
and be led forth in peace;
the mountains and hills
will burst into song before you,
and all the trees of the field
will clap their hands."
- Isaiah 55:12

Woodpecker works,
Breeze whispers its praise,
And all the trees of the field clap their hands.

Flycatcher sings, 
Breeze sighs in delight, 
And all the trees of the field clap their hands.

Fuzzy-tailed acrobat leaps from limb to limb,
Breeze gasps in surprise,
And all the trees of the field clap their hands.

Housecat hunts,
Breeze takes in breath, 
And all the trees of the field clap their hands.

Rabbit runs,
Breeze exhales,
And all the trees of the field clap their hands.

Sun journeys through the sky,
Breeze whistles the world to attention, 
And all the trees of the field wave and sway and clap their hands.

It’s nice to know—
How little this world needs me, 
How even when the crowds fade and the publishers quit calling,
It will go on in endless applause.