Tagged: Jesus
Christian Twistings
As a Christian, I twist certain questions into truer questions.
“How can there be a good god and so much suffering?” is twisted into, “Can I really find peace?”
“Is the ability to understand the Bible really only available to certain humans?” is twisted into, “Does the Bible say I can’t access its god directly, one-on-one?”
“What do you think verse x means?” is twisted into, “Do you know the range of historical interpretations of verse x down through history, offhand? If so, can you share it succinctly?”
“You do know the Bible was written by men, right?” is twisted into, “Do you know that I am open to some of what I’ve heard about Jesus, but I feel like a fool for saying so?”
“In Amos, the LORD says that he directly controlled the crops/harvest in order to judge his people, itself in order to call them to repentance. Does that mean if there’s a bad harvest this season, in 2023, the LORD is likewise judging whoever is affected by it?” is twisted into, “Given the empirically grounded interrelatedness of world markets, do you believe the ‘farming’ events recorded in Amos mean that current bad harvests indicate that we are all, always constantly under judgement and a call to repentance?”
Those are the big ones recently on my mind.
Comment below if you have any questions you’d enjoy having twisted into their truer version by a Christian.
You’re Next
That’s the title of a sermon I’d like to give.
“You’re Next?”
Intriguing, no?
“Next what?” you wonder.
Whoa, back up a sec, I say.
“Who am I giving the imaginary sermon to?” That’s the first question.
My answer: This is a real sermon, for a real congregation, at a real church.
Most folks in the audience, then, believe they’re “in”.
This eliminates my ominous assertion “You’re Next” from meaning (to these faithful few) something positive.
Instead, I mean, literally, concretely, and practically, that I believe I am talking to people who—like all the rest—are the next to leave Christianity.
“No I’m not!” some of you might respond.
“Now we’re talking!” I exclaim. “You’re not next after all. So why aren’t you gonna leave? Let’s talk about that and see if we can’t communicate all the reasons you’re hanging around to those who are not here today.
“For example, I’m not going to leave because I can read my Bible. And when I read the Bible, I see that, specifically, theology has mucked up what it says. Doctrine begins with Scripture. Doctrine does not prevent taking the claims of the Bible in kind.
“That said, you’re not going to hear me proclaiming ‘doctrine’. Not unless we do this together for decades and I need to speed up the point I want to make. Decades. Not this week. Not next week. Not next year. Not even next decade.
“Open your Bibles with me, then, to the Gospel according to-”
“-Excuse, me,” one of you interrupts. “But how will we keep false teachings out?”
“Good question. By using our god-given minds to determine what the Bible says. If this makes you nervous, it means that you’re not sure you know how to read. That’s fine. I’m sure I can teach you. More than that, I’m sure you’ll agree that you learned how to read.
“Any more questions before we begin?”
Eagle Eyes
“Nose?”
“Yes, A-, that’s your nose,” I responded, unsure what prompted this resumption of the body parts game.
“Nose?”
“Yes. You’re right. Good job. That’s your nose,” I answered loquaciously, aiming for victory.
She took off running towards the open door.
“Hey!-” I started, futilely. “Why do they always need to go where they’re not allowed?”
She came back with a tissue at her nose and as I met her, I saw the box of tissue all the way in the far corner of our bedroom, on the nightstand.
I shook my head.
“H-!” I called to my older daughter. “You’re not gonna believe what A- just did. She saw the tissue box all the way from across the room and that’s why she started saying, ‘Nose? Nose?’ Ha. This kid has eagle eyes-”
“Watch out, A-!”
Before I could finish a father’s proud, ocular appellation, certain death in the form of unkempt toddler toys, almost met our far-sighted easy-breather.
Guests Cannot Speak. Not Even Me.
Earlier today I wrote, “Evangelical Christianity has a problem.”
Just now, I returned from attending the second half of the youth service that my wife and step-son’s preferred church puts on. I missed the games and whatever they do for the first hour. This means I arrived when the sermon began. Then it was small group time.
Twenty minutes is all they allot for the smaller groups time.
I’ve been to this church several times, and have been to a few of its members homes. And we sent A- to the youth camp two years ago etc.
I would never join the church, however, because it’s a “one church, many campuses” place that makes you watch a screen for the pre-recorded sermon.
Think of it. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Visual Illusion.
One of these things isn’t like the others.
Anyhow.
During small group time, the two adults (one is a paid, full-time youth pastor who I’ve spoken with at length and texted and talked to occasionally) were teaching the 7th and 8th graders (one of whom was dressed in full Spiderman costume, gloves and all) about not drawing lines when it comes to lust/pornography. As in, do not say, “I’ll go this far—and no farther.” Instead, the lesson was, “whatever is pure…think on these things”.
No problem with the lesson.
But the boys were not getting it.
The way the leaders, sermon guy and two in my group, spoke, barely anyone could’ve discerned what the heck they were saying. They were so general in their vocabulary that it was hard even for me to know what was going on. I wondered, “Were they instructed to never get specific? If so, that’s odd. But it fits these type of churches. Never actually offensive.”
Anyhow, the point is, the boys were saying things that didn’t fit at all and the adults were never correcting the boys or even seeming to care that the lesson was failing.
Finally, after 17 min, I said, “I’m not sure you guys get the line thing. Will one of you explain it? Can someone give me a specific example?”
Peter Parker spoke up, “It’s like you shouldn’t drink alcohol or do drugs.”
Before anyone could respond, the unpaid teacher actually answered me.
I was shocked. Not only did I not doubt that he knew the answer, I clearly didn’t ask him. And the protectionism he demonstrated was wholly inappropriate. I obviously was trying to help teach the boys what they, the teachers, wanted to teach the boys.
I repeated the question, albeit more specific, “What’s like a rule you have in your life right now?”
A boy spoke up, “Don’t watch bad tv.”
“Good,” I said. “Now what’s the very easiest way to make sure that you never, I mean never ever, see bad tv?”
“Read a book,” he answered.
“Perfect. That’s perfect. The line would be ‘watch only good tv’ but the better thing, if you never wanted to watch bad tv, would be to never watch tv period.”
Then the boys took over with other examples and the paid guy fed off the improved mood and everything came to a close.
Skip to the end…
The paid guy approached me and said, “Hey, so I just want to honor our leadership here and let you know that you need to wear a guest badge next time. You know, just so folks know you’re a parent.”
“Will do.”
“And,” he continued, “This comes from the heart, but we want parents to come and see what we’re teaching the kids, but you can’t talk. I mean, I loved what you said tonight and how it helped the conversation, but, again, I need to honor our leadership too and so you just need to know that you can’t talk next time.”
Boy Scouts really ruined me, I think.
In Boy Scouts, the adults taught skills. Like lighting a fire. We learned fire needed three things, blah blah blah.
All the adults either helped teach or were too embarrassed to help as they didn’t know what they were doing and not helping light a fire would result in no fire, so they just sat back and watched rather than shame themselves.
Can you imagine it? Many adults helping towards one goal?
Tonight, if the youth leaders wanted to teach the boys to light a fire, the analogy would work out as follows.
“Boys, here’s a match box. Take it. That’s right, there’s enough that every one gets one. Everyone have theirs? Good. Now you take a match and then strike it on the side and the match grows a flame. Your turn. Try it.”
And then one boy says, “This box sounds cool when you shake it.”
And another rejoins, “Yeah. Like moccasins.”
The teacher corrects, “You mean maracas.”
“That’s what I said. Maracas.”
All the while, the boys are all shaking a box of matches. But no fire is lit. No matches leave the boxes. No boys strikes up a match into a flame.
And the teachers just keep gently “handling” the ignorance.
Then I say, “Boys. Will one of you take out a match from your box?”
“I’ll do it!”
“Thank you. Now will you strike it on the side of the box and make a flame?”
(Shhhh sparkle flame)!!
The boys say, “Oooo. Ahhh. Can I try?”
Then, after the dismissal, the leader says to me, “Silence!!”
Tracking, dear reader?
Maybe I’m too old. Maybe I’m too eccentric. Maybe I have too much baggage.
I just have never been to so many organizations which have such lousy teachers as the Evangelical churches I have attended of late.
It’s not like I taught something different. I merely helped focus the lesson they wanted the boys to learn. In my opinion, I should get a medal for what I did tonight.
Evangelical Christianity has a problem.
Damely, A Review of Gentle and Lowly: The Heart of Christ for Sinners and Sufferers, by Dane Ortlund
Evangelical Christianity has a problem.
We say the canon is closed, but then we keep writing and writing and writing. And encouraging to write and write and write. And read and read and read—everything about the Bible, but never the Bible itself.
Mr. Ortlund’s, or Pastor Ortlund’s, book was given to me last birthday by a good friend. We went to Seminary together. I told him I’d let him know how the book was after I read it. He clearly loved it, so this was an awkward setup for someone as critical as me. He knew that going in. I agreed because I thought I could use some light Christian reading and figured it couldn’t be terrible. And it wasn’t. It wasn’t even close to terrible.
But it’s for women. Dames.
Check out these sentiments:
We don’t use a word like benevolence much today; it means a disposition to be kind and good, a crouched coil of compassion ready to spring.
Or, …my swirling internal world of fretful panicky-ness arising out of gospel deficit…
The felt love of Christ really is what brings rest, wholeness, flourishing, shalom—that existential calm that for brief, gospel-sane moments settles over you and lets you step in out of the storm of of-works-ness.
(My bold.)
No man feels like that was written to him. We all just acknowledge that the Pastor has to include some girly stuff in order to satisfy the publisher, who knows that men typically don’t read anyway. But the book was filled with these and more. Too many. Nobody speaks like that, nor should they. It’s insulting. “Crouched coil of compassion ready to spring”. Sheesh. No need for gender-reassignment surgery here. Just learned what it feels like to be a woman.
Here’s even more truth. The introduction lists a few “who this is written for” descriptions, and the one (only one) that made me decide to go through with reading it was, “…suspect we have disappointed him [the Trinity].” That’s not feminine, neither is it far off from ideas floating around “upstairs” as my step-son says. So I read on.
But I confess that I never really thought the book was for me. And I still don’t. The Bible is for me. This type of book is not.
The problem with these books is their existence itself. You don’t need someone to come up with analogies to the Bible’s analogies in order to understand how to walk according to the Way. You really don’t.
I repeat: the canon is closed.
I have this argument with my wife often too.
The canon is closed. The minute someone creates a recording of what they said, some preacher/teacher, they’re implicitly suggesting that they are as inspired as the authors of the real Bible.
By contrast, I write these posts for me. I don’t believe they can help you in any way that meaningfully would be help. That’s partly because I don’t believe you need my help. You definitely have never asked for my help.
If anything, my theologically-oriented posts may help you understand what makes me tick, but I would never suggest they can help clarify the Bible.
Back to Pastor Ortlund.
If you’re looking for a good spiritual book, most folks would point you to the big ones. Gospel of John, Genesis, early Psalms, Ephesians. Acts is a winner. And that disappoints you. Because that’s not what you’re looking for, I suspect. I suspect that, when looking for a Christian/Devotional book, you’re looking to find a shortcut to the Bible. Bluntly, my gut tells me that you’re looking for a lazy-man’s Bible.
To that search I say: Good luck in your quest. I never have found one. So I stopped wasting time searching and started reading the Bible.
The Bible Is Not Always Clear
The sermon this morning was on James 1:22-25. Here it is.
“But become doers of the word, and not merely hearers who delude themselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks at his natural face in a mirror; for once he looked at himself and has gone away, he immediately forgot what kind of person he was. But one who looks intently at the perfect law, the law of freedom, and abides by it, not having become a forgetful hearer but a doer of the work, this man will be blessed in what he does.”
James 1:22-25 LSB
The preacher this morning spent an inordinate amount of time on the “common sense” mirror analogy. To summarize, he said, “Unless you’re a ‘doer’ James is saying it’s like you see bedhead in the mirror in the morning and then don’t fix it. Hearing-only is only seeing the mirror, James is saying. But we want to be ‘doers’, so we have to do something about what we see.”
This interpretation, of what you’ll see is an uncommon teaching, is incredibly flawed. See if you can follow me as I explain why.
Firstly, the mirror is never truth. The mirror is never reality.
Secondly, the Bible is not a mirror. As I was critiquing the sermon on the short drive home, my wife somehow defended the sermon with, “but the Bible is a mirror!” This exclamation was especially saddening as she knows better. To be clear, a quick, but exhaustive, search of the Bible shows that no Bible writer ever expressed as much. Of course they didn’t. It isn’t true. The Bible writers never wrote that the Bible is a mirror because the Bible is not a mirror. (This is because the Bible is true and mirrors are not.)
Thirdly, James plainly says that the hearer-only forgets without the mirror. When apart from the mirror, the hearer-only forgets.
Let’s take an example of forgetting. As a professional pilot, I wear a uniform when I fly. The uniform is what a professional pilot wears. You see me in a uniform, just the same as I see myself in a mirror in a uniform. You see pilots in uniforms, but—and you know this—uniforms aren’t the thing that makes him a pilot.
It’s a good look, the uniform. So I like to see myself in the mirror. “Yeah, that’s me. I’m a pilot. Cool.”
Now imagine that I walk away from the mirror and am unable to get the plane into the sky. Am I still a pilot? Even though I’m in uniform? (We’re still on point three; James’ emphasis is on forgetting.)
I saw the other pilots in their uniforms. I put on one that fit me. But, imagine that for some reason I couldn’t perform the task of flight. I have forgotten who I was/am. As it turns out, how I look has nothing to do with whether I am a pilot.
(Here insert any of your own reflective, superficial, outward traits.)
Fourthly, and finally, mirrors, in-and-of-themselves, are not compelling. Don’t believe me? Hmm. Okay. Then I guess you’re not slightly overweight, not slightly unkempt, good from this angle, and you don’t appear to weigh as much as the scale says. I guess you really do look best on video chat when it’s just your face, your clothes really don’t matter, and you’re only working from home—so no need to look nice.
If mirrors could compel us to change, we’d all look exact like we want to, no matter the cost of achieving it.
James was writing to liars (that includes you and me too). Specifically, he was writing to believers who were undergoing various trials. James believes that he (James) knows a thing or two about how to gain the righteousness of God. And he writes that we don’t gain the righteousness of God by living a lie. Or as James says “deluding ourselves”.
If you think hearing a sermon every week, or your having heard a powerful sermon once in your life, is going to gain you the righteousness of God, then think again.
This short passage is not clear. It is not common sense. It is murky, it is mysterious, and it is deep enough that a lifetime can be spent contemplating it. This is because James is promoting the need for religion. He is promoting the need for repetition. He is promoting the need for repentance.
Why? Why repent? Why repetitively perform good works? Why get religion?
Answer: “To achieve the righteousness of God.”
(Here notice that we haven’t touched on what that is. Maybe some other day.)
“One Pastor Candidate for Every Five Pastor Openings”
Have you heard this one? I just heard it the other day.
I’ve been generally aware of the “pastor shortage” or, put differently, the “need for pastors,” but the other day after a men’s Bible study, a church member shared this doozy with me.
You see, the local church my family will probably join is between pastors at the moment and it’s been seven months. They have stalled in the search, basically taking the past seven months to write a church profile with only two salient facts in my view: low attendance (50-60 a Sunday) and minimal budget (somewhere around $150k a year).
But now, with only depressing effect, there’s this fact in the mix. Only one pastor is available for every five congregations looking for a pastor, or in need of a pastor.
I say, let’s honor the rumor and explore what it may mean. Like from a God’s eye view. For example, are we saying that God isn’t providing shepherds for His flocks? Seems unlikely. What are some other options?
One other option, possibly the only other option, is that the pastor-less churches aren’t churches.
Boom.
Consider that.
What would that mean? What would we be saying if we concluded that four of five pastor-less churches aren’t “churches”?
I’ve been thinking about this question all week. And the answer, as I see it, is not as surprising as you might guess.
What does it mean that four of five pastor-less churches aren’t actually “churches”?
It means people aren’t religious anymore.
And that fact is not surprising at all. It’s quite mundane really. It’s not even embarrassing. It’s “just the way it is”.
Specifically though, or more acutely, it means that these pastor-less groups, are viewed by men like me (or men I went to seminary with) as uninterested in religion. Instead they’re interested in having their way all the time, and won’t be moved from their opinions.
In the particular church I have been attending, the head deacon was curious about my opinion on whether the flag could be placed back behind the pulpit in the sanctuary. It seems the previous pastor took it down as an early order of business during his tenure.
The point here is not, “What did you tell him, Pete? We are having the same debate.”
The point is, “What man on earth, let alone man of the cloth, man called by Almighty God to preach the Word, wants to debate sanctuary decorations?” That’s not a Christian church problem, that is a personality problem. Too many cooks in the kitchen.
Step 1 of problem solving, Air Force Officer Training School style: Recognize The Problem. The problem here is not a pastor shortage, the problem here is a truth shortage.
The God of the Bible, the Creator and Sustainer of the Universe is not afraid to use unpleasant truths to accomplish His will.
The truth is these groups of people long ago stopped being Christian churches. Everyone with children left—that’s the first sign. But more than that, churches grow. They also convert people. If so-called “churches” aren’t growing and aren’t gaining new converts for years, they’re not churches. This isn’t the end of the world. It’s the truth.
In conclusion, don’t put out a “Pastor Wanted” sign if you’re not a church.
And if you’re not a church, then the only public action for your group is prayer. If the “church” won’t pray together, then you’ve learned all you need to know. 1. It’s definitely not a church and 2. your two options then are evangelize or leave.
I say, why not evangelize? Most people are horrible at it and you’ve at least got a ready audience.
As for me and my particular situation, I’m attempting to practice what I preach here. I’m sticking with these folks, who otherwise are not a church, because they’re a ready audience and they need Gospel as much as the next man.
They Will Know
Hardly a day has gone by while I have been a professing, confessing Christian that I don’t think about the vast increase of nearly irrefutable knowledge since Bible times—and its seeming ability to dethrone gods.
This new Jurassic Park movie is one more stumbling block for Christianity. It’s not just, “There are no dinosaurs in the Bible.” It’s not just, “Using the Bible timelines, there’s no accounting for dinosaurs.” It’s not even merely, “Christians go to unappealing lengths to rationalize away everything that dinosaurs mean to timelines of the universe.” It’s that dinosaurs are certainly not gods and yet they have seemingly trounced the god of the Bible—and effortlessly at that.
As I mentioned last post, I’m currently reading selections of the greatest math and science books, and that means Euclid. When it comes to science, you start with math. When it comes to math, you start with Euclid. (Wait for it…) It’s elementary.
I have mentioned Euclid in past posts, and I have mentioned that I think comparing what Euclid was doing circa Bible times with what Biblical authors and God Himself was doing circa Bible times is endlessly fruitful.
This time around, the guided reading book put special emphasis on the fact that Euclid was concerned with ideal figures, not with drawn figures. Put differently, his definitions, postulates, common notions, and eventually propositions were not about, “Can you draw an equilateral triangle or circle etc.?” No, they were about, “Can you build a mental construction (field of study we call geometry) which supports itself against all attack?”
Student: “Why is a point that which has no parts?”
Teacher: “Because that’s what Definition 1 says.”
Smart Student: “Okay, I get it.”
It’s not far removed from fiction.
Reader: “Why is Batman not able to fly?”
Author: “Because he’s just the man Bruce Wayne.”
Smart Reader: “Okay, I get it.”
Unlike fiction (you’re telling me no one ever notices Bruce Wayne is not present when Batman is??), however, Euclid holds up tolerably well.
And my point, regrouping, is to highlight that Euclid was intentionally teaching things he knew were only in his mind.
Dinosaurs—only dead objects.
Triangles—at their purest, only in our minds.
Religion—inadequate written and spoken term for core reasons for actions and ideas among living people.
****
Next, a lady at work yesterday rolled up her sleeve to reveal a new-ish tat of a scene of the “North Woods” on her forearm, from what I could tell without staring.
At the gentlemen’s clubs, I saw many women with bodies all tatted up. I learned that some men found it ugly, and others liked it. I found it kinda sexy when the tattoos were thought through. But no matter my opinions today, I can remember initially being repulsed by what I thought the ink did to an otherwise beautiful figure.
Yesterday, I felt that revulsion again. This was a pretty darn normal looking lady—definitely not a lady of the night choosing fast living at every turn. I then felt, “She’s searching for meaning. That’s the only explanation. She’s feeling like a cog in a machine and needs to individualize and ground herself. That’s why she took the counter-culture path.”
I know, I know. Seems like a lot of thought for something trivial. But my religion compels me to see it’s not trivial. Everything matters. And most of all, losing matters. It’s clear that religion has been losing. At every turn this is true. Why is religion losing?
This brings me to my title.
I’ve been studying Ezekiel for some time now. And many times the LORD gives, “And they will know that I am the LORD,” as the reason for his actions. Most often, his actions were lethal judgement of the members of a prideful tribe.
I’m not gonna ask the corresponding question about dinosaurs. But I do want to ask it about the math and science geniuses. What power did ideal figures have in staving off death? What power does a jurassic period in history have in clinging to life?
How about the tattoo? Did my co-worker’s tattoo satisfy?
****
Clear, consistent thought is a must. It doesn’t obtain eternal life, mind you, but it sure is essential while on Earth.
Dinosaurs are fascinating to contemplate—especially when they are destroying national monuments.
It feels wonderful to make long-lasting decisions (permanent tattoos). I can speak as an expert on this one. Being able to act decisively with an aircraft which does not forgive poor judgment is half the reason to become a pilot. My thoughts and actions matter. I’m important.
But even I can report that making many vital decisions still doesn’t satisfy.
Religion satisfies.
At the end of the day, I see American history recording our current age as “one in which we discovered the reason religion didn’t die.”
“And they will know that I am the LORD.”
U-valde, U-krain(silent e), U-s Fools
No one is interested in living with perfect consistency or perfect coherency. Not even me. That feels robotic or mechanized, or simply inhuman.
My titular pairing of Uvalde and Ukraine is not about advocating consistency or coherency or that those should be aimed for in the gun control talk. I do not find it troubling that someone could want to arm Ukraine and also disarm school shooters.
Instead, my argument is: “Don’t be led astray from the obvious.”
Is that an argument? Maybe not.
So my advice, then, is “Don’t be led astray from the obvious.”
Guns are for killing people. Maybe not every gun is equally designed for killing people, maybe some guns are purposely designed for other uses, but in the sense that, “These boots are made for walking”, “T-Rex doesn’t want to be fed”, “Jesus saves”, and “The Navy needs Maverick”, guns are for killing people.
If you can’t imagine ever wanting to kill people, then don’t buy a gun.
If you can imagine wanting to kill people, then buy a gun.
Guns are for killing people.
Guns are not made to encourage honest dialogue. Guns are not made for laws. Guns are not made to save lives. Don’t be led astray, folks.
Furthermore, it is my belief that the content in this post can be agreed upon by all humanity. What do you think? Do you agree?
PS – Lastly, if you want my actual solution to the constitutional debate, here’s the amendment I crafted carefully after Parkland. Amendment XXVIII: In time of peace, Arms shall no longer be secured by the people. (Second Amendment stays.) You can find my other post’s on the topic back around March 30, 2018.
WW3 Diary Entry 7
“So what, Pete. What would you have me do?”
Good question. Lots of things. I’ll begin with the first two.
During war, the first order of business is getting right with your maker, getting right with your creator.
Now I’m not trying to preach here, but we all know who that is. It ain’t Mohammed, it ain’t his god, and it ain’t more than one god. That leaves Yahweh, the god of the Bible. You can get right with him by, first and foremost, changing your habits. Pray in the name of Jesus. Study the Bible. Go to church. This should sound easy. It ain’t. But without it, there is literally no point to life. So why fight?
(This brings me to a big assumption. I’m assuming that you asked me what to do because you want to live, because you want to win the war. Good. Me too.)
After getting right with your maker, step two is increase your strength—both mentally and physically. We’re not gonna win if you’re weak in either category.
Physical strength is easy to increase. I recommend walking and pushups if you’re coming at this cold. Heck, I just started doing several sets of pushups on my walks with the stroller. Just three weeks ago I stopped about every fifteen minutes and did sets of 30. And now I’m at sets of 45. Three weeks.
Mental strength can be increased by teaching yourself something you’ve read. Somewhere in your house you have a book which has information in it. Pick some one section or chapter in it, and teach it to yourself. Focus is the particular mental skill in this practice. You’re not teaching what you think about the topic, you need to teach what it teaches. You’ll know if you’ve done it right. To kill two birds, I’d pick the Bible or a book which has a universal skill, like cooking or hunting or carpentry etc.
There are many other ways to increase your physical and mental strength. Comment below if you have any to offer or to request others.
We must win. We can win. We will win. But it’s going to take all of us, and it’s going to take strength.
Captain’s Log 