Reformation Historian, Historical Theologian

Category: Christian Life

Leave Resolutions Behind

Jonathan Edwards, 1703–1758

New Year’s resolutions are almost universally unpopular, and with good reason. They rely on willpower, which is as reliable as the microchip supply chain at this moment. Our wills are weak. Ironically enough, New Year’s resolutions are associated with the American Reformed theologian Jonathan Edwards, who came up with 70 strenuous, laborious resolutions. Edwards is not my favorite theologian for quite a number of reasons, but you can add this one near the top of the list.

So, for example, Edwards begins with this preface:

 

Being sensible that I am unable to do anything without God’s help, I do humbly entreat him by his grace to enable me to keep these Resolutions, so far as they are agreeable to his will, for Christ’s sake.

Remember to read over these Resolutions once a week.

Ok, right. Like I’m going to read my resolutions every week. I bet that would last until week three. But notice also that, for an ostensibly Reformed theologian, Edwards has a high estimation of what he can accomplish, albeit with God’s help. Despite the appeal to grace, Edwards ends up with as strenuous a view of the Christian life as any monk or ascetic. So his first resolution:

  1.  Resolved, that I will do whatsoever I think to be most to God’s glory, and my own good, profit and pleasure, in the whole of my duration, without any consideration of the time, whether now, or never so many myriads of ages hence. Resolved to do whatever I think to be my duty, and most for the good and advantage of mankind in general. Resolved to do this, whatever difficulties I meet with, how many and how great soever.

There’s nothing wrong with this resolution, and it’s admirable. But again, it is a resolution to be strenuous at all times. It’s a far cry from John Calvin’s description of the Christian life, which he often described as two steps forward and one step back. And some of Edwards’s resolutions are simply grim, austere, and rigorous. They portray a view of the Christian life as a burdensome chore. A few examples: 

10. Resolved, when I feel pain, to think of the pains of martyrdom, and of hell.

Well, that’s lovely. Is this to deny the reality of one’s pain? To minimize the need for grief and lament? I have a suspicion that it is, at least among Edwards’s modern admirers.

15. Resolved, never to suffer the least motions of anger to irrational beings.

I grant that this is a good one. Quite a good one, in fact. Never get angry at animals or inanimate objects.

38. Resolved, never to speak anything that is ridiculous, or matter of laughter on the Lord’s Day. 

No humor, no lightheartedness on the Lord’s Day. Purely a human tradition and a false form of works-righteousness in which God is not honored in the least, but in which the Lord’s Day is made miserable. 

In any case, there are 70 of these resolutions. Many of them are excellent, most are fine, some, like the last one I cited, are dubious. But my point is, we usually cannot even keep one resolution, whether it be about diet, gym attendance, social media addiction, you name it. Instead, someone recommended to me that I think about what I should leave behind in 2021, things I do not want to bring with me into 2022. So here are some ideas that a person recommended to me today.

  1. Leave behind excuses for not doing what you know you need to do.
  2. Leave behind your failure to understand your own worth as a person created in the image of God and uniquely gifted.
  3. Leave behind all guilt for taking care of yourself, for nurturing your soul, exercising your body, getting enough sleep. 
  4. Leave behind working to excess, and taking on too much, and over-committing.
  5. Leave behind self-doubt. Sure, you’re not perfect, but neither do you have to be. 
  6. Leave behind postponing things to the last minute, which generates stress.
  7. Leave behind the tendency to remain silent when you are unhappy or disagree.
  8. Leave behind the all-or-nothing approach to your projects. Leave behind perfectionism, in other words.
  9. Leave behind your habit of negative thinking. Pessimism. For me, this means that I say to myself, “I know that I will get beyond my grief and pain, and I will thrive again,” instead of what I actually said today: “I’ll try.” Do, or do not. There is no try
  10. Leave behind your excessive concern about what people think of you. That is, regarding external, trivial things. Your looks, your height, your weight, your job. 
  11. Leave behind what some call the “Sunday Scaries.” I did not make that up; I would try to think of something better. But in any case, this is when you spend your whole weekend worrying about the next week’s work.
  12. Leave behind living in the past. The future is ahead of you; receive it with gratitude.
  13. Leave behind your imposter syndrome. This one is hard.
  14. Leave behind your inability to say “no.” And also, your inability to be told “no.”
  15. Leave behind the pressure to look a certain way. I imagine this could take various forms, from your clothes, to your hair, your makeup, your weight, or to keep up some kind of façade.
  16. Leave behind your guilt about the list of things you have not managed to accomplish. You are not a machine, and the sum total of your life is not the number of completed projects.
  17. Leave behind pointless debates. Ouch. This applies particularly to social media. Yeah, this one also hits the mark. I love how some people never engage the trolls or the extremists, or when they do, it is in such a calm manner.

So, there are some things that you might be better off leaving behind in 2021. Next I hope to reflect on what to bring into 2022. 

Calvin: Refugee and Pilgrim

Calvin’s Self-Identity as Pilgrim

John Calvin, born Jean Cauvin, was a Frenchman who spent most of his life outside of France. He was forced to flee his native country because of his involvement with the rebellion against the Roman Catholic church, the Reformation. Scholars have commented on how Calvin’s experience as an exile, as a refugee, shaped him as a theologian and pastor. And as an exile and refugee, Calvin embraced the age-old Christian image of the Christian life as a pilgrimage.

Bruce Gordon, in his excellent biography of Calvin, writes about how this experience of exile was formative for Calvin.

From his earliest Christian writings the young Frenchman described the Christian life with metaphors of journeying and pilgrimage. The imagery was as old as the ancient books of the Hebrew Bible, but Calvin’s brilliance lay in his ability to infuse old traditions with new life. Conversion, he believed, was the beginning point of a journey, not its conclusion. Whether speaking in terms of mental anguish or of sudden conversion he sought to explain how God had acted to change his life and put him on a new course, to send him out in a different direction. 

BRUCE GORDON, CALVIN, 34

This experience of exile from France, his homeland, and from the Roman Catholic form of the faith, the faith of his childhood—both of which must have been traumatic—comes out in his first theological writing, Psychopannychia. The title, loosely translated, means “soul sleep,” and refers to the doctrine that the soul dies with the body and is resurrected at death. It was taught by the Avignon Pope John XXII and later condemned as a heresy. In Calvin’s day, the doctrine was revived by some Anabaptists, but also, more importantly, by Michael Servetus, who also denied the doctrine of the Trinity. Calvin wrote this treatise in 1534, but did not publish it right away, instead publishing his summary of the Protestant faith, The Institutes of the Christian Religion. For Calvin, the pilgrimage that is the Christian life ends with the vision of God, even before the resurrection of the body at the last day. This is not a novel or unusual doctrine; it was also the teaching of the church catholic, with only occasional exceptions, such as in the case of Pope John XXII. To deny that, Calvin believed, was to deny the clear teaching of Scripture and to deny the true Christian hope.

 

Again, Gordon writes about Calvin’s Psychopannychia:

In this meditation on the Bible Calvin set out a theme that he would continue to develop throughout his life—the Christian life as a pilgrimage through the world towards eternity.

BRUCE GORDON, CALVIN44

Calvin looked to the passage in Hebrews 11:8-12 where Abraham receives the promises of God and, exiled from his homeland of Ur, lives as a pilgrim and wayfarer, never seeing the fulfillment of the promises the Lord made to him. Calvin writes in Psychopannychia:

The Apostle speaks of Abraham and his descendants who inhabited a foreign land among strangers, not only as exiles, certainly as aliens, barely keeping a roof over their bodies in lowly shanties. This was in obedience to God’s command that he gave to Abraham, that he should leave his land and his relations. God had promised them what he had not yet shown them. Therefore, they welcomed the promises from a distance and died in the confident faith that one day God would make good on his promises. In keeping with that faith, they confessed that they had no permanent residence on the earth and that there was a homeland for them beyond the earth that they longed for, namely, in heaven.

CALVIN, PSYCHOPANNYCHIA, CO 5:218 (MY TRANSLATION)

Looking ahead to being in the presence of his Savior after this life, Calvin compares it to the Israelites entering the promised land, and the holy city of Jerusalem. In this, Calvin reflects the tradition of Christian spirituality that sees Jerusalem as the symbol of unhindered fellowship with God, as depicted in Revelation 21:10.

 

 

Thus, the souls of the saints, which have escaped the hands of the enemy, are at peace after death. They exist in sumptuousness, of which it is said, “They will go from abundance to abundance.” But when the Heavenly Jerusalem has risen up in her glory, and Christ, the true Solomon, the Prince of Peace, sits in his exalted judgment seat, the true Israelites will reign with their king.

CALVIN, PSYCHOPANNYCHIA, CO 5:214 (MY TRANSLATION)

But it’s very important to note that the traditional, Christian view of pilgrimage is not a journey of self-discovery. Nor is it a search for an unknown God. Nor is it a solitary, self-focused enterprise; there are companions on the journey. Fleming Rutledge brought up this potential objection with me when I was posting about the topic of spiritual pilgrimage in connection with Lisa Deam’s beautiful new book, 3000 Miles to Jesus. The warning is well-taken, given the individualistic focus of modern Western spirituality and its tendency to create one’s own reality and to focus on our own achievements rather than on what God has done for us. 3000 Miles to Jesus describes a very different activity, one centered on Christ and what he has already done for us. She addresses this head-on:

Focusing on our destination sounds distinctly countercultural today.  Often, when it comes to pilgrimage, we hear sayings like “It’s the journey that matters” or “The search is the meaning.” Yet this viewpoint would have been unimaginable for medieval pilgrims. Sometimes we forget that, historically, a pilgrimage almost always had an endpoint. The pilgrim arrived! The goal was attained! The journey was completed! Yes, the act of travel might itself have been transformational, but it led pilgrims to a single destination the way a well-shot arrow hits its mark.

LISA DEAM, 3000 MILES TO JESUS, 35

Rutledge pointed out that what is most important is Jesus’ journey to us. Indeed it is, and Lisa Deam writes about just that fact, that Jesus came to us to draw us to himself:

But how will the pilgrim get there? How will she survive the turbulent waters? How will any of us? “So that we might also have the means to go,” writes Augustine, “the one we were longing to go to came here from there. And what did he make? A wooden raft for us to cross the sea on.” A raft might seem a bit rickety for the raging sea, but Augustine explains: “For no one can cross the sea of this world unless carried over it on the cross of Christ.”

LISA DEAM, 3000 MILES TO JESUS110-111

In his day, Calvin repudiated the practice of pilgrimages as a means to earn merit by one’s own exertions. But the biblical theme of the Christian life or the life of the church as a pilgrimage is dear to him, just as it was to many throughout the history of Christian thought. Not a pilgrimage of self-discovery. Not a pilgrimage to accrue merits. Not a pilgrimage to make oneself worthy. It is the journey through this world, this life, to our true home, and to our Lord, who made the pilgrimage from heaven to earth to be our Savior. As such, the Christian life is not a pilgrimage of works, but a pilgrimage of grace. Not a journey of self-justification, but of the Spirit’s sanctification.

 

 

Along the way, we have practices to help us on this lifelong trek. Lisa Deam writes of the practice of prayer, for example:

“For prayer is its own pilgrimage and a mountainous way. It transforms us into travelers who walk a steep and winding path. When we pause to pray or meditate, we leave behind our surroundings in the outer world, with its unceasing clamor, and journey to what Saint Bonaventure called the interior Jerusalem—that place deep within where Jesus awaits. In its own way, the inner road to Jerusalem is as demanding as the physical quest of the Alps.”

LISA DEAM, 3000 MILES TO JESUS80

Pilgrimage in Calvin’s Institutes

 

 

As I work on a new translation of Calvin’s Institutes of the Christian Religion, the image of pilgrimage and its related themes show up frequently. So, for example, Calvin interprets the Old Testament promises to Abraham as ultimately pointing to the New Jerusalem:

We see that all these things [the promises to the patriarchs] do not properly apply to the land of our pilgrimage, or to the earthly Jerusalem, but to the true homeland of the faithful and that heavenly city in which the Lord has decreed blessing and life forever.

CALVIN, INSTITUTES, 2.11.2

The Holy Spirit sustains us in our journey, one in which we might feel like “the walking dead,” spiritual zombies, so to speak:

For the same reason [the Spirit] is called “the pledge and seal” of our inheritance (2 Cor. 1:22) because, as we are making pilgrimage in the world and are like dead people, from heaven he makes us alive in such a way that we are certain that our salvation is secure in God’s dependable protection. 

CALVIN, INSTITUTES, 3.1.3

We can get distracted from our destination, tempted to take a permanent detour to enjoy pleasures and diversions along the way. But Calvin urges us to meditate on that future life, to stay focused on the goal:

On the contrary, Christ teaches us to continue as pilgrims in the world so that we will not lose or be deprived of our heavenly inheritance.

CALVIN, INSTITUTES, 3.7.3

We can use and enjoy God’s early gifts, but we are also called to recognize that we do not live for these things; they are provisions for the journey:

Through his Word, the Lord prescribes this measure [for the use of earthly goods] when he teaches that the present life is like a pilgrimage for his people in which they are making their way toward the heavenly kingdom.

CALVIN, INSTITUTES, 3.10.1

Contrary to the late medieval idea of striving to become deserving and anxiously trying to accrue merit with God, Calvin describes the Christian life as a pilgrimage of sanctification. It arises out of gratitude for the justification we have received in Christ.

In the same way, if we have died with Christ (as suits his members) we must seek the things that are above and be pilgrims in the world, that we may aspire to heaven where our treasure is.

CALVIN, INSTITUTES, 3.16.2

The journey is not one of drudgery, Calvin says, but one in which we experience joy because of our salvation in Christ:

The sole and perfect happiness is known to us—even in this earthly pilgrimage. But this happiness sets our hearts afire more and more each day to desire it until it satisfies us with its full fruition.

CALVIN, INSTITUTES, 3.25.2

Finally, Calvin rejects asceticism, and he thinks it an act of ingratitude to reject what he sees as the Lord’s gifts, his supplies, provisions, and aids for the journey. He numbers the civil government among these gifts, and so he denies the teaching of the Anabaptists that the civil government is irredeemable and to be repudiated by Christians:

But if it is the will of God that we make pilgrimage upon the earth while we aspire to our true country, and if that same pilgrimage requires the use of such aids [as the civil government], then those who take this away from people deprive them of their own humanity.

CALVIN, INSTITUTES, 4.20.2

Sin has made us exiles from our true home. We are refugees from the Garden. But Christ, who made pilgrimage from heaven to earth for us (Phil. 2:5-11), guides us by his Word and Spirit, in the company of our fellow travelers, toward the New Jerusalem.   

 

Memento Mori; Memento Vivere.

Working with the Latin language every day makes for some interesting social media ads on my feed. A while back I was scrolling through my poorly-used Instagram account, and I ran across an ad for a medallion stamped with the phrase: Memento mori, “remember that you will die.”

That caught my interest. Not only because I like Latin phrases, which I do. But also because the Christian church has long urged believers to not only be aware of but to actively cultivate a healthy sense of one’s mortality. Long before that, the Hebrew Scriptures shatter our illusions of invincibility with this stark and often unwelcome fact:

“In the sweat of your face you shall eat bread till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

Genesis 3:19

This verse comes into the liturgy for Ash Wednesday: “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” It’s a fact. We know it. It’s foolish for me to deny it. But why do I have to remember it? That sounds a bit morbid–literally.

I don’t know a great deal about art history, but it doesn’t take much to know that the image of a skull is a kind of memento mori, a warning against vanity. In older art, this motif is nearly ubiquitous and one that we today might find morbid simply because we live in a culture that denies and avoids the thought of death. I have always found the 1892 drawing, “All is Vanity,” by C. Allan Gilbert to be particularly effective.

Earlier generations thought about death intentionally. It was, in fact, a form of moral and spiritual discipline.

A common genre of writing was the Ars bene moriendi, the art of dying well. One of the Puritans I have studied, William Perkins, wrote such a book in 1595. It bore the prolix title: A Salve for a Sicke Man: or A Treatise Containing the Nature, Differences, and Kinds of Death: As also the Right Manner of Dying Well. The title page listed a few life-threatening occupations and situations: And it may serve for spirituall instruction to 1. Mariners when they goe to sea. 2. Souldiers when they goe to battell. 3. Women when they trauell of child. Seafaring and warfare are obviously dangerous. Travelling with children might seem to have its own perils; but here the word means to travail, that is, to be in labor with a child. Many women, of course, died in childbirth, as did many children.

And until modern times, death was much more in people’s faces. You couldn’t deny death when it was an exception for a couple not to have lost a child. When women regularly died giving birth. When the plague could sweep through a region and kill a large percentage of the population (which seems a timely bit of history to remember at this moment, as COVID-19 ravages).

Pastors like Perkins reminded their parishioners, and not only those who were sailors or soldiers or great with child, that they were mortal. They were going to die. And they should remember that every single day. Well, that sounds like a downer.

The other day, I was reminded of how utterly foreign this concept now appears. I was meandering through a little-known cemetery here in Grand Rapids. It’s on the grounds of what used to be the “poor farm,” a place for impoverished and even disabled persons a century ago. Residents were buried on the grounds at county expense. Years ago, I had heard stories of this hallowed ground, located behind the Lutheran nursing home. But the other day, I took my energetic corgi Blue on a walk, and we stumbled across the rows of minimalist headstones. I knew what it was right away. The simple markers were ordered in the simplest way, by dates of death, which spanned the years 1894 to 1907. Many more depressions in the earth betrayed unmarked graves. One slab marked the final resting place of a Civil War veteran. I posted a few pictures of the headstones from this walk, and a close relative asked me why in the world I would ever intentionally spend time in such a sad place. Why think about death on purpose?

Now, it’s true; one could be morose about this. One could morbidly focus on death. It’s possible to think only about death, only about impermanence, only about decline. One could live a whole life of mourning, reciting lines from Ecclesiastes about how nothing that gives us joy means a thing, in the end. Memento mori could sound like an invitation to a thoroughgoing pessimism, a worldview of nihilism, a personal attitude of melancholy, or even unremitting depression. But that’s not the point of memento mori. Quite the opposite in fact.

And that brings me back to jewelry ads on social media. Another item on that website (yes, I clicked) was a similar medallion, with a different Latin phrase: memento vivere.

This Latin phrase means: “Remember to live.” And this one also caught my attention, because it is the flip side of memento mori, properly understood. The spiritual guides who wrote treatises on dying well, for sailors and soldiers and expectant mothers and everyone else, were not calling people to a morose, morbid, melancholy existence. Rather, the way to die well is to spend your days living well. Live for something more enduring than things, than being in control, than being right. And if the gospel means anything, it means that death is not the end. It means that beauty and vigor and physical strength will all fade. Your wealth will pass to another. The key to living well, and thus dying well, is not to live for these transient things. Remember to live well. That’s the point of remembering that you will die.

And for some of us, just remembering to live is important. If you carry a heavy load of grief, for dear persons lost, or for dreams long buried. If your outlook on life tends to the melancholy, from depression, from past trauma and wounds imperfectly healed. In that case, do not only recall that you will die. Remember to live in the meantime. Receive the gifts of the day, and the gift that is the day. Give and receive love. Cherish people. Steward your life, and take care of your body, and relish God’s gorgeous creation.

Were I to try to put these two Latin phrases together, my best guess would be this: Memento mori ut memineris vivere. Remember that you will die, so that you will remember to live. 💀

Sin and the Radio DJ

John Balyo, a former radio host for the local Christian station WCSG, has been arrested for sexually abusing a child, and allegedly admits to at least some of the accusations. This gave rise to a question by one of my pastoral colleagues in a closed forum. The gist of the question was: Does the church bear some responsibility for this, because we do not provide a place for sinners to openly confess their sins and struggles? If we lack of a venue to talk about temptations in a safe environment, a place to hold each other accountable and in which to find forgiveness and healing, does this lead to heinous sins such as child molestation?

It was a valuable question, but a complicated one.

It’s complicated by the nature of the case used as an example. The question also went sideways when we got into a debate about whether all sins are the same.

On that last question, there is one and only one sense in which all sins are the same. All sins make a person a sinner. Any sin, and even the condition of original sin, leave each one of us guilty before God and in need of forgiveness and salvation. The bad news is that everyone is equally a sinner; the good news is that God in Christ extends forgiveness for every variety of sinner. He stands ready to forgive all sins (save one). This was the point that the Pharisees tended to forget. Jesus needed to remind them that just because they did not poison the guy next door and hide the body, they still harbored hateful thoughts against him in secret. This mental malice, Jesus says, is also a species of murder, and a violation of the sixth commandment. It also counts as a failure to love one’s neighbor as oneself. This sameness of all sins is what the vast majority of Christians (in my experience) emphasize the vast majority of the time. The intentions are good, even godly. We want to hold out the promise of forgiveness and healing to everyone without exception, even perpetrators of abuse. The tendency to equate all sins may also be a reaction to the old tradition of shaming people for public transgressions, particularly the sin of adultery. There was a day when a couple that got pregnant before marriage would have to publically confess their intimate moral failure before the congregation. Making all sins equal may also be a reaction against harsh attitudes homosexual behavior (or even orientation). But like all pendulum swings, it is an over-reaction.

Apart from Jesus’ important correction to the Pharisees, the sameness of all transgressions is not the dominant emphasis in the Bible. In light of biblical teaching about sin, I think it is a serious mistake to default to the position that “all sins are the same,” despite the fact that it does seem to be the default position among average believers nowadays. Not all sins are of equal weight, not even in God’s eyes. Jesus declared that Herod was “guilty of a greater sin” than Pilate who stood in judgment over Jesus. Herod was a Jew (at least in name) and should have known better. There is the “sin against the Holy Spirit,” which Jesus says is unforgivable. Paul makes it clear to the Corinthian church that sexual transgressions are worse than other sins, I Corinthians 6:18. The intimate joining of bodies in sex also joins souls; to join them casually, with no strings attached, as friends with benefits, scars the soul. This stands in contrast to our culture’s minimizing of the life-creating and soul-binding potential of sex which has the potential for profound beauty and profound harm. There is no such thing as casual sex. Paul declares that another sexual sin to which the Corinthians were turning a blind eye (a man having an affair with his step-mother) was much worse than the sins commonly seen among their pagan neighbors (I Corinthians 5). The apostle’s strong rebuke of the Corinthians for their tolerance of this sin is based in the fact that this particularly vile offense harms the reputation of Christ’s church, and thus harms the cause of the gospel. The Corinthian church itself was committing a sin by standing by and doing nothing, sending the message that this behavior is acceptable to followers of Christ. And in words that might shock our modern nonjudgmental sensibilities, Paul says that it is our duty to judge those who are members of the church. In many practical ways, all sins are not the same. All sins do not bring about the same degree of destructive consequences. Not every transgression is as intentional as another. Some sins arise more out of weakness than malice.

The problem with defaulting to “all sins are the same” is that it minimizes the destructive power of our choices. For example, a person who decides not only to have an affair, but also to abandon their spouse and children and pursue the illicit relationship, can easily tell themselves that these choices are no more sinful than wishing you had your neighbor’s new car rather than the old clunker you drive to work every day. All I have to do is ask forgiveness and move on with my new life with my new partner and my children will be happier because I am happier. And believe me, people do rationalize and minimize their sin this way, and our simplistic Christian clichés can contribute to this casual attitude toward sin.

But getting back to the original question: Is the church to blame when pedophiles act on their impulses? I think the answer is no, even though I can agree that churches do not always create or foster adequate and effective opportunities for our members to practice mutual confession and accountability. I don’t think most persons who have a compulsive drive to abuse children would open up about these impulses if only they had a small group where they felt free and safe to confess their deepest, darkest desires. And so using the Christian radio DJ as an example, pedophilia as an example, inevitably makes the question about how the church ministers to sinners go sideways. In my very real and all-too-painful experience, the tragedy is not that churches take this kind of sin against children too seriously, but that they naïvely treat it just like any other sin. Pedophilia is not like any other sin. It is an enslaving, enduring compulsion. You cannot simply forgive and forget child sexual abuse. You can forgive (if in fact you are a victim of it; one cannot forgive a sin committed against someone else); but you must not forget. For the sake of the children in the congregation, you may not forget, and even for the sake of the offender, you may not forget. To forget is to invite your own culpability in the future abuse of a child. Pedophilia is not a passing phase. It is not a sin like any other sin, and it is exceptionally unhelpful to suggest that other sins like using pornography can lead just about anyone to become a child sexual predator, as this post may or may not imply (I don’t know the author’s intention, but some people read it that way, and it’s not hard to see why.) Pedophilia is typically a lifelong compulsion, a form of bondage, with which a person may struggle to their dying day—even for those who put their faith in Christ and who seek forgiveness and reconciliation. In addition, manipulation is a major part of how child sexual offenders gain access to their victims. Child sexual predators can be extremely convincing, because they have learned to be emotionally manipulative in order to gain access to their victims and to prepare (“groom”) them for abuse. And the harsh reality is this: those who prey on children will sometimes use the goodwill of decent people, including church members, in order to gain access to potential victims. Many offenders were victims of abuse themselves, but it is the nature of this compulsion that the predator will often use that fact to gain sympathy and to secure the too-easy forgiving and forgetting of persons who do not understand the nature of this sin. But we do not do the offender any favors by minimizing his or her sin, and making it the same as speeding on the highway. Worse, we put children at risk when we don’t take it seriously. The person trapped in this harmful compulsion needs grace and healing, but we can help such persons without putting children and the vulnerable in harm’s way.

Sometimes we even blame the victim. We then become complicit in the abuse; we re-abuse the victim. Please understand this: When an adult has sexual contact with a minor, it is not the minor’s fault. I have heard Christian people say, “Well, she was troubled, she was promiscuous, so it’s not all his fault. She’s partly to blame.” Yes, it is all his fault. No, she is not partly to blame. Especially if she was troubled, if she was promiscuous. The perpetrator is entirely at fault because that adult person intentionally took advantage of a child or teen who was hurting and vulnerable. That’s what sexual predators do. They have a kind of radar that can sense this vulnerability, and that’s when they start grooming their victims for abuse. The Christian community, particularly in its most conservative manifestations, often gets this terribly wrong, sometimes even blaming the victims of abuse, as this article points out. This is why it is so important that we have a Safe Church Ministry in our denomination, and why we should listen to their advice (which is forged from experience) when it comes to doing all that we can to create safe environment in our churches.

Using the radio DJ as an example made the question go sideways, but it is still a very important question. Do we create safe places for our members to experience true, transformative community? When I was administering the biblical-theological examination for Dr. Suzanne McDonald at the last meeting of our Classis, she made excellent observation that young adults are hungering for community. I think perhaps we all are. That’s why I find what Josiah Gorter and his companions are doing at The Grace House in Sacramento so interesting. But what can we do here in our corner of Gaines and Byron Townships to create a place where people can forge relationships that are more than casual acquaintances?

God calls the church to be a hospital for sinners. I can’t imagine anyone disagrees with that. But an obstacle we face is that we don’t seem to have the opportunity—we don’t have the mechanism, or a spiritual practice—by which we can open up to each other about our sins and find forgiveness and healing (James 5:16), a place where we can share our burdens and help each other carry those burdens (Galatians 6:1-2). In order to do this, we have to forge relationships that go deeper than the superficial, and that is exceedingly difficult in a culture where we isolate ourselves from each other in suburban homes, where we live in a “development” that is not quite a neighborhood in the fullest sense of the term, where we drive to and from work alone, daily appearing and disappearing behind an automatic garage door. That, to me, is the hard question. I have seen a few examples of congregations in which these relationships were fostered, in mentoring relationships, or in small groups. It can be done. The real question may be: are we willing to take the risk of being vulnerable? And will we find someone who is willing to take on, as a ministry, the work of creating these opportunities for mentoring and small group fellowship and accountability? Will we see it as just adding one more thing to our busy lives? Or would it be the one thing that we add that puts the rest of our lives into perspective? Would it be the one commitment by which we can really hear God speaking to us by his Spirit, where we can concretely feel the grace of Christ expressed in the people who together form his Body? I know that we can, because we can do all things through Christ who gives us strength. I cannot do it all myself, because I am not the Christ, and I am not the church. Nor am I exactly sure about how to do it, beyond my sense that perhaps a very intentional small group ministry would help us in the life of discipleship. Perhaps there are also other ways to meet this need; maybe some creative ideas will come from our members, or from other church leaders in our area. But I know we can do it, together, with God’s help.

Got Religion?

Originally published in The Banner, January 2010.

I’m about to say something just a bit shocking. It’s highly controversial.

Here it is: We Reformed people are religious. The Christian faith is a religion. There, I said it.

Why is that so controversial?

It’s because “religion” has become a bad word in Christian circles. People outside the church want to be spiritual but not religious; and people inside the church want to have a relationship but not religion. In his wildly popular book The Shack, William Young has Jesus say, “I’m not too big on religion, and not very fond of politics or economics either.” It has become common for Christian leaders to claim that the good news of Jesus Christ has nothing to do with religion.

But it’s a mistake to talk about religion like that, a big mistake, with big consequences. Religion refers to the universal human characteristic of making something, or someone, ultimate in our lives, and pursuing the object of our devotion as the ultimate good. Every person, then, is religious. God made all people with a religious receptacle at our core.

Because we are designed to be in relationship to God, designed for worship and reverence, people are inescapably religious. But because of our sin, our rebellion against God, we seek to replace God with something or someone else. We direct our religion, our devotion and reverence, toward created things rather than the Creator. We create self-serving spiritualities because sin has tainted our religious longings, just as it has tainted our politics and economics and sexuality. We create alternate stories to explain the world and our place in it.

But that doesn’t mean religion is a bad word. We are religiously broken, but God’s good news in Jesus Christ enables us to experience religious wholeness. The gospel is not the enemy of religion but its true form. The gospel is the answer—a surprising and radically unique answer—to our deepest spiritual longings.

If I say that I am spiritual but not religious, what I really mean is that my homemade religious opinions are better than yours. If I say that I am rational, not religious, I mean that my faith in science is much more respectable than your belief in a God who has never made an appearance in any photos from the Hubble telescope. If I say I prefer a personal relationship with Jesus to “organized religion,” I likely mean that I have a self-centered, private kind of religion and have little use for the messiness of living in a community of worship and discipleship.

Even though all people are religious, many people deny that aspect of their humanity with an almost evangelical passion. All people have a “seed of religion” buried in their hearts, John Calvin said. Left to grow wild that seed ends up yielding nothing but weeds. But watered with the gospel and cultivated by God’s Spirit, it grows into devotion to God, blooms into discipleship, and bears fruit in service to the least and the lost of the world.

It’s extremely important for our witness to the world that we reclaim the word religion. Why? Because the gospel calls people to find the answer to their deepest longings, their religious longings, in Jesus Christ.

When Paul brought the good news to the sophisticated people of Athens, he grabbed their attention by saying, “I notice that you are very religious” (Acts 17:22). Paul used the universal human longing for relationship with the Creator—our desire for a story that makes sense of the world and history and human life—as an entry for the story of Jesus. Then he introduced the Athenians to the one God, the “unknown God,” who created them, loved them, and sent his own Son to die for them.

Rather than a human effort to obtain salvation, the Christian faith is the one religion in which God seeks us out and finds us. It is the one religion in which God comes to broken people and makes them whole again. It is the one true story about the meaning of life in this world, and it turns out to be a love story.

FOR DISCUSSION:

1. What does the word “religion” mean to you? Why does it have a negative effect on some people?

2. What does it mean to be “spiritual”?

3. How is the word “religion” tied to our Christian identity?

4. How can we reclaim this word?

5. How can we best cultivate the “seed of religion” buried in people’s hearts?

Help Wanted

The ministry of the church is a joint effort. The calling of pastors is to “equip the saints for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up” (Eph. 4:12). We, the Blacketers, have been here at First Cutlerville for a year and a half, but the congregation still seems very new to us in some ways. Since I have been teaching catechism immediately after the morning service, I find I have much less time to connect and interact with members. There are still many people in the congregation whom I recognize, but your name doesn’t come to me right away. We were probably introduced when we arrived, but I have this professor brain that remembers numerous dates from the life of John Calvin, but your wife tells me her name is Linda and five minutes later I call her Lynne. Some of my fellow pastors can hear a name once and remember it forever. I’m not one of them. I have to work hard at it, and I often embarrass myself by getting it wrong. And then there are many of you whose names I get right, but I still don’t know much about you; I haven’t heard your story.

So I need your help in the ongoing process of getting to know each other. One way involves the nametags that I saw everyone wearing were quite helpful when we first came. We should continue to use those, and not only for the absent-minded professor-pastor. They also help to promote a feeling of welcome and hospitality for visitors, and also new members, who still may not know very many people at First Cutlerville. And if you don’t know me very well, I would love to get to know you. Starbucks, anyone? I would like to have more pastoral visits that are just for the purposes of getting to know you and connecting with you.

And speaking of hospitality, that is another area where I need your help. We are known as a caring congregation. So I encourage you to extend that caring to the newcomer, the visitor, the person who sits on the other side of church whom you don’t know that well. It’s impossible for me to develop a close relationship with everyone in the church; but it’s not impossible for every family to make a commitment to invite a newcomer over for lunch on a Sunday.I also need your help when it comes to the vision of this congregation for reaching out into our community, and to our neighbors, to those who could really be blessed by a supportive church community like First Cutlerville. What are some of the good ministries that were happening when there were two full-time pastors at First Cutlerville? Are there ways for members to take the lead in some of these areas? Are there visitors whom you have noticed, and who may need to be connected with a Bible study, or invited to meal night?And I need your help if you are a regular attender, but you have held back from getting involved. Maybe you’re waiting to be asked. Please don’t wait. We need people like you to help out with our Gems and Cadets, or our Kids’ Hope mentoring ministry to at-risk kids in Marshall Elementary. And those are just a few examples.We’re all in this together, this thing called church—the community Jesus creates, guides, loves. He uses his bride the church to draw people to himself, and to help lost people can find their way, by encountering the love of Jesus in us. Your help is needed, and wanted.

Extremism is no Virtue, and Moderation is no Vice

“Extremism in the cause of liberty is no vice.” So said politician Barry Goldwater in a famous speech. The fringes of the political right embrace this dictum. Today it seems to be the motto of political talk radio. And many conservative Christians seem to think it ranks right up there with Churchill’s wartime exhortations.

Except that it’s utter foolishness.

Lately, Christians seem to be living by this maxim, evidenced by their over-the-top political rhetoric, displayed in their Facebook feeds, their bumper stickers, and their endlessly forwarded junk emails—all the great forums of political discourse. As I write this, the top conservative radio talk show celebrity has just labeled Pope Francis a Marxist. This radio entertainer has no education in political science, economics, or theology, yet he feels competent to analyze the Pope’s recent apostolic exhortation, Evangelii Gaudium (The Joy of the Gospel) and judge him to be a commie. I roll my eyes so hard I can almost see inside my brain. This kind of incendiary ignorance promotes hatred, foments division, and fosters bigotry. But lots of conservative Christians will think it’s just great.

Don’t be one of those people.

You might think I’m talking politics. I’m not. I’m talking the Bible and the Reformed Confessions. Scripture demands that Christians use civil language in debate. “Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone” (Col. 4:6). The Apostle Paul also speaks to honoring and respecting the authorities ordained by God—and in Paul’s case, these were pagan Roman authorities who persecuted Christians. Some Christians today speak with less respect and more contempt of the president than Paul did of the Roman Emperor. “Give to everyone what you owe them: If you owe taxes, pay taxes; if revenue, then revenue; if respect, then respect; if honor, then honor” (Rom. 13:7). In the Belgic Confession, art 36, we confess: “Moreover everyone, regardless of status, condition, or rank, must be subject to the government, and pay taxes, and hold its representatives in honor and respect, and obey them in all things that are not in conflict with God’s Word, praying for them that the Lord may be willing to lead them in all their ways and that we may live a peaceful and quiet life in all piety and decency.” It’s that holding them in honor and respect that has been cast aside by too many Christians who think extremism is no vice.

But a vice it is: sinful, unbiblical, arrogant, harmful to the witness of the church.

You might think I’m some kind of liberal, or a Marxist, like that commie Pope in Rome. I’m not. I shoot guns. I don’t think big government is the answer to every problem. But to call the Pope a Marxist is slanderous nonsense. His letter reflects Catholic social teaching and concern for the poor that goes back a long time. In fact, it was shared almost point-for-point by some guy named Abraham Kuyper, the Reformed theologian and Dutch prime minister. Catholic social teaching, in turn, goes back to the Bible, which repeatedly urges Israel, and then the church, to care for the poor. But a big segment of the church today (including, recently, a well-respected financial guru) assumes the poor are lazy; they all feel entitled. But such attitudes are clueless; they reveal a simplistic and self-righteous perspective on poverty. Poverty is complex; it can enslave people in a cycle from which many cannot escape just by working harder. I know poverty. When I was a child, my single parent mother bought groceries with food stamps. She was able to get out of poverty only because she had certain advantages: supportive parents and a state-subsidized university. Not everyone has or can avail themselves of such advantages.  The early church cared deeply about the poor (Gal. 2:10) and gave generously to the poor. But today all some Christians seem to give them is scorn and judgment.

Barry Goldwater, after claiming that extremism is no vice, followed up with the claim, “moderation in the pursuit of justice is no virtue!”

Wrong again. Particularly for Reformed believers, moderation is one of the highest virtues. John Calvin ranked it near the top of his list. Listening respectfully to someone who disagrees with you is a Christlike act, because it means putting your own cherished opinions on hold for a moment, in order to respect another person who bears the image of God. As James says, “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak…” (1:19). Moderation means confessing that I do not have all the answers, that I could be wrong, that people of goodwill can disagree.

I see the same sin in politically left-leaning Christians as well. Liberals, too, can speak of those who disagree with them as dimwitted Neanderthals. But this is not the predominant temptation in our community. And not all political cartoons or humor or critical posts cross the line; civil disagreement and even parody are revered forms of free speech. But lately it seems that the line is crossed so often that it hardly exists anymore. When I see your Facebook posts that are hateful and disrespectful to our current president, I try to ignore them. But I wonder if I should. Today I saw a post (not from a member) that showed a hangman’s gallows and the words: “Recall Process Simplified.” Funny? When the comments suggest our African-American president as the prime candidate for the noose, it is pretty hard not to associate this with the racist lynchings of our recent history.

Don’t be one of those people.

Don’t repost stuff that is borderline racist. Don’t post conspiracy theories about the president being born in Kenya or being a Muslim or hating America. Those are lies, violations of the commandment about bearing false witness. Disagree vigorously with the president’s policies (I’ll often agree with you), but do so with the respect and civility that God himself requires of Christians in Scripture, which we affirm in our Confession. Remember that what you say, what you post, what you forward, reflects on you as a Christian, and thus on the church of Jesus Christ, and its witness. Because extremism is no virtue, and moderation is no vice; particularly when those who bear the name Christian speak in the public square.

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