| wooden nickel |
Well, I’m back. Please – stay seated; don’t get up. What – you didn’t even know I’d left? Yeah, I guess I did still come around occasionally – sat in the pews, shook hands during the greeting, sang the hymns, played drums once in a while with the worship team, even performed special music when there was an opening. But I had checked out mentally years ago – my heart was vaguely in anything I did. Well, more accurately, I probably sat gritting my teeth, sighing, shaking my head in, what – regret? Disappointment? Disgust? Sorrow? Yes, probably all of these. And more.
But let’s be honest – I probably always was your toughest customer. Having grown up in the church – “knowing” all the “answers” – I may have presented more problems than even those of an unbeliever darkening the doors for the first time.
And, I admit, I brought with me a lot of baggage – pieces that I picked up intentionally, others that I simply found in my possession, not knowing exactly where they’d come from.
I mean, I was one of those who felt “called” at an early age – as a teenager, if memory serves me. And I asked hard questions even then. I seemed to take more seriously than most of my friends what the church said about what the Bible meant. Not that it made me any better than them – Heaven knows that through the years I have prayed on more than one occasion for a “simple faith.” But I was an analytical thinker – good in math, a Georgia Tech graduate, a “helluva engineer” as they say. So when all the i’s weren’t dotted and all the t’s weren’t crossed – when the sequence a..b..c.. didn’t lead to d – when Matthew, Mark and Luke didn’t arrive at John – I had problems.
And on top of all that, sonofagun, I became an alcoholic – and then a recovering alcoholic – and then just a drunk. Functional at times, funny and pleasing on the outside, angry and resentful and bitter on the inside, prone to take it out on those closest to me. And, partly motivated by guilt, and partly answering God’s “call,” I took time off during a mid-life crisis to step out of engineering and go to seminary. Got a masters degree, studied Ryrie’s theology, learned about hermeneutics, and the grammatico-historical method, and about plenary inspiration, and about a closed canon. And even graduated magna cum laude (Jack Daniels on my breath). But God, in His wisdom, decided He didn’t need another ministry-headline-in-the-making, and I went back into my old meaningless, pay-the-bills job.
And the years went on, and the drinking came and went and came back again, and I wound up living in a pay-by-the-week motel while my wife and kids “made it on their own just fine, thank you” in the house I was making payments on.
But I’m back. And I can’t say “where I’m at” at the moment is because something snapped. No, the more accurate picture is probably one of those medieval dungeon gadgets where they tie your hands at one end and your feet at another. And stretch.
It just seems that, at some point in all the stretching, I broke. And I had to admit that I didn’t – wouldn’t – couldn’t believe what I said I believed anymore. I couldn’t believe that a framework that only stood firm when I covered a few foundational cracks with euphemisms like, “Well, my ways are not God’s ways,” or, “I guess we’ll understand that more fully in Heaven,” or, “We are limited here by our human knowledge, so we have to give the Bible the benefit of the doubt” – I couldn’t believe any more in something that, in the end, was no better than a storefront prop along a horse-lined main street in a B-movie western. I had to put aside the fear of looking behind it.
And, no – I didn’t just arrive with all the answers (I came with the questions – remember?). You may have seen this movie before. But Augustine could be wrong, even Aquinas. To borrow a phrase from the recent election season, maybe “all the precincts still haven’t reported.” Anyway, the “Catholic” church existed just fine for fifteen hundred years without the five points of Calvinism, without Luther’s theses, without if-you-die-today-where-will-you-spend-eternity tracts, even without every-head-bowed-every-eye-closed altar calls. More importantly, even without a Bible or two – or five – or ten – in every home. And even though we’re 500 years past Martin Luther – five hundred years into slicing and dicing scripture with our theological syst-o-matics – that doesn’t mean we couldn’t still be wrong about some basic tenets of our faith. And one hundred years from now, it will likely be time to look again at whatever it is that, today, we decide we believe. If Jesus could reduce the whole of two millennia under the law to, “Love God…and love your neighbor…”, the very existence of our grand fortress of “–ologies” is probably a clue that we may have steered the ship a little off course.
One of the most loved books in Alcoholics Anonymous literature is a book by Chuck C. called, “A New Pair Of Glasses.” A new pair of glasses is what I need to wear now as I come back and look again for the first time at certain essentials of my faith.
I have to look at the Bible through a new pair of glasses. I have to look at it as a record that men wrote detailing their relationship with God. I have to look at it as man looking upward, and not God in the heavens looking downward. Inspiration makes sense as long as it doesn’t become dictation, which is what we’ve moved to – intentionally or unintentionally. And that makes the whole understanding of what “inerrancy” might be so crucial – or even if inerrancy is something we need to continue to chain the Bible to. What I’m beginning to accept more is that, plain and simple, people wrote about what was going on between them and God. God may have moved some individuals to write certain historical narratives so they were passed down from generation to generation. He may even have brought accurate quotes and narratives to their memories. But I no longer need to argue – or defend – that He did it with every “jot and tittle”. David wrote psalms of anguish, of praise, of storytelling – just like I do in my feeble attempts at songwriting. And when I write a song, I put down a version, and I strike out words, and I replace them with others, and I rearrange lines. I even do this months and years after the original take. You know that feeling when you listen to today’s pop “music”, or any rap or hip-hop? That reaction of, “Haven’t I heard this before?” I no longer accept any premise that would obviously mean God had a similar reaction when He listened to David. If He had moved David to write something – however specific we want to define “moving” – or had given him the words or phrases to use, that would have been His reaction. And I no longer buy it. Who knows – God might even have a “favorite Psalm” just like we have favorite songs. And His tastes may change over time.
I need to look at the Abba-Jesus relationship through a new set of glasses. Just like God as He listened to David’s writings, I too want to be overjoyed, and amazed, and impressed, and even surprised by what my kids accomplish.
I need to look at Hell through a new set of glasses. To me, all these other topics are, as Solomon wrote, a “chasing after the wind” if we cannot come to a more accurate view of what Hell is. Or, perhaps, what Hell isn’t. There are views that are held by many that simply cannot be true if this present life is to have any meaning. And I refuse to hide behind the “God’s ways are not man’s ways” ruse anymore – that’s just a refusal to discuss the real problems with our positions. And I’m convinced that, at its core, it’s a fear-based response to the answers that our questions lead to.
My understanding – and, I admit, I need to do some further study here – is that the OT people did not have the concept of an afterlife of eternal, physical torment for the wicked. Or the “unsaved” – but then they had no concept of the “unsaved” either. (Bring out the hoops…) Some argue that OT believers went to a kind of “holding cell” and were taken up to Heaven when Jesus descended to Hell during the period between His death and resurrection. To me, there are so many problems with this on a time/space basis – or on a natural/supernatural or physical/spiritual basis – that it doesn’t even merit attention. We also suggest that the cross is sufficient for all eternity – for believers living both before and after its point in history. Anyone who made an honest, legitimate response to God – even before Christ’s resurrection – was “saved” – without a tract, or an altar call with every head bowed and every eye closed, or having the Romans Road laid out in front of them. But be very careful here – because you start taking some stances about how God can operate that makes a legitimate entry point for Muslims, for Jews, for Hindus – even for Native Americans. (Can you imagine what that might do to the property values on the street where Jesus is building a house for you?!)
And while this argument may just be feeble enough to address the OT believer, what about the OT unbeliever? Somehow, I don’t see it being very fair to have that kind of eternal afterlife as an option, and not making its likelihood absolutely clear to each soul that might end up there. There’s a BIG difference between thinking that I just “die”, or that I “sleep”, or that I go to an eternal “no man’s land” – and the possibility of eternal physical torment forever and ever. If I was an OT unbeliever, I’d get me a lawyer – God didn’t give me all the facts – He never told me that my grade was based 100% on the final exam, and what the consequences were if I failed.
Even with these difficulties, I have a bigger problem with attempts by Christians to turn discussion away from Hell, and to the “benefits” that come to a believer in this life. That, somehow, I should be swayed during the Christian sales pitch by the five or ten or twenty or thirty years that I will live here in the joy, happiness and bliss of doing God’s work. That THIS is somehow more important than the piece that the fast-talking man describes at the end of the commercial: “But wait – there’s MORE! If you order by midnight tonight, we’ll throw in a GET OUT OF HELL FREE card so that you will not have to spend an eternity (which you can’t comprehend) in physical torment (which you can’t even begin to imagine)! So order now!” I’m sorry – all of these temporal, here-today-gone-tomorrow blessings pale to insignificance when this 800-lb gorilla sits down beside it. Hold your candle over a flame – just for a second. Imagine that to an infinite degree for an infinite amount of time. You know, I can’t even imagine God sending Satan to a place like that. People, Hell is either the issue or it isn’t. And if it is, and if our friends and family might go there, and if something we can do might keep them from going there, then the rest of our lives become meaningless. And if God, by whatever means His “ways are not my ways”, has determined ahead of time that a child He created is going to go there regardless of what I do, then I’m not sure that He’s a God I can worship.
I need to look at the cross – and Jesus’ death – through a new set of glasses. More and more, I’m coming to see the cross as God’s way to show us how much He loved us. No deal with the devil, no ransoming of souls, no cleansing of me so that I can stand in God’s presence. In effect, He wanted to show that no matter what we did to Him – we could curse Him, spit on Him, slap Him in the face, mock Him, jeer him, torture Him. We could even nail Him to a cross and murder Him. And even after burying Him, He wanted us to know that He would come back from the dead to say, “I love you.” Because getting our hands around what that little four-letter word “love” means is the key to our lives, folks. “Love” God, “love” your neighbor. But God, how do we do that? What does “love” mean? “Here, I’ll show you,” He says.
I need to look at God’s attributes through a new set of glasses. How many times have I heard, “Yes, God is love, but He’s also just”… Read my lips: God isn’t just. He never was. The whole bottom line in the Christianity we profess is that I did something wrong and DIDN’T get punished, and Jesus did NOTHING wrong and DID get punished. Where’s the justice? Read the parable about the workers in the field – the ones coming late in the day got the same wages. That’s not fair. That’s not justice. But maybe we need to look at it differently. Maybe we need to see that God’s sense of “justice” pales in light of God’s love, and God’s compassion, and God’s grace, and God’s mercy. For there even to be “grace” or “mercy” says that “justice” can be set aside and love be given a higher priority. All these sides of God are not, in the end, equal. He is simply not a “just” God to the same degree that He is a “loving” God. And I can say, “Thank God He isn’t…”
I have to look at my belief that I, of all people through the millennia, have finally got things figured out, through a new set of glasses. We believed the Earth was flat – or that, at the very least, the Sun revolved around the Earth – for over six thousand years. Questions led to further understanding, and we were forced to change our position. The “Catholic” church seemed good enough for God for a millennium and a half – without weekly calls to “be saved”, or to “give your heart to Jesus”. Martin Luther’s questions led to further understanding, and we were forced to change our position. I think the time has come to look again at some questions – and I think the answers we come to will force us to change our position yet again. And a hundred years from now will be another time to ask questions, and whatever stance we decide to take today will probably be modified again based on a new understanding.
So, there it is. Maybe I should have taken the fifth. I mean, after all, that’s probably what I have the most experience with…
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