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Category Archives for Spiritual stuff

Post-Enlightenment Faith

It’s not that hard to figure it out
Where there’s no question, there’s no doubt
Glen Phillips – There Comes a Time

Musehead has an interesting post today on poetic faith (not that I want you to stop reading mine and run over there…), in which he proposes that faith is in reality a struggle against unbelief, or a “suspension of disbelief,” a phrase coined by Coleridge. I can’t be quite as literary as Musehead, but hopefully I can contribute something to the conversation that is likewise profound.

What faith is, is a topic which has come up many times over the years, often in discussions with my children, who have all struggled with this issue. The real issue is never actually with faith itself, but rather, with our definitions of faith. This, by the way, is sure to frustrate many in the “faith community” who are routinely encouraged to completely suspend all mental activity in order to truly “believe,” and to consequently send in their $1,000 contribution. Suspension of reason, however, is not faith, it’s just voluntary insanity.

One of the lessons of the Tower of Babel is that language is all about definitions. Without having a common understanding of the strange sounds and symbols we refer to as words, communication is non-existent. This is what makes the job of translating not only the words, but the concepts, of the Bible such a perilous endeavor. It’s not a job for the faint-hearted. What many of us fail to realize is that the English language is not static; it evolves at a fairly rapid rate, more so today with universal access to electronic forms of communication. As a result, the words used a few years ago may not convey the proper meaning today. (Just try reading Shakespeare.)

Concepts also undergo this process of evolution as philosophers continue to philosophize, scientists continue to scientificate, and writers continue to write. One of the big changes, philosophically, has been with the concept of belief, especially since the period known as the Enlightenment (which is at the very least, a presumptuous name). What does it mean to really believe? Do we have to have a valid Boolean syllogism? A “proven” scientific theory? Historical proof? DNA testing?

Our Modern concepts of truth, belief, and faith have not done us any spiritual or intellectual favors. We tend to understand that true faith or belief means “beyond the shadow of a doubt.” That’s ridiculous, and probably impossible.

This isn’t to say that faith is unreasonable. The concept of “reason” has likewise suffered over time. Faith is entirely reasonable. I think the most profound statement of faith in the Bible is Peter’s response to Jesus, “Where else would I go?” This, to me, evidences not a rock-solid, without-any-doubt belief, but a carefully reasoned weighing of the available options. I may not understand, but I don’t think I have any other options.

Faith does not exist in the absence of doubt; faith is always a choice between belief and unbelief. To sit on a chair, we choose to believe (not unreasonably, based on our knowledge and experience) that the chair will support our weight. Some choices are more “iffy” – Noah, for example, probably had to suspend a much more attractive disbelief.

To suspend disbelief – not to ignore it – is the act of faith.

Sweet surrender, oh my lord
I never thought I’d see
Not surprising, still I find some shaking
And cry more, then laughing, softly
There comes a time in your life
Pull on your coat, go outside.

Written on 08 June 2006 by me under Spiritual stuff with 3 Comments

On What’s Important

An interesting question, “what’s important?” So many things claim import in our lives: career, money, power, education, status, marriage, family, church – and they all have a claim on first place. But, to focus on one requires that the others are set aside, or at least relegated to some lower place.

It can drive you crazy. It can make you despondent. It – the “cares of the world” – can choke the life right out of you.

What really is important? We now live in the 21st Century, a concept that I haven’t fully grasped yet. We’re 22 years past 1984, we’ve survived 2001, we’re now well on our way into a Brave New World. Life has changed from the simple life that once existed: there are new demands – high speed, even instant, demands. There are gold-plated demands, high-tech demands, and demands that have raised the bar higher than you can possibly reach. Family farms are all but obsolete, craftsmen can no longer compete, and if you can’t make the cut, you’re out in the street. (That kind of rhymes…)

Wow, I’m stressed just writing this.

But, what’s really important? Is it the pursuit of happiness? Is it honor? Success? Fulfilling your destiny? Or, perhaps what is most important is simply whatever is needed at the moment. That’s a nice, pithy saying – but, how does this really help?

To help sort out those things that certainly do not require any worry, I go by the 10 Year Rule. I simply ask myself, “will this matter 10 years from now?” If not, then it’s clearly not worth stressing over. It works much of the time.

Jesus thought a bit further ahead, and recommended the Eternal Significance Rule. Does what you are doing have eternal significance? Are you laying up treasures in Heaven, or are you spending your time concerned with wood, hay & stubble, those items that will not survive the fire test?

Jesus, of course, lived in a much simpler time, before cell phones, WMDs and mortgages, car payments and cable TV bills. What was there really to worry about? It must have been easier to “not be anxious about tomorrow,” and “consider the lilies of the field” would actually have held meaning. What did these people spend their time doing? Most people didn’t even have books to read! (And, if they did, they probably weren’t novels.)

What’s really important? Do society and technology really change anything? Does your Palm Pilot tell you what’s important, or does it just provide a list of “the cares of this world” that choke the life out of you? I’ve said before that one of the great things about America is that we get to plant our own weeds; and, it seems that we often spend more time planting weeds than wheat.

Have you ever stopped and thought that even with such a simple life, Jesus still felt it important to talk about anxiety and priorities? Perhaps the issue is not what, or even how many things vie for our attention, but our ability to remain “centered” on what is important.

What’s really important? Do we even remember?

Written on 07 June 2006 by me under Random Thoughts, Spiritual stuff with 3 Comments

A Question of Calling

If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well.
- Martin Luther King, Jr.

This quote appeared today on one of those “Quote of the Day” things, that seem designed so that a relative non-thinker can pretend to have deep thoughts once a day. It’s just slightly more meaningful than the fortune cookie fortune I read this weekend (It said, “an important conversation about you is happening today” – like that wouldn’t apply every day?).

It’s second goal would seem to be to prove that seemingly great thinkers often said really stupid things.

“If a man is called to be a street sweeper…” is quite a phrase; it’s packed with all kinds of Jungian implications and underlying theological assumptions. I’ll ignore the Jungian aspect (although I am curious as to how a Jungian would analyze King’s speech title, “I have a dream”); the theological assumptions are more than enough for one little post.

The question of “calling” is worth considering. Can someone actually believe that they were called, compelled, destined, or predestined, to be a street sweeper? Or, to look at it from another angle, can you accept that someone is called or destined to greatness? It really is the same question. If you believe that some are “called” to be greater than you are, then logically, the assumption would have to be that some were called to be lower than you. Is that what you believe?

It makes you think, doesn’t it? Is the American Dream truth, or is it a giant lie? Can anyone grow up to be President (as long as you were born here)? Or, is there in fact a cosmic caste system, where all of us deal with “glass ceilings?” Could the dangling carrot of success just be a guarantee of frustration and defeat?

I have known people who have believed (by evidence of their lives) that they were “called” to a low station. Bettering themselves was, in their eyes, a waste of time. I have known others who have accepted that their destiny was to greatness, and by default, also accepted that others by necessity were called to be “lesser.”

There are Biblical implications that some are called to be greater than others. Or, are there? Perhaps “free will” does, in fact, come into play? Is “calling” a participatory thing? Are some pots destined for the trash heap because that was the potter’s intent at the wheel, or was it because they cracked? Do some get more talents because they were destined for greatness, or because they were willing to invest them?

But, here’s the real question: what is the real definition of greatness? Do those with the most talents, with the apparent guarantee of a great destiny, get the “high place” at the table?

Apparently not. Perhaps it is those who make the most of what they have, not that they accept street sweeping as their calling, but who make the most of that opportunity, who get asked to move up to a higher seat. “Blessed are those who are poor in spirit …” Do we know, exactly, what Jesus meant here? Many take this to mean it is actually good to be poor in spirit. I think not.

The Kingdom of God, the “Upside-down Kingdom,” comes to bring greatness – the riches and advantages of a Kingdom inheritance – to those who may appear (to us) to have a lowly calling. Does that mean being resigned to a life of the mundane? Not at all. We are, after all, encouraged to “invest” what we have been given.

Our calling, along with whatever else it may mean, is to have life, and to have that life abundantly. If, along the way, we are called to sweep the streets, certainly we should do it well, but not because that is our calling, our destiny. We do it as an investment – because we are called to the Kindgom. The truly great are those who indeed believe that they are destined for greatness, and that there is room for all to be great.

To give up the “high place,” to unselfishly assist others up the “ladder” before you – that is a life of greatness, and to these will indeed be given more.

That is our calling.

Written on 05 June 2006 by me under Spiritual stuff with 2 Comments

Abraham’s own personal, individual, shrink-wrapped and signed by the artist relationship with God

The LORD said to Abram: Leave your country, your family, and your relatives and go to the land that I will show you. I will bless you and make your descendants into a great nation. You will become famous and be a blessing to others. I will bless anyone who blesses you, but I will put a curse on anyone who puts a curse on you. Everyone on earth will be blessed because of you. Gen 12:1-3

In considering the individual nature of our relationship with God in the context of the corporate nature of the church, the example of Abram is worth considering (which is why I mentioned it). Abram live in a place and time where an individual relationship with a “god” was unheard of; there were family gods (referenced later in Genesis), and possibly local territorial gods.

What is apparent and (to me) profound in these 3 simple verses, is that God demonstrates that He:

  • was more than just a rock or hunk of wood
  • spoke to Abram “person to person,” thereby instituting a personal relationship with Abram
  • was a “mobile” God – he was not tied to that specific geographic location
  • was not a “family” God – Abram was called specifically to leave his family (although apparently that did not mean that he couldn’t bring along Sarah, Lot, etc.)

What is apparent through this and through reading the rest of the Bible, is that:

  • God’s plan was to develop a new community and that intent was key to Abram’s calling
  • God’s covenants with Abraham applied equally with Abraham’s family, hired help & descendants (circumcision speaks for itself)
  • Those who are now in Christ are included as members of that covenant (Galatians 3)

While I’m near the subject, I would strongly encourage everyone to make a study of the covenants. Most Evangelicals – referring to the narrower class of evangelicals who distinguish themselves from “traditional” protestant churches – really don’t know much about or understand the covenants, and therefore lack an understanding of the context for their own salvation.

While God’s call and interaction with Abraham does speak of an individual relationship, it is clear that Abraham was never called to be separate from the community that God also called; in fact, for Abraham, he was the originator of the community. God’s purpose with Abraham was not distinct from his purpose for the future chosen people. Abraham’s relationship with God was personal, but not individualized, the way that we western modern/post-modern people tend to view things. God definitely knew Abraham as an individual, and it is clear from Genesis that Abraham grew in his relationship with God in a personal way. However, from what I understand of the ancient world-view, Abraham never would have understood that his personal knowledge of God did not involve his family and his community, as well. Community, for Abraham, was not an ideal; community existed, and Abraham would never have considered an existence apart from community. Although God called Abraham to be a nomad, he was not the Marlborough Man, that American icon of rugged individualism. We really come from different worlds, and we don’t understand each other.

For those of us who are post-enlightenment, Western, and most of all, American, this “other-wordly” concept of community is difficult to grasp. I have somewhat of an objective understanding of it, but I know I don’t “own” it. I am acutely aware that I don’t even understand community in the same way that other non-western cultures do, much less some ancient culture. But, I’ll continue to think about it and write on this topic and who knows – I may even have a revelation.

Written on 30 May 2006 by me under My Own Personal Religion, Spiritual stuff with 2 Comments

My own personal Jesus

It’s the American way of religion (I’m not willing to actually call it Christianity), having your own personal Jesus. He’s whoever you want him to be, ready when you are, your own frozen, ready-to-microwave savior. That is what we’ve preached for years, isn’t it? “For God so loved you …?”

How about this one: God loves you so much that if you were the only sinner on Earth, Jesus would have died for you. Is that so? Not that God would have let you burn, but do you think perhaps He’d have a different plan for “individual” issues?

Sometime in the last month or so I got this little e-mail newsletter from CT / Leadership Journal with a link to an article by a theology professor named John Suk, from their Out of Ur blog, on this very issue. His main assertion is that the language of a personalized religion is actually using the language of secularization, and as a result we are making Jesus less like God and more like us. He asks:

Is this possible? Do many Christians have a personal relationship not so much with Jesus, but with something in their heads, with something that they’re comfortable with, a social construction driven by their need to go easy on themselves?

Ouch. However, if the shoe fits…

One of the results of the emphasis on our own personal Jesus is that it all too often gives way to our own personal disappointments, when our own personal genie-in-a-bottle won’t give us all of our 3 wishes. Do you know people who have “lost faith” for this very reason? I do. Not that this is the main reason to question the American personal-pan Christianity; the main reason is that the Bible doesn’t actually support this perspective.

Caveat: I am not poo-pooing any notion of a personal, individual aspect to Christianity. That would be stupid. What I am trying to get across in this series of “personal” posts is that any understanding of the personal aspect of Christianity must be first seen in the context of the universal, covenantal, corporate nature of Christianity.

There are, in fact, very important personal aspects to Christianity, which were, at best, marginalized during the “state-church” eras, as well as in many of the established churches during the 1st half of the 20th Century. Certainly the “personal” evangelical movement was helpful in reestablishing some of these things, but as is often the case, the result has been error to the opposite extreme, in part, I think, because it removed the personal aspect from the broader, covenantal nature of the church & theology.

Next I’ll try to put some of the personal aspects of faith in context, so stay tuned …

Written on 25 May 2006 by me under Church, My Own Personal Religion, Spiritual stuff with 4 Comments

My own personal testimony

I was raised a Lutheran, which, I found out later in life, was a good thing. Essentially, Lutheran theology is pretty sound. Now, I’m not saying anything about the current state of that institution, as I haven’t been to a Lutheran church in probably 20 years or more (the last time was probably to a funeral). I’m just saying that core Lutheran theology – the theology you’ll find dating back a few hundred years – is good stuff.

But, then the Jesus movement hit, and I was bombarded with teachings all centered around the need for me to have a “personal” relationship with Jesus, and a “personal” testimony. It was no longer good enough just to believe the truth. It’s tough for a Lutheran kid to all of a sudden be surrounded by people who could tell you the exact moment they were “saved.” My testimony, on the other hand, was pretty bland. “Well, I was raised in church, and believe in Jesus, and, well, that’s about it.” No big sins, no major doubts, I never dabbled in Satan worship or did drugs (although as weird as I am, some people refuse to believe this). I was just a good Lutheran kid. My Baptist friends doubted I was saved.

The Jesus Movement led to the Great Evangelical Swell that has now engulfed us, and even a whole lot of Lutherans now have personal testimonies. In America (I can only speak of what I know), Christianity has become a personal, if not personalized religion; that is, American Evangelical theology is built around an individual experience or understanding of the Gospel, and around a personal experience of forgiveness. It’s not enough to be able to state (with meaning) the Nicene or Apostles’ Creed; a higher form of belief is to be able to say, “I once was lost but now I’m found, and my life is so much better now.”

You know what? Personal testimonies are not necessarily bad things; but there’d better be something better than your personal testimony, because to be honest, your experience, and your understanding, and your own personal faith are not really all that impressive. Do you know how many people avoid church just because of the testimony of Christians? Do you get what I’m saying here?

Furthermore, personal testimonies tend to change with the circumstances. I’m not talking about the rehearsed speech you may have about the day you went forward at a rock concert- I’m talking about your current, ongoing Christian experience. It may be okay today, but what about next week? What happens with life turns upside-down, and your “fruit” sours, or your faith waivers, or depression hits? It happens, people!

A “personal” testimony – the natural result of a “personal” religion – is faulty because your testimony and your religion are not founded on Jesus; it’s all based on you and your perceptions, and often what you want to believe. Our experiences and our perceptions are just not very reliable. To say, “I believe this because I experienced that” may work in this culture, where personal experience is paramount. However, personal experience is not an adequate foundation.

In this culture, we tend to think we can have the kind of religion that we want. However, it doesn’t matter what kind of God you want to worship. It doesn’t matter if you happen to choose to believe in a pre-trib rapture or in a 10,000% return on your tithe (yeah, I heard that guaranteed on TBN last week). It doesn’t matter what kind of experience you want with your religion. It doesn’t matter if you want to believe in a pacifist God, or in a judgmental, finger-pointing God. God never asked you what kind of a God you wanted…

That same preacher who guaranteed the amazing return on your giving (only if you sent it to him, though) also said something quite profound: “If something is true, it’s true for everybody.” Bingo!

What I’m not saying

I am not saying that there is anything wrong with having a personal connection with God, a personal experience of God, a warm feeling in your heart, or whatever. There is definitely to be a personal aspect to our relationship with God, including some kind of personal experience. In his various letters, Paul seems to assume that people do have some kind of personal experience when they receive the Holy Spirit, and in Galatians 3, he asks that they think back: “Did you receive the Holy Spirit by obeying the law, or because you believed?” It’s good, it’s fine, it’s a normal Christian experience.

What I am saying

However, my point remains: you can’t base your Christianity just on your experience, or just on your own testimony. There’s something better. When your life is in crisis or your faith comes under attack, you need something a bit more solid than, “well, I believed (or felt, or experienced) that once.”

You need God’s testimony. That’s why the Bible is so important. Way back in Genesis, God kept reminding people of His testimony: “I am the God who …” Read through the Gospel of John; the whole focus of the book is to present God’s testimony of who Jesus is, and why he came. (The other books in the Bible do the same thing.)

What you want, what you believe, and what you’ve experienced, is largely immaterial. The demons believe, Hindus have experience. What God believes is critical.

Would you like to know my personal testimony? “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God …”

Written on 02 May 2006 by me under Church, My Own Personal Religion, Spiritual stuff with 10 Comments

Finding Faith

Has someone taken your faith?
Its real, the pain you feel
The life, the love, you die to heal
The hope that starts, the broken hearts
You trust, you must confess
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best,
The best of you?
(Foo Fighters – Best of You)

Jesus said to him, “If you can believe, all things are possible to him who believes.” Immediately the father of the child cried out and said with tears, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!” Mark 9:23, 24

This is more or less a continuation of yesterday’s “Stripping down faith,” which I guess could all fall under the general heading of “Random Thoughts on Faith.” Perhaps I’ll start a new category…

I know people who, in the process of deconstructing or stripping down their belief system, either found at the end of the process that they had no faith, or perhaps found that their faith – the proverbial “baby” – had gone out with the bathwater. (or, in the famous words of Elaine from Seinfeld (spoken in a bad Aussie accent), “Maybe the dingos ate your baby.” (no, don’t ask me what it means – I’ve never figured it out.) As I’ve said before, I suspect that many atheists are not atheists at all – just disillusioned believers.

Finding faith, however, is the goal. There is a reason to believe (which reminds me of the old Rod Stewart song, which I may refer to later), though I completely understand why so many people, when they begin to lose faith in the various religious illusionary systems, also lose their faith in faith.

Jesus warned of this “baby and the bathwater” effect in Matthew 13, in his parable of the wheat and the tares. “Don’t pull the weeds,” the farmer in the parable states, “because while you are pulling the weeds, you may root up the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest.”

As I said, deconstructing your faith is a dangerous undertaking. Sometimes, however, it happens when illusions fail. The job then is to find faith, which is sometimes hard. In fact, proponents of the illusionary systems may actually oppose finding faith outside of the system, because they cannot separate faith in God from faith in the system.

Has someone taken your faith? Is someone getting the best of you?

All religious systems have “issues” that we have to put up with “until the harvest.” However, that’s not to say that we have to either like or support the system – we don’t have to feed the weeds, or protect the weeds, if it’s possible to avoid doing so without holding back from the wheat. And, we certainly aren’t stopped from vocalizing how much we hate the weeds…

Now, back to “Reason to Believe:”

If I listened long enough to you
I’d find a way to believe that it’s all true
Knowing that you lied straight-faced while I cried
Still I look to find a reason to believe.

Often when dealing with the church and religious systems (any group becomes such a system, given time), we recognize that we have, to some extent, been lied to, misdirected, or just plain messed up. The system often “gets the best of us” (sorry, reference back to the Foo Fighters). Still, we look to find that reason to believe.

Finding faith, preserving faith, growing faith – that’s our goal. If stripping down our faith helps, so much the better. But, our faith cannot depend on our being able to clear out the weeds – then we are indeed in trouble. Then, we are again putting faith in externals.

One way of looking at the Matthew 13 parable is this: every stalk of wheat is a reason to believe, a basis for faith. The presence of weeds doesn’t change anything, unless you require a weed-free field in order to believe. If that’s what you’re looking for, stick around till the harvest – but, I’m not sure you’d want to wait that long.

Written on 09 March 2006 by me under Spiritual stuff with 5 Comments

Stripping down faith

So I guess the fortune-teller’s right
Should have seen just what was there and not some holy light
To crawl beneath my veins and now
I don’t care, I have no luck, I don’t miss it all that much
There’s just so many things that I can’t touch, I’m torn
I’m all out of faith, this is how I feel
I’m cold and I am shamed lying naked on the floor
Illusion never changed into something real
I’m wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn
You’re a little late, I’m already torn.
(Natalie Imbruglia – Torn)

Deconstructing or stripping down one’s faith is not something to be taken lightly; it’s at best a very delicate process, dumping the bathwater and trying to hang on to the baby. At worst case, you find that your faith is without foundation (in other words, all you ever had was bathwater). However, it’s probably best to find this out now, rather than later, so we aren’t surprised with “Do I know you?” on judgment day.

Stripping down your faith can also make you feel completely out of place in a typical American Christian environment, especially those which place a lot of emphasis on externals.

Jesus said, “Do not rejoice that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven” (Luke 10:20). Consider this: remove power over spirits, remove tithing (and the promise of a return on your investment), remove healing, remove all of the “how to be successful Christian” teachings, remove all of the externals – and can you rejoice? Is it possible to not just be satisfied, but to rejoice in just your salvation? Is Jesus enough?

Stripping down your faith means doing away with virtual reality systems, aka illusions, and finding out what’s really real. I really like these lines from “Torn”: Illusion never changed into something real. I’m wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn. That’s not to say that the externals are illusions – I’m not saying that at all. But, sometimes they’re so caught up in illusionary systems that you can’t tell what’s what.

Stripping down faith is not the same as losing faith – although it can look like it at times to people who can’t get past rejoicing that they have power over spirits (metaphorically speaking).

But, rejoicing in your salvation is a very cool thing.

Written on 08 March 2006 by me under Spiritual stuff with 2 Comments

The truth about pruning

You’ve probably heard at least one sermon or read at least one book on spiritual growth which refers to us being “pruned” by God, usually in reference to John 15:1-2, “I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.”

PruningI know next to nothing about pruning trees. (I know Jesus was referring to grapevines, not trees, but I think my tree analogy will work. I know nothing about pruning grapevines, either.) I know to trim off “shooters” that do nothing but sap energy from the “good” branches, and that dead branches can be removed. But other than that, you wouldn’t want me close to any of your trees. I have a number of trees on my property, but no fruit-bearing varieties. Any pruning we do is simply for aesthetics; that is, we want our trees to look nice. Branches are trimmed so the trees will “fill out,” and branches that go off in weird directions will be snipped for that reason. One commentary that I saw on John 15 said that God’s pruning process was designed to make us “look more like Jesus.” So, you can understand why my assumption (although to be honest, before now I never really thought that much about it) was that the more we are pruned, the better we will look.

For many years we had lived in the middle of suburban San Diego, in a development of nearly identical tract homes with very few mature trees. Five years ago we moved to Oregon, which is pretty much just a huge forest with a few clearings where people can live. We live one block from the edge of town, and right across the street from the city limits are some peach and cherry orchards, which I would drive by every day on my way to and from work. One day a couple of years ago, I was shocked at the aftermath of an apparent pruning: there were huge piles of branches on the ground below the trees, so much so that it seemed the poor trees had no branches left. I wish I had taken a photograph of it, but by the time I thought to go back with my camera, the debris had been removed, leaving just the poor naked trees to wait for leaves and new growth.

This year, another pruning has taken place in the orchard around the corner; not as drastic as that first year, but enough so that a couple of days ago I walked over and took some photos. As I stood looking for the best angle, I had an epiphany: Weirdscape Pruning makes you ugly, not better-looking. I stood looking at the freshly-pruned trees, which were obviously the most mature of the trees in the orchard from their size, thinking that they could have been models for the Headless Horseman’s tree in Tim Burton’s Sleepy Hollow. They were gnarled and scarred, and no longer had the same natural beauty and symmetry that younger trees on either side had. If my hunch is correct, it’s only a matter of time before the younger trees, too, will be pruned to the point of ugliness, for the sake of better (and more) fruit.Pruning the Orchard

Pruning makes you ugly – I had never stopped to think about that before (and don’t recall this ever being preached on – chances are it’s not a popular sermon topic, and not one that’s apt to make visitors return to your church). Obviously, the point of this kind of pruning is the fruit, not the beauty of the tree.

Now for the deep spiritual insight that you’ve all been expecting: How many times do we look at ourselves and get disappointed at our ugliness? Unless, of course, you’re a guy who sees it as rugged good looks. But seriously, don’t we look at our scars and our gnarled and sometimes missing limbs, and start to think that God’s somehow forgotten to heal us? I think we forget that “looking good” – one of my few life-long goals – is not the point. We judge ourselves, and others, on meaningless things like symmetry and lack of what we consider to be defects. But, God’s job is to prune us, and pruning ruins all of that. Everything we think is fine, gets damaged or removed. What God knows is that a fruit tree’s only real asset is its ability to produce fruit, and therefore a scar is a beautiful thing.

Written on 27 January 2006 by me under Spiritual stuff with No Comments

Final thoughts on Eldredge

A few weeks ago I started writing some thoughts about John Eldredge’s Waking the Dead. Well, I’ve finally finished the book, and while I still think my criticisms are valid, my overall conclusion is that this is a very important book that many, many people should read, in spite of its faults.

This is why I think the book is so important:

  • His emphasis on the goodness of the Christian’s heart. While there are thousands of people out there who will tell you that the heart of man is evil, polluted by original sin and only good for the trash heap (that old “total depravity” thing), there are very few who dare to tell the truth: that we have been made righteous, that we are “whiter than snow” and that our heart is good, and that it matters to God.

    Everyone needs to hear this. Not just hear it, but know it, deep down in our hearts, so we can tell the enemy and those who bought in to the lie to “go [fill in the blank as you see fit].”

  • The truth that the real battle is simply the one for your heart. It’s that important.
  • His emphasis on the need for real community, not just going to church and/or going to a leader-focused Bible study/home group. Eldredge lays out a good overview of what the church should be like, but usually isn’t. I get a little tired of his “band of brothers” analogies, but bottom line is that it’s true – church should be about people supporting each other and fighting for each other, not just a leader-led relationship.

This is very important stuff, and Eldredge has the kind of voice that can be heard in nearly all types of churches.

Now, there are still a couple of things that are not perfect with this book, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention them:

  • He needs to hook up with a good theologian. This book could have been so much better, had he done so. An example is his “Daily Prayer for Freedom:” His 2nd paragraph starts out, “I cover myself with your blood…” and he proceeds to ask the Holy Spirit to restore his union with God. How is this Biblical? How can I cover myself in Jesus’ blood? or do it again? And just why do I need to have my relationship with God restored daily? Did God leave overnight? I know, I know … Psalm 51, right? But, remember, that was Old Testament, pre-Jeremiah 31, pre Pentecost, etc., etc.

    You see, he’s missed a major truth about our position in Christ. Our faith is in one act of Jesus shedding his blood, and we need to remember that. It’s probably good to pray that we be reminded of that daily, but there’s nothing more for us to do, except to acknowledge what already exists. Okay, enough of that. If you have doubts, read Romans.

  • I am still unsure about his sense of urgency. Certainly there is a battle, certainly the devil is doing his lionish prowling, and so on. And, like I agreed with earlier, I know that there is a battle raging for my heart, and for your heart. That very fact makes me think, “don’t go messing with my heart!” This sense of urgency and peril and impending doom can really mess some (not all) people up.

    I have a little plaque hanging above my desk, that I’ve had for close to 30 years, that simply says, “In quietness and in confidence shall be your strength..” Let’s not lose our heads, or our hearts.

So, with these caveats, I heartily recommend this book. The issues I have mentioned are not faith-threatening, and certainly aren’t any worse than the many of the other things you’ve probably been taught. The good things in this book are valuable enough to overlook a few theological shortcomings.

Written on 03 January 2006 by me under Eldredge, Spiritual stuff with 4 Comments