Tag Archives for Jesus

The Kingdom is for Children

I’ve mentioned before that one of my favorite hymns is Children of the Heavenly Father, by Karolina W. Sandell-Berg:

Children of the Heavenly Father
Safely in His bosom gather
Nestling bird nor star in heaven
Such a refuge e’er was given

This hymn—as it should—echoes a prevalent theme in the Gospels: Jesus (and Heaven) is for children. Sitting in the pew with all of the adults, in my clip-on tie and shiny black shoes, it was always reassuring to hear Jesus say things like, “Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them (Luke 18:16).”

The story goes like this: People were bringing their children to Jesus, so that he could bless them. However, the disciples, in their well-intentioned cluelessness, began turning them away. I understand this, I really do. Kids can certainly be a bother, especially when we’re being selfish. The disciples were doing nothing that many other adults have done.

From W.C. Fields’ famous “Go away kid, you bother me” to “children should be seen and not heard,” it’s easy for kids to get the notion that they are 2nd class citizens. The adults drink coffee and discus religion and politics, while the children make too much noise and need too much assistance. If we’re being truthful, we must admit that children are a lot of work and can be very distracting. I suspect that often, Sunday School programs are set up for this very reason—to keep children occupied elsewhere—not because there’s a true desire to teach them anything (if you’ve ever read through Sunday School curriculums, you’ll have to agree with me—there’s not a lot of real meat in there).

However, here’s Jesus, telling the disciples, “don’t you dare send these children away, for the Kingdom belongs to them.” Serious? The Kingdom of Heaven is for children? Furthermore, he says, that adults must become as children in order to even enter the Kingdom. Whoa! Jesus just turns the whole social order, as it involves children, upside-down.

Another story, found the three synoptic Gospels, tells of Jesus teaching about the Kingdom. He picks out a child from the crowd, and again says,

“Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child, he is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me; but whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened round his neck and to be drowned in the depth of the sea” (Matt. 18:1-6).

I get the idea that children don’t necessarily need to be converted; that is, they believe in Jesus easily, and they seem to a fast track into the Kingdom. It is the adults who need to be converted from their adult thinking and attitudes. Fancy doctrines and theology are fine; however, real theology appears to be one which says simply, “I believe in Jesus.”

The Kingdom belongs to such as these.

  1. What did you believe as a child?  Why?
  2. How does one who has “matured” become as a little child?

So, what do you want from Christianity?

Here’s an interesting question: What do you want from Christianity?

A long time ago I heard someone describing becoming a Christian as an act of “enlightened self-interest,” where we are motivated by what we hope to get out of it rather than a commitment to serve God and others. Looking at the Gospels, it seems that Jesus never turned people away for wanting something from him; in fact, it was those who didn’t want anything from him that he turned away. Even Peter’s great statement of faith, “where else would we go? Only you have the words of life” (John 6:68), speaks of Peter’s need for these words of life. So, this enlightened self-interest does not appear to be a bad thing.

Considering this, plus the fact that Christianity has, at least for many people in the west, become a consumerist endeavor—one in which we pick churches and even religions on what we perceive we need—then the obvious question becomes, “what do you want from Christianity?”

In answering this question, we could go a number of different ways. However, reflecting on Paul’s letter to the Galatians, there are two primary responses: a life under the law, with a list of requirements to fulfill, or a life of freedom. Many people, for a number of different psychological and bad theological reasons, choose a life under the law. A relative few, it seems, choose a life of freedom.

Two Gates

In Matthew 7:13-14, Jesus says

“Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.”

Almost never do you hear this verse taught in the larger context of what Jesus is saying in Matthew chapter 7. He starts off by saying, “Don’t judge others.” Then, he speaks of the Father giving his children good gifts, merely for the asking, and teaches them what we know as the Golden Rule: treat others like you’d like to be treated back “for this sums up the law.” Immediately following verses 13 & 14, Jesus talks about false prophets, and how to recognize them by their fruit.

It seems here that Jesus is trying to teach his disciples a different way from that of the law; we don’t get by working, we get by asking. Good trees naturally produce good fruit. Take the narrow road, not the widely traveled one.

Works, or grace?

I’ve always heard the explanation of the two paths as “choose holiness, not sin,” and yes, there’s something to be said for that, even though this does not seem to be Jesus’ emphasis here. Paul says we were set free not to sin, but to live in freedom, which is not to sin.

But, which gate leads to a life of works-righteousness, and which is the gateway to freedom and grace? Is it possible that we’ve confused our gates?

If Paul’s thinking accurately represents the Gospel as Jesus intended it (which I believe it does), then what leads to destruction is relying on ourselves, and what leads to live is receiving grace as a gift—which seems to follow Jesus’ line of thinking in the prior verses.

The Question

So, the question remains: What really do you want from Christianity, a life of self-reliance and works-righteousness, or a life of freedom that comes from grace?

When God Ran

My former pastor and continued friend, Ken Blue, calls the parable of the Prodigal Son The Greatest Story Ever Told. I am guessing that of all of Jesus’ parables, this one — found only in the Gospel of Luke (15:11-32) — has to be the most well-known. I knew is well as a child, hearing it in Sunday School as well as in church, both as the Gospel reading for the day and as a few sermon topics.

It is a truly great story. It has everything (except for a love interested): family issues, a great deal of sin, inner conflict, sibling rivalry, a change of heart, and a happy ending. (Well, sort of — the elder son still has issues at the end of the story, and as I’ll deal with in an upcoming post, it’s up to the audience to determine how that resolves.)

As with most people (as is obvious from the popular title of the story) as a child I was focused on the younger, prodigal son. The prodigal is the obvious focus, as this is who we follow in the story; we really don’t know much about what the Father and the good son were up to while the prodigal sowed his wild oats.

The story begins like an old Vaudeville joke; imagine George Burns: “A man had two sons…” Jesus, of course, was a great storyteller, and no doubt had the crowd’s undivided attention as he began (actually, this is the third in a series of three stories about the recovery of something presumed lost).

The younger son, according to Jewish law, would get a lesser portion of the inheritance when the father died. Rather than wait around for this, and obviously not placing any value in his relationship with his father, requests his share of the inheritance now. Essentially, he says, “Our relationship is as good as dead now, so let’s quit pretending.”  The father, rather than just kicking him out into the cold, agrees to the son’s demand.

The prodigal takes off and starts to party. He breaks as many commandments as he can, until suddenly he finds himself stung out, broke, homeless and hungry. He’s got a part time job feeding pigs, perhaps the worst job a good Jewish boy could imagine.

He realizes that there’s food back at his Father’s place, and he devises a plan. At this point, he still isn’t looking for relationship, nor is he looking for forgiveness. He just wants food. He knows his father’s business, and figures that his father may hire him on and let him sleep in the barn; at least he’ll be inside.

The amazing thing about this story is that if you read it a certain way, the prodigal remains a jerk throughout the story. As a child, I’m not sure I understood this part; in fact, most people don’t seem to. Most people imagine that some kind of repentance happened, that the prodigal’s “I am no longer worthy” speech indicates humility and that he is mourning the loss of relationship. However, the son’s speech could just be a clever attempt to diffuse his father’s presumed anger so he can make his pitch: “Hey, I know I blew it, so don’t preach at me. I’m not asking to rejoin the family, just let me be one of the day-laborers.”

I was a good kid, always afraid of getting in trouble or having my parents mad at me. I was, for the most part, Charlie Brown. I couldn’t really imagine why any son would act like the prodigal; that part of the story was a mystery to me. I understood, however, that the father in the story symbolized God, and that even if I did run off and do bad things, God would always be my father. He would never stop loving me, and it didn’t matter whether I was truly repentant or not; all that mattered was that I knew where my home was.

To some people, whether the prodigal really repented or not is of great importance. God will forgive you and welcome you back, but only if you’re really, sincerely sorry. Any attempt to scam God, and you’re out on your ear. You’ve got to really know that you’re a sinner, and that God by rights should be dangling you by your feet over the fires of Hell.  If you can manage to scrape together enough sincerity, God will turn back into the loving Father-God.

In truth, it doesn’t matter. Pay close attention to the father’s response — he doesn’t even listen to the prodigal’s speech! As soon as he sees his son, before he can even hear him, the father is running down the road to embrace and welcome his son home. It didn’t matter to the father why his son was coming home, only that he was within reach.

You see, the father never disowned the prodigal; the son may have wandered off, and he may have imagined that he was an orphan, but in reality he never lost his place in the family. We remain children of God by His love and grace, not ours.

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Rom. 8:38,39 NIV)

Questions:

  1. How have you viewed the son’s repentance? Have you ever considered whether the son was sincere or not?
  2. Have you ever identified with the prodigal?  If so, how did you view God’s attitude toward you?

My First Bible Memory Verse

I recall rehearsing for my first Christmas pageant, though I don’t recall the pageant itself.  I don’t have any idea how old I was, but I was possibly three or four. All of us in my Sunday school class had speaking parts; that is, one line Bible verses. We simply were to take turns walking up to the microphone, saying our line, and walking back to our seats. I was naturally quite nervous, and I can recall sitting on my bed while my parents helped me to rehearse my line, over and over:

“God loved us and sent His son. First John, four ten.”

Obviously my practicing worked, as I still remember it.  The full version is this:

This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. (NIV)

This verse, coincidentally, makes a point that I made previously: It is not our emotions concerning God that is important so much as knowing the truth that God – not just Jesus, but God the Father – loves us. Don’t get me wrong; it’s not inappropriate to display or vocalize our emotions. However, our emotions are capricious; they change quicker than the weather in Oregon and are, therefore, a notoriously bad gauge of truth. The fact that we feel love for God tells us absolutely nothing – the fact that God loves us tells us everything.

Many people have the mistaken belief that Jesus is the “good God” who loves us and the Father is the stern, hard to please God who is just one sin away from zapping us. In truth, while knowing the Father and the Son are separate persons within the Trinity (more on this later), the purposes and emotions of Jesus and the Father cannot be separated. As Jesus so aptly put it, “The Father and I are one. (John 10:30)” Jesus also said, “Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father. (John 14:9)” We know what the Father is like by knowing Jesus. When we see Jesus reaching out to children, the poor, the sick, and the sinners, we see the true heart of the Father.

This means that the God of the Old Testament – the one who obliterated Sodom – is the same God who is revealed to us in Jesus. How can this be? The writer of Hebrews put it like this:

In the past God spoke to our forefathers through the prophets at many times and in various ways, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, and through whom he made the universe. The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of his being, sustaining all things by his powerful word. (Heb. 1:1-3a)

In the Old Testament, God was revealed through men. In the New, we finally see the “exact representation” of the God of the Old Testament. As the New Century Version puts it, Jesus “shows exactly what God is like.” If we know God’s love as expressed in Jesus, we can then begin to see that same God in the Old Testament. Really.

Putting it another way,  reading the Old Testament is like looking at God through a dirty, distorted piece of old glass. Seeing Jesus in the Gospels provided an unobstructed view of God as he really is, a God motivated by love, compassion and grace. If we are shown two photographs of the same person – one faded, dirty, and blurry, and the other in high resolution color – which one would best tell us what the person looks like? There may be some details in the faded photo that are missing in the good one, but first we’d see what the good photo shows us and then look for that person in the old photo. We should start with what is clear, and then use that to understand what is unclear.

What is clear about God is, as my first Bible memory verse said, “God loved us, and sent His son.”

Questions:

  1. What is the first Bible verse that you memorized? At what age?
  2. What has been your image of God, as expressed in the Old Testament?

Historical evidence for the Bethlehem census story

Weekend Fisher writes today concerning some historical evidence for the story – often written off as mere myth – that Jesus was born in Bethlehem as a result of a census.   Apparently, as no Roman documents exist from that period, that there is no record of such a census.  However, some interesting documents exist from the 2nd and early 3rd centuries that refer to such tax/census documents.  He writes:

Justin Martyr, attempting to persuade the Roman government to stop persecuting Christians, refers the Romans to their own tax registers to verify Jesus’ birth. After mentioning the prophecy of the Messiah’s birth in Bethlehem he continues:

Now there is a village in the land of the Jews, thirty-five stadia from Jerusalem, in which Jesus Christ was born, as you can ascertain also from the registers of the taxing made under Cyrenius, your first procurator in Judæa.- Justin Martyr, First Apology XXXIV (circa 150-155 A.D.)

Tertullian makes a similar reference approx. 50 years later, indicating that Jesus’ birth was recorded in the documents kept in the archives in Rome, essentially challenging doubters to go look it up.

Of course, naysayers will respond that these 2 could simply have been bluffing, although I doubt they could provide any proof that either Tertullian or Justin Martyr had a tendency to make stuff up.  Historically, these references – if related to nearly any other issue – would be given serious consideration.

At this point, it would seem that there is no reason whatsoever to doubt this portion of the story.  And, this provides another example of why it is important to pay attention to the writings of the early church.

Did Jesus repudiate Old Testament violence?

I tend to like Greg Boyd, even if his “open” theology puts him in many people’s “heretic” column.  I have given away numerous copies of his Letters From a Skeptic (with a cautionary note about one reference to his “open” view of God) over the years, and still have a couple of copies on my shelf.

I think he has some interesting views, especially re pacifism, which is how he’s most well-known today.  Today, he writes,

What’s interesting is that Jesus himself repudiated the violence of the Old Testament — despite his belief that this collection of writings was inspired. Jesus taught, “You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also (Mt 5:38-39).

He points out that according to Moses, this “eye for an eye” practice was not optional:

Most interestingly, in Deuteronomy Moses goes so far as to stress that the law must not be waved aside out of compassion. “Show no pity,” the text says, “ life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot” (Deut 19:21). Yet, Jesus not only commands people to “show pity,” he replaces the Old Testament quid pro quo ethic with his radical ethic of unconditional love.

Interesting. Check out the whole article.

How to find God (… but I didn’t know he was lost?)

Following up on my last two posts which dealt with finding a place from which to properly discover and discuss who the God of Christianity really is, here is an exerpt from NT Wright, from The Meaning of Jesus – Two Visions (pp 214,215):

The key issue in all theology is how to speak truly of God. If we are to speak of something that transcends space and time, this is beyond our ordinar world, how do we know what we are talking about? How can we know whether we are talking sense, let alone true sense?  How can we be sure that we are not … merely projecting our own self-image or our authority-figure fantasies on to the cosmic stage and calling them “god”?  The mainstream Christian answer has always been that, though the one true God is in various ways beyond our imagination, let alone our knowledge, and though even such knowledge as we may have is beyond our own unaided power to attain, this God has not left us to speculate, imagine, or project our own fantasies onto the screeen of transcendence; this God instead, through self-revelation, has given us such knowledge as is possible and appropriate for us.  And the same mainstream Christian answer has gone on to say that this self- revelation has taken place supremely in Jesus, the crucified and risen messiah of Israel.

The whole point of such a claim is, of course, that the one true God is known in Jesus himself, the human being who lived, worked, and died in first-century Palestine. Take that away, or split the historical Jesus off from the Christ known in faith, as some have tried to do, and you are left without a revelation of the one true God within our own world, the world of physicality and history.

… by close attention to Jesus himself, we are invited to discover, perhaps for the first time, just who the creator and covenant God was and is all along.  (Italics are mine)

This passage strikes at the heart of many attempts to write-off Christianity as just another invented religion.  The key is in Jesus himself, the guy who we read about in the Gospels.  It is important, then, for those who don’t want to face this Jesus, to try to discredit history through bad – even dishonest – scholarship.  At least honest atheists have stopped trying to prove that the man Jesus didn’t exist, which proved to be just embarrassing.   Not only is it reasonably certain that the Jesus of the Gospels did in fact exist and was executed by Pilate, the evidence for the resurrection is compelling, to use Anthony Flew’s adjective.

If someone wants a revelation of God, here it is, in the 1st 4 books of the New Testament.  The 4 authors have their own viewpoint, as eyewitnesses and reporters always do, but contrary to Bart Ehrman’s foolish interpretations, the paint a remarkably whole picture of Jesus.

This, of course, brings us back to the issue of whether the Gospels are, in fact, inspired documents. However, even if we just look at them as any ancient text, they serve their purpose.  Christians do not (or should not) worship the Bible; it is, however, the Word of God – that which formerly was in oral form, reduced to writing.  However, our faith is based on Jesus himself, who continues to reveal himself to Christians today.

Atheists: Forget the Old Testament

In response to a recent post, Jeff Carter comments that atheists like Bart Ehrman and Creationists are alike in that they are both literalists.  He’s right – many atheists love to quote the Bible literally; (except when they are arguing it is not literal).  Fundamentalists, too, are literalists, and are suspicious of anyone who even thinks of using the word “metaphor” in connection with the Bible.  Another similarity is that both fundamentalists and many atheists are quite fond of quoting the OT.  I was actually shocked when I drifted from my Lutheran roots into what was then the “Jesus Movement” and then evangelicalism, because of the focus on the Old Testament.  I, of course, was taught all of the classic OT stories and Messianic prophecies, but most of Lutheran teaching is based on the New Testament, especially the Gospels.   I believe the Lutherans had it right; in fact, I would encourage both atheists and Christians to simply forget the Old Testament – at least for a while – when it comes to understanding God.

The author of Hebrews starts his letter so:

In the past God spoke to our forefathers through the prophets at many times and in various ways, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, and through whom he made the universe. The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of his being, sustaining all things by his powerful word.

Let’s unpack this: In the past – in the OT – God revealed himself through prophets, and so on.  However, God has now revealed himself through Jesus, who is “the exact representation of his being.”  The implication here is that Jesus revealed the character of God much better than the prophets and authors of the Old Testament. The OT, then, presents an imperfect picture of God.

Shocking as this thought might be, this is what the writer of Hebrews is saying.  The Old Testament revelation of God was imperfect.  The prophets may have gotten the message right, but did they really understand God?  (Have you ever read the Old Testament?)  If not inaccurate, the revelation of God was at least incomplete.  But now, finally, we have Jesus, who is the perfect, complete revelation of God.

But, Hebrews is 2nd hand info from an unknown author, and some of you may be wondering if perhaps Hebrews really belongs in the canon, after all…  So, let’s look at some of Jesus’ statements on this issue:

“You do not know me or my Father,” Jesus replied. “If you knew me, you would know my Father also.” John 8:19

“I and the Father are one.” John 10:30

“Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father.” John 14:9

“He who hates me hates my Father as well.” John 15:23

In the Gospel of John, we find a number of places where Jesus states quite clearly that he is essentially equivalent of God the Father (although he was clear that he was not the Father). To know Jesus is equivalent of knowing the Father; they are one, presumably in character and purpose.  He even goes so far to say that seeing Jesus is seeing God.  These statements make it clear that the writer of Hebrews didn’t just make stuff up; Jesus, too, understood that he was the perfect representation (the icon) of the Father.

Christianity, then, believes Jesus to be “everything you ever wanted to know about God, but were afraid to ask.”  But, what about the Hebrews author’s claim that Jesus is a better source for knowledge about God than the revelation in the Old Testament?  Jesus made a couple of rather startling comments, if you read them closely:

Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you really knew me, you would know my Father as well. From now on, you do know him and have seen him.” John 14:6, 7

“All things have been committed to me by my Father. No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal him. Matthew 11:27

No one comes to the Father, and no one knows the Father, except through Jesus.  If you want to know God, or know what God is like, who is your best source?  Abraham? Moses?  Jeremiah?  According to Jesus and Hebrews, none of the patriarchs or prophets had a direct revelation of the Father.  They had some revelation, to be sure.  But who do you think had a better revelation of God, Moses who saw God’s glory, or Peter?  Does the book of Isaiah paint a better picture of God, or the Gospel of John?   Did the Pharisees, who had nearly memorized the Old Testament, have a clear picture of God?  Obviously not.  If they didn’t, what makes you think you can have a clear picture of God by focusing on the Old Testament?

Atheists, like fundamentalists, love to focus on the Old Testament. In fact, I believe the reason for this is because the revelation of God in the OT is unclear.  But, hear this: forget the Old Testament. Leave it alone.  Ignore the laws, the prophecies, the violence – ignore all of it. Not because it’s ugly or embarrassing, but because it’s not a full picture of God.  Focus instead on Jesus.  If you have a problem with Christianity, it’s got to be with Jesus. I don’t care what you think of Genesis or the historicity of the Exodus.  I don’t care what you think of the laws or the violence.  If you want to understand who God is, read the Gospels.  If you have a problem with Jesus, fine.  If not, then do some reevaluating.

After you understand who God is, then and only then read the Old Testament. There’s lots of great stuff in there!  In fact, if you understand the character of God, you can find grace and mercy throughout the Old Testament.  Only then will it make sense.   When researching any topic, you always look first at your best source, to what is clear. Then, you can sort through what is unclear and put it in context.

Jesus, you see, is not the perfect representation of the God who has turned over a new leaf.  He’s not the image of the “good” God.  Jesus is the “spitting” image of the God of the Old Testament.  The thing is, none of the people in the Old Testament had that full revelation. In a very real sense, the Old Testament is incomplete; it’s a sketch, a caricature, an impressionist portrait of God.  Jesus, as revealed in the Gospels, is the full-color photo. Bottom-line: If you want to find God, you’ve got a choice: you can rely on an artist’s rendering or a photo.  You take your pick.

Review: “Jesus, Interrupted”

I was recently provided a review copy of Bart Ehrman’s latest book, Jesus, Interrupted.  I still don’t really understand how the title relates to the book, aside from Ehrman’s claim that the Gospel as we know it was not the gospel that Jesus preached.  His main point, however, seems to be that most pastors know that the Bible is full of mistakes and contradictions, but they continue to preach from it as if it were actually true.  This apparently makes Ehrman frustrated, so he’s taken it upon himself to reveal this scandal to the uninformed public.

Overall, Jesus, Interrupted is possibly the poorest example of scholarship I’ve read in years, if you could even use the word “scholarship” with regard to this book.  Hardly a page went by without my thinking, “Is he really that stupid?” or “Does he really think we’re that stupid?”  Once I even found myself saying out loud, “What an idiot.”  Time and time again Ehrman fails to see the plain meaning of Scriptural passages and repeatedly jumps to conclusion after conclusion, often without the need to make the jump.  It is also clear that if given the option of jumping in more than one direction, he will always jump left instead of right, even if left is an impossible jump.

I will say, however, that I do agree with Ehrman on a few points:

  • I do not believe that “inerrant” is a word that properly describes the Bible.  I know this will get me excluded from certain groups, but so be it.  I do believe the Bible is inspired by the Holy Spirit.  However, if you hold the Bible to a literal, inerrant standard, you run into problems.
  • A Christian’s faith should not be in the Bible.  We are to have faith in Jesus.  Putting one’s faith in something other than Jesus is not only idolatry, it leads to unnecessary faith crises.
  • The authors of the various books existed in a specific time and culture, and what they wrote needs to be understood in the author’s context.
  • Each Bible author must be allowed to have their say.
  • Historical criticism does not necessarily lead to a loss of faith.

Ehrman’s favorite fallacies

Rather than being a scholarly work, Jesus, Interrupted is mostly empty rhetoric, making use of various fallacious arguments.  One of his favorite fallacies is the appeal to false authority.  Besides setting himself up as the expert, I can’t count how many times he refers to “most scholars,” “many scholars,” and makes statements like, “well known among scholars,” and my favorite, “Scholars have known this for well over a century.” (p. 113)  He also makes reference to friends of his (which he does not name) who agree with him.   He also obviously holds himself out as an authority, as he makes many outlandish statements like, “In the early church, baptism was not performed on infants” (p. 127).

Another favorite fallacy of Ehrman’s is the argument from silence. If an author doesn’t specifically say that Jesus was God, he must not have believed it. Again, Ehrman would probably qualify for the Olympic conclusion-jumping team.

While one of Ehrman’s points is that “each author must be allowed to have their say” and they must be understood in context, he never really does either.  Instead, he suspects many of the authors of inventing or changing information in order to support their own agendas.  Those he charges with deception include Matthew, Luke and John, none of whom Ehrman believes were really who they say they were.

I also found the book frustrating in that either Ehrman is really quite obtuse, or he is being purposefully obfuscatory.  He seems to have problems understanding very basic points, and at times he goes well out of his way to take passages literally where there is no reason to do so.  For example, he states, “Matthew thinks that the followers of Jeus need to keep the law” (p. 89), and that Matthew believed that “salvation also requires keeping God’s laws.”  Anyone who has studied the Bible at all should be able to understand what Jesus was saying with regard to the law; but that wouldn’t have served Ehrman’s purpose.  He also has real difficulty interpreting the Old Testament, especially concerning prophecies relating to Jesus. And here again, he accuses the NT writers of making up facts to fit the OT prophecies.

His logic is generally circular, and sometimes so convoluted it’s hard to follow.  When nothing else works, he resorts to his claims that the documents were forgeries, or that the authors made up facts for their own, twisted agendas.

It is not my intent to refute in detail all of Ehrman’s claims; for that, I would have to write a whole book.  For a very good series of posts dealing with many of Ehrman’s claims, I would recommend Ben Witherington, or perhaps Ehrman’s interview with Stephen Colbert.

Obtusities

I just had to mention a couple of issues where Ehrman seems particularly obtuse.  He acts as though none of the 1st Century Christians ever spoke to each other. For example, he suggests that much of the birth story in Luke is made up, as no one was there. He fails to mention that Mary was, of course, present, and that she was no stranger to the disciples.  You don’t think Mary ever told anyone any stories of the old days?  In fact, I have no problem believing that the song of Mary as recorded by Luke was probably a song Mary wrote, and perhaps sang from time to time.  Again, these people did not exist in a vacuum.

Also, with regard to his theories about John not writing the Gospel of John, etc.  Here, he fails to mention that Polycarp was a student of John’s, who in turn taught Irenaeus, who wrote a number of commentaries on the Gospels as well as on Paul’s letters.  Don’t you think these people would have a bit of information about who wrote John’s Gospel? (But of course, Ehrman would accuse them of lying as well.)

My Ehrman-style conclusions

Using Ehrman’s style of reading intent into the Biblical authors, here’s what I think is really going on with Jesus, Interrupted:  Ehrman tells us that he starting doubting much of the Bible long before he became agnostic.  However, his bizarre logic and general lack of understanding would indicate that this is not merely an intellectual issue.  In fact, I think Ehrman is being intellectually dishonest.  It seems that Ehrman has chosen his beliefs, and is interpreting the Bible in such a way that supports his moral decision to disbelieve.  It is very common for those who turn away from Christianity to have a moral issue at the bottom of that decision. I don’t know what Ehrman’s issue is, but he does hint to it in the book (p. 273) with respect to the issue of suffering.

By the way, if you’re thinking, “he’s making this up… he doesn’t know anything about Ehrman’s life or his motives,” then I’ve made my point.

Recommendations

If someone really wants to understand more about the Bible and the issue Ehrman discusses, here are a few recommendations:

The Last Word, NT Wright

Jesus and the Eyewitnesses, Richard Baukham

The Meaning of Jesus, NT Wright and Marcus Borg

Atheist convert A.N. Wilson deconverts (back to Christianity)

Perhaps one of the more famous Christians-turned-atheist is author A.N. Wilson, who wrote biographies of people like C.S. Lewis & Tolstoy, as well as the “demythologizing” Jesus: A Life.   In this morning’s Mail Online, he writes,

For much of my life, I, too, have been one of those who did not believe. It was in my young manhood that I began to wonder how much of the Easter story I accepted, and in my 30s I lost any religious belief whatsoever.

Like many people who lost faith, I felt anger with myself for having been ‘conned’ by such a story. I began to rail against Christianity, and wrote a book, entitled Jesus, which endeavoured to establish that he had been no more than a messianic prophet who had well and truly failed, and died.

Why did I, along with so many others, become so dismissive of Christianity?

He blames the anti-Christian attitudes of Britain for much of his loss of faith, which “lends weight to the fervour of the anti-God fanatics, such as the writer Christopher Hitchens and the geneticist Richard Dawkins, who think all the evil in the world is actually caused by religion.”  He discusses some of these attitudes, then writes,

For ten or 15 of my middle years, I, too, was one of the mockers. But, as time passed, I found myself going back to church, although at first only as a fellow traveller with the believers, not as one who shared the faith that Jesus had truly risen from the grave. Some time over the past five or six years – I could not tell you exactly when – I found that I had changed.

When I took part in the procession last Sunday and heard the Gospel being chanted, I assented to it with complete simplicity.

He then goes on to explain in part why he began to once again believe – and it is not perhaps what you would think, unless you understood the true nature of Christianity, as celebrated in Easter.  He concludes the article with

Materialist atheism says we are just a collection of chemicals. It has no answer whatsoever to the question of how we should be capable of love or heroism or poetry if we are simply animated pieces of meat.

The Resurrection, which proclaims that matter and spirit are mysteriously conjoined, is the ultimate key to who we are. It confronts us with an extraordinarily haunting story.

J. S. Bach believed the story, and set it to music. Most of the greatest writers and thinkers of the past 1,500 years have believed it.

But an even stronger argument is the way that Christian faith transforms individual lives – the lives of the men and women with whom you mingle on a daily basis, the man, woman or child next to you in church tomorrow morning.

Christ is risen indeed!  There is hope; but then, some of us already knew that.