MENU

Wisdom
Category

On October 20, 2015 By In Books, Culture, Theology, Wisdom

The Redemption of Friendship

 

I’m always happy to read a book on friendship (just this year, I was immensely helped by Wesley Hill’s wonderful new book on the subject). However, it’s especially fun to read a book on friendship written by a really good friend (it’s like reading a book on blood draining by your favorite butcher!). In Friendship Redeemed, my comrade Adam Holland has written a fine work on a subject that desperately needs more thoughtful reflection. I think anyone who picks up the book will take away a number of very helpful insights. Particularly, the book will give you (1) a lens through which to view friendship, (2) examples of what redeemed friendship looks like, and (3) practical tips for living out redeemed friendship.

To begin with, Holland offers a lens through which to view friendship:

“Fixing our relationships with one another is not going to be resolved by a 10-step program or adding just a couple things. Living in this new humanity calls for a person to put on a new pair of glasses, through which he will look and see the world.”

The first chapter is simply an examination of friendship through the lens of the biblical story: creation, fall, redemption. We were created to have friends:

 “Mankind was created in the image of the triune God. We were created to live in harmony or perfect unity with one another.”

Holland doesn’t just start in the beginning, he starts before the beginning, grounding our friendship in the triune nature of God. Of course, he quickly shows how that communal nature of man is broken:

 “Man learns how to interact with one another through how they interact and relate to God. Once man sins by refusing to listen and obey the word of God, it then impacts man’s relationship with one another.” He then goes onto say, “When our vertical relationship with the Lord is not right, it has ramifications into our horizontal relationships with one another.”

As you might guess by the title, the rest of the book shows how friendship is being redeemed under Christ’s reign. Perhaps the whole book is best captured in the following sentence, “Christ’s death makes reconciliation possible not only with God, but also with one another.” For Holland, the biblical story isn’t simply head knowledge, something to be tucked away for Bible-trivia night. No, the gospel changes things, it redeems. At the end of the book, you’ll see how the biblical story invites you to participate, to pick up the script of the gospel and engage in the drama of redemption.

The second thing you’ll take away from the book are examples of what friendship actually looks like. Particularly, you’ll see what friendships looks like in the life of Paul. Holland justifies his use of examples in the following way:

 “If we truly want to fix our relationships and have our relationships fulfill their intended purpose, we need an example in which to look.  The famous agrarian and short story writer Wendell Berry once said, ‘It is not from ourselves that we learn to be better than we are.’  We need an example to demonstrate to us how to live. Imagine that you never saw a football game in your entire life. It would not be likely that you would ever become a football player. Imagine now that you had Peyton Manning come teach you about football and train you how to play the game. The chances of you growing in your knowledge and ability to play football would increase dramatically.”

In my mind, this is where the book really pays off! Many who grew up in evangelical circles have been burned by “exemplar” models of preaching. We were taught to identify with the hero of a given story, and left church knowing we were supposed to “try harder,” but not really knowing how. In reaction, the current emphasis is (rightly!) to see Jesus as the hero of every story. Once we understand that Christ is the “better David,” we’re then motivated to obey out of love and gratitude, not out of a folksy “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” mentality.

While this is all well and good, we must not become more biblical than the Bible. Or, as my mom might say, we shouldn’t be “too smart for our own britches.” The Bible is full of fallen, yet worthy characters who we are called to emulate (just read Hebrews 11!).

It’s not easy to apply character studies in a Christocentric way, yet that’s exactly what Holland does! From Tychicus, to Onesimus, to John Mark, to Epaphras, to Luke, to Demas, Holland shows how Paul’s various friendships can serve as a model, an example of how to live out gospel-centered friendship.

Lastly, you will take away various “tips” on how to live out redeemed friendships. While I didn’t do a verse count, I suspect there were more references from Proverbs than any other book. In fact, the whole book has a “proverbial” feel to it. Said differently, it drips with wisdom. As one example, take the theme of vulnerability. Below are three passages related to vulnerability which will give you a taste for the practical flavor of the whole book:

“Forgiveness within our friendships is not about righting the wrong, but it is about lavishly pouring out the love of Christ, even when it is at our own expense.”

“In Paul’s list here of his friends, he has two friends now that have abandoned him. How can you tell whether one of your friends is going to be a John Mark (a friend that leaves and comes back) or a Demas (a friend that leaves you and never returns)? You can’t! So, should we shut the door on any friendship in fear that they may abandon us or hurt us? No! Paul models for us how living on the other side of the cross calls for believers to take risks with others. Sometimes you are going to get hurt.”

“Paul’s life and ministry are a testimony to others willing to take a risk on him. Paul went from killing Christians to being one. I imagine that Christians were not lining up to have him over for dinner shortly after his conversion. Rather than being safe, take risks for the sake of the gospel. Rather than leaving the church because you have been hurt, stay and be an agent of change. You may get hurt along the way, but the joy of seeing others transformed will far outweigh any pain that you may receive.”

In the end, Holland has written a fresh, readable, biblical, winsome book on friendship. While I’d recommend it to anyone, I especially think it’d be useful in a small group setting.

Read more

On June 5, 2015 By In Culture, Family and Children, Theology, Wisdom

God Is Not Enough: The Story of Christian Community

Guest post by Pastor Rich Lusk

God pic

The story of Christian community begins, as every Christian story does, in the Garden of Eden. Adam was created in knowledge, righteousness, and holiness. He was created in perfect covenantal fellowship with the Triune Lord. No sin stood in the way of their communion, as the Creator and creature loved one another in fullness. Moreover, Adam didn’t have to earn anything; God had freely and graciously blessed him. He had all the privileges of divine sonship. The Lord had, in the most intimate way, breathed life into Adam, imparting his own Spirit to the first man (Gen. 2; cf. Jn. 20). The Lord gave him access to the Tree of Life and a fatherly warning to avoid the Tree of the Knowledge of Good Evil until the time was right. The Lord gave him meaningful labor, as he was to serve and guard the garden the Lord had planted for him. He had abundant food and a beautiful environment in which to live, worship, and play. All of creation was his, as God’s vice-regent. And yet, the Lord evaluated the situation at the mid-point of the sixth creation day and said “It is not good that man should be alone” (Gen. 2:18).

Alone?! Adam was emphatically not alone at his creation. He enjoyed friendship with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. He was the son of God. He was included in the Triune family. What more could he need? We’d expect the text to read, in harmony with the rest of Gen. 1-2, “And the Lord God said, ‘It is good for man to be with me, to have me as his friend.” But that’s not what the inspired narrative says.

Apparently Adam’s pre-fall communion with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit was not enough. God made man for more than fellowship with himself. To be complete, to be satisfied, to be fully realized as a creature made in God’s image, the man needed fellowship with other humans. He was not only created, as Augustine suggested, with a Trinity-shaped void in his heart that only the Father, Son, and Spirit could fill; he was also created with a human-shaped void that only other people could fill.

This is part of what it means to be made in God’s image. God is not a single individual. He is a community of three distinct persons, bound together in an absolute oneness of love and fellowship. For man to image this kind of God required a plurality of humans in fellowship with one another. An isolated individual is not a full image of the plural Godhead. Thus, God is not enough. People need other people to be complete. We were made for each other.

Because we are made in God’s image, God is the model for humanity. The Father, Son, and Spirit mutually indwell one another’s lives (Jn. 13-17). The theological term for this is “perichoresis.” “Peri” is Greek for “around.” We get the word “choreograph” from “choresis.” The idea is that the three persons of the Godhead “dance around” or “dance within” one another. Their lives are totally intertwined. They move in lockstep with one another because they abide within one another. But this is precisely how we are to live in Christian community. We are to open our lives to others so they can indwell us, but we are also to seek to “move into” the lives of others, abiding in them. In this kind of community, as we indwell one another and live “perichoretically,” we image the life of the Triune God.

Obviously, the claim “God is not enough” is hyperbolic. This should not be understood in an idolatrous fashion. Obviously, in an ultimate sense, God is enough for man. We can and must still speak of the absolute adequacy of God. It is God, after all, who provided all Adam’s needs. It is God who created Eve and gave her to Adam as the crown of his other gifts. God stands back of all Adam’s satisfaction and joy. It is God who ultimately completes Adam.

But our point here concerns God’s creation design. God designed humans to live in community with one another. This is part and parcel of what it means to be imago Dei. God made us in such a way that vertical fellowship with the divine would be insufficient; we also need horizontal fellowship with other humans. God did not just make us for himself, he made us for each other.

Or, to look at things from another angle, God made the world in such a way that his presence would be mediated from one human to another. God dealt directly with Adam, but for the most part God deals indirectly with us. He speaks to us, disciplines us, molds us, and so forth, though the agency of others. God works through means, especially the means of humans made in his image.

Community is inescapable. Each one of us comes into existence only because two other people “communed” (so to speak) in just the right way. After birth, we would perish in days, if not hours, if others did not care for us. We learn every social skill we possess (or don’t possess) from others – language, manners, games, proficiencies, etc. And this need for others is not something we outgrow. It is more obvious in the case of infants, but just as real in the case of adults. No man is an island and no man is self-sufficient.

Thus, the pessimistic dictum of existentialist philosopher Jean Paul Sartre, “Hell is other people,” is exactly backwards. Hell is the absence, not the presence, of other people. In fact, in hell, the wicked will be utterly alone, apart from an all-too-personal, all-too-close relationship with the God they utterly despise. Contrary to existentialism, other people do not stifle our freedom or get in the way of our self-actualization. Rather, it is precisely in community that we are free to find and be our true selves. We are not self-made, but God- and others-made.

Heaven and the new creation are precisely what Sartre dreaded, but in a form he could not imagine. Heaven is, as Jonathan Edwards put it, “a society of love.” It is not the absence of other people, but precisely their presence that makes heaven so heavenly. The saved community is marked out even in the present by this mutual love (Jn. 13). Our love for one another shows that the power of God’s new creation is already at work in the world. This love will be perfected in the resurrection.

Ultimately, salvation itself must be understood in communal terms. Just as sin wrecked our fellowship with God and with one another, so in redemption that fellowship is restored. Psalm 133 spells out the connection between salvation and community in beautiful, poetic terms. Brothers dwelling together in unity is likened to the precious anointing oil flowing down Aaron’s beard to the edge of his garment. The priest’s body and robe become symbolic of the oneness of the community. The body of the priest is now the body of Christ (cf. 1 Cor. 12). The oil – usually symbolic of the Spirit in Scripture – covers the body from head to toe. The psalmist goes on to compare fellowship among the redeemed to the refreshing dew of Hermon flowing down Mount Zion. This is an interesting picture, since Hermon was in northern Israel and Zion in the south. The Spirit, now symbolized by the dew, unites things disparate in space and even culture. The conclusion is remarkable: “For there the Lord commanded his blessing – life forevermore.” That is to say, eternal life takes the shape of community life. The structure of the psalm itself makes the point: Just as the inner sections of the psalm match (oil and dew, priests and mountains), so the outer sections match (brothers dwelling together in unity and eternal life).

The gospel, then, is irreducibly social. Liberals in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century used the label “social gospel” to refer to their program. They substituted salvation from poverty and ignorance through state-mandated welfare and educational programs for salvation from sin and damnation through the cross and Spirit. One theologian characterized the social gospel of liberalism as a God without wrath, bringing men without sin into a kingdom without judgment though a Christ without a cross. Obviously, that is a total distortion of the biblical teaching.

But in another sense, we could benefit from restoring and redeeming the label “social gospel.” The gospel is social through and through. Traditional Christian teaching claims that outside the church there is no ordinary possibility of salvation. That is to say, forgiveness from sin and incorporation into Christ’s body go hand in hand. Salvation includes a new status (justification) and a new community (the church).

Moreover, the whole Christian life can only be lived out in the context of the church community. The New Testament authors presuppose that followers of Christ will be discipled in the matrix of an ecclesial community (cf. Acts 2:42ff). Numerous apostolic commands only make sense in this light. For example, we are told to love one another, pray for one another, bear one another’s burdens, confess to one another, forgive one another, and so on. In other words, we’re to “one another one another.” But this can only happen in the environment of a church body. It can’t be done in isolation.

American Christians struggle with these things because of our heritage of individualism and dislike for authority (including church authority). Community means you give up some privacy, some of your rights. It means you sometimes have to accommodate yourself to things you wish could be done differently. You have to learn to “give a little,” and to be flexible. It means we have to learn that life together involves becoming vulnerable at times, admitting weaknesses and needs. It also means meeting needs and showing strength on behalf of others at times. Communal life means we are willing to submit to the brethren, especially those God has put in charge of us through ordained office.

But whatever the costs, it is imperative that we learn to live in community once again. We must learn to deal with our differences in a biblical manner (Phil. 2:1-11). We must learn to live under authority (Heb. 13:7, 17). We must learn work together on the common project of building God’s kingdom. We must learn to live as an organic body, in which every part of the community cares for every other part. We must learn what it means to be the communion of the saints, as we confess in the early church creeds. We must rediscover what it means to live shared lives of generosity, of mercy, of friendship, and of hospitality. Many of these virtues the ancient church excelled in have been lost on us.

American spirituality often treats church community as a “tacked on” extra to a personal relationship with Jesus. In other words, we often act as if God alone is enough, and other Christians were quite unnecessary. “Quiet times,” in which the individual gets alone with God, have replaced the church’s corporate gathering as the pinnacle of spiritual growth. But the Bible points us in a different direction. Remember Adam: life alone with God is not the divine plan for us. God alone is not enough, in a profound sense. We must live in fellowship as one body with other believers if we are to grow and mature as God’s people. As Augustine said, the essence of God’s plan for humanity is mutual fellowship with himself. We are called to share a common life with the Trinity and with one another.

So: Is God enough? Yes, we must insist that he is in an ultimate sense. God is our all in all. But how does God manifest his all-sufficiency towards us? Precisely through giving himself to us in one another. God meets our needs by giving us each other, and together we are called to mirror his life – the life of Triune, perichoretic community.

—

Rich Lusk has served as the Pastor of Trinity Presbyterian Church since December, 2004. Before that he served at Redeemer Presbyterian (PCA) in Austin, TX and Auburn Avenue Presbyterian (CREC) in Monroe, LA. He and his wife Jenny have four kids. Rich is a graduate of Auburn University (B. S. in Microbiology) and the University of Texas at Austin (M.A. in Philosophy). This article is used with permission, and originally appeared at the Trinity Presbyterian website.

Read more

On June 2, 2015 By In Theology, Wisdom, Worship

Choosing a Denomination for the Wrong Reasons

th

I recently had coffee with a friend who is seriously considering leaving one denomination for another. His reasons for seeking my advice had less to do with my wisdom and more to do with my experience. After growing up in a godly, Baptist home—after years of ministry in a healthy Southern Baptist Church—indeed, after graduating from an excellent Baptist college, I became a Presbyterian. To be sure, I left the SBC in a good mood. I wouldn’t trade my Baptist upbringing for the world, and I still reference my notes from Chad Brand’s Baptist History class on a regular basis—his brilliance is still awe-inspiring.  My transition from the SBC to the PCA felt more like a skip than a leap. Said differently, my conversion wasn’t motivated by any perceived weakness in the Baptist tradition. I left because of what I saw as the strengths of the Reformed tradition. This, I now believe, was a mistake.

Now, before you go questioning my Reformed bona fides, allow me to explain. I’m a committed Presbyterian. My denominational fate was sealed the moment I saw the most beautiful girl in the world wearing a shirt that read “Presbyterian!” God uses “means” to lead us, and sometimes those means wear perfume and have the whole of the Westminster Shorter Catechism memorized. In those cases, you marry the means! It was destiny—maybe even pre-destiny. But back to the point at hand, I’m a happy Presbyterian. I still hold to all of the theological positions and interpretations which motivated my realignment in the first place (and I’m still married to the beautiful Presbyterian!). What I believe was a mistake, looking back, was my optimism. I viewed the baptismal font as half-full, in other words. If I had it to do over again, I would have joined the PCA for her weaknesses, not her strengths.

If you only choose a denomination because of her “best practices,” you’ll always be disappointed. Calvin won’t be your Presbyter, Cranmer won’t be your Bishop, your church will likely not be on Wesley’s circuit. Joining a denomination because of her strengths has a way of making the convert somewhat grumpy. We view ourselves as second generation Israelites in exile, longing for a home we’ve never known. Depending on what you consider the “promised land,” the denomination is too rigid or too lax, too ingrown or too compromising, too modern or too post-modern, too traditional or too progressive. With this mindset, the pastor-brother who does things differently is viewed as a competitor at best, and mere rust on a ship at worst. Churches, further, are simply battle grounds to be won or obstacles to be overcome.

This “competitor” and “battle” mentality is the natural result of choosing a denomination based on “best practices.” After all, think of the theological cage fights which brought you to the denomination in the first place. The choice between Catholic and Protestant consisted of a 4th century theologian against a 16th century theologian. If the Protestant won, you then pitted representatives from various traditions against one another: Calvin v. Arminius, or Whitfield v. Wesley. All of this tussling and you still hadn’t landed on a denomination! Now you had to have Schaeffer v. Van Til, or Keller v. Hart, maybe. Each battle got more and more precise, moving from boxing matches, to basketball games, to chess tournaments.

Of course, the problem isn’t with the competitions themselves. If there is such a thing as “truth” it’s worth finding, and we shouldn’t expect to come to it without a busted lip or two. The problem is with the stakes of the fights: namely, denominational loyalty. If Keller beats Hart, you join the PCA instead of the OPC. However, there are people who sound more like Hart than Keller at General Assembly. Surely, this won’t do—after all, Keller won! Your job, then, is to reenact the “Keller v. Hart” match on the floor of GA and in the halls of your church. Again, in the mind of the arguer, the stakes are the same: denominational loyalty. The winner is “in” and the loser is “out.”

The alternative to choosing a denomination because of her “best practices” is choosing a denomination because of her “worst practices.” Then, your choice isn’t between “X 4th century theologian and Y 16th century theologian.” You can keep them both! Rather, you’ll decide between “X sin (praying to an icon, say) and Y sin (anemic view of the sacraments, say).” Choose the denomination because, at its worst, it still doesn’t command you to do something God forbids or forbid you from doing something God commands. Meticulously account for the “worst” in each denomination, all along the way asking: “can I live with this?”

If you can’t live with X in a denomination, then spare everyone the heartache and don’t join the denomination which consists of many who hold to X. However, if you’re able to live with the state of the denomination, even after evaluating what you perceive to be her “worst practices,” then by all means, join! This doesn’t mean you can’t debate serious theological issues with your brothers and sisters. It simply means that your brothers and sisters are just that, and neither the “winning” nor “losing” party will be excluded from the next family picture. 

My friend asked me to get coffee because he wanted advice. After much listening, I simply told him the following: view the baptismal font as half-empty. Sure, love the “best” that your tradition has to offer, but make sure your love is for the denomination you’re joining, not the one in your mind. After all, the utopian-denomination of your mind likely never existed in the first place! Don’t be so homesick for Eden that you fail to march on to the New Jerusalem. Make your peace with the church’s purity, and then do your best to preserve her purity and peace.

Read more

On January 26, 2015 By In Culture, Theology, Wisdom

Angel, Absurdism, and Faith (not the girl)

Angel absurdism (i.e. pushing absurdism on the TV show) relies on you missing the real absurdity.

Atheism tries to make sense by pretending that not making sense is a special virtue. You can see it especially clearly in the brief exchange below in which Joss Whedon mentions the story in Season 2, episode 16 of the TV show Angel, “Epiphany“:

YouTube – Joss Whedon: Atheist & Absurdist.

I used to love Whedon, who has now moved on to the Marvel Avenger franchise. His browncoat-betraying anti-Romney propaganda, in which he pretended all sorts of central-planet death myths like overpopulation were true, pretty much ended my positive feeling toward him. I confess I harbor a fantasy that he was offered the work with the Marvel movies by a mysterious figure who made him sign in blood.

angel kate

But I still think the exchange above is profitable to think about.

I have extreme skepticism about what Whedon claims he has suffered for his atheism. I also hate the hearing the word “faith” used for an opinion on God’s existence. Whether or not God is trustworthy is a matter of faith. Whether or not he exists has nothing to do with faith (and Hebrews doesn’t say otherwise).

But I’m posting this because I remember actually liking Angel’s slogan: “If what we do doesn’t matter; then all that matters is what we do.” And I feel really stupid for not seeing the irrationality of it immediately. Sometimes I think paradoxes give off the glint of hidden wisdom when they are just plain nonsense.

Angel’s conclusion at the end of Season 2 (or near the end) was that (to repeat) “If what we do doesn’t matter then all that matters is what we do.”

If what we do doesn’t matter, then anything might matter except what we do. You can’t draw the contradiction of a premise from that premise as if it followed as a conclusion from it.

Now that I’ve gotten that issue out of the way (in my own mind, at least), let me say why I think Whedon’s view appeals to people, especially to Christians.

Being able to evaluate and value one’s decisions and commitments without having knowledge of the eternal plan for them is a requirement for the human condition. It is set forth most starkly in the Bible in the book called Ecclesiastes.

So, I think the appeal is precisely because Whedon’s view is a close replica of the truth.

But I don’t think it works if there is no plan at all. (And claiming there is no plan seems to actually assert endless knowledge rather than humbly deny it. But that argument would be endless, so I’ll let it go.) It is one thing to make decisions and do your best without understanding why your circumstances exist or how you fit into a larger picture. But it is another to say that there is no picture.

To really act as Angel does actually requires faith. And that, in my opinion, is why Whedon had to include a miracle in his story. Viewers would have felt like there was no point without it.<>создание тур а

Read more

On January 14, 2015 By In Culture, Theology, Wisdom

How to be an Intellectually Faithful Freshman

class room

This week and next, colleges across the country will commence their Spring semester. Many students who grew up in Christian homes will consciously trade in their faith for a philosophical system antithetical to the one of their upbringing. Even more students, however, while not outright denying their Christian faith, will unconsciously adopt a philosophical system that is inherently idolatrous. It’s not that this second group wants to be idolaters; they simply lack the tools to discern the nature of the bill of goods their professor is selling them. So, how can one know if a given philosophical system (Kantianism, Marxism, Platonism, etc.) is idolatrous? One can begin by asking two questions. First, “is this logical?” Second, “is this sinful?” If the answer is “yes” to the first question, the answer will be “no” to the second question. If the answer is “no” to the first question, the answer will be “yes” to the second question. Here’s a story to illustrate the point:

On her twenty first birthday, Cindy was promised a night on the town with her girlfriends. After dinner, her friends came to her house in a limo, blindfolded her, and took her to Crazy Dave’s Casino (obviously, she had some pretty lame friends…). As they were getting into the limo, they shoved some bills in her purse and said “tonight’s on us!” Once inside, Cindy took off her blindfold. Because there was no signage on the inside of the building, Cindy still wasn’t sure where she was. Eventually, she saw a waitress and asked if she could get something to drink. As she pulled out her wallet to pay, she saw four hundred Crazy Dave’s Casino-Bucks in her purse.

Now, there are only two ways that Cindy could have deduced her location. First, she could have spotted a logo. While it’s true the big Crazy Dave’s sign was outside, there were actually logo’s on the slot machines, napkins, etc. Secondly, of course, she could’ve known by looking at the Crazy Dave’s Casino-Bucks. Her currency could’ve revealed to her the location. Likewise, her location could have told her what sort of currency her friends slipped into her purse. For Cindy to answer the question “am I at Casino Dave’s?” she’d have to look at her currency. For her to answer the question “what sort of currency do I have in my purse?” she’d have to look at the signage.

Back to our original question: how can one know if a given philosophical system is idolatrous? There are at least two ways: Firstly, you can look for signage. Here, you’re trying to determine if the system outrightly advertises itself as sinful. Put simply, this means asking a couple questions of the philosophical system. One question is, “does it enable me to do something God forbids?” Nihilism, for instance, enables one to tear down systems for “tearing’s” sake. Well, some systems need to be torn down, but we’re commanded to obey God’s rule. Any tearing, then, must not be for its own sake, but because we’re seeking a system patterned after the rule of God. Thus, we know Nihilism is idolatrous because it enables us to do something God forbids.  Another question to ask is, “does the system forbid me from doing something God commands?”  Animism, for instance, is idolatrous because it teaches that everything on the earth, indeed the earth itself, has a soul. Thus, I’m forbidden from, among other things, giving thanks to God. If “Mother Nature” is giving me food, my thanksgiving is directed to the object I’m eating rather than the One who gave me the object to eat. Like Cindy, you’re in a building (the Casino of Idolatry, if you will), and you’re looking for clues as to the nature of the structure.

Secondly, you can look at the currency in which the philosophical system deals. This is crucial because not all philosophical systems are easily detected as “sinful.” Like Cindy in the casino, there isn’t a big Crazy Dave’s sign, and the logos are quite small and inconspicuous. Thus, it won’t do to simply ask “am I in the Casino of Idolatry?” Rather, you’ll have to ask “am I using the currency of the Casino of Idolatry?” Well, what is the currency of idolatry? In a word, it’s illogicality. If the system is illogical, it is idolatrous. Idolatry is always making a deal in which you trade life for death; the family blessing for some soup. An idolatrous philosophical system never uses the currency of “logic.” Thus, one can ask the question, “Are the propositions which this philosophy proposes logical?” If the answer is “no!” then you can know the system is itself idolatrous.[1]

With a little deductive reasoning, one can find idolatry in any illogical statement. Likewise, one can find incoherence in any given expression of idolatry. In his long career, Vern Poythress has become an exemplar for how to do such deductive reasoning. In the quote below, Poythress does a wonderful job showing the inherent idolatry and incoherence of Kantian philosophy. While his remarks are limited to Kantianism, his deductive method can be applied to any philosophical system. Specifically, notice two things. First, he shows how Kantianism is illogical; it’s self-defeating. Its currency can only be spent “in-house,” as it were. In this way, Poythress is saying “look at your currency, it’ll tell you that you’re in the Casino of Idolatry.” Secondly, Poythress draws attention to the sinful signage of Kantianism. The system enables you to claim complete autonomy; rejecting any Creator-creature distinction. In this way, Poythress is saying “look at the sign, it’ll tell you that your currency can’t be logical!” Poythress is modeling for us the ways in which we can both analyze a given philosophical system, and consciously embrace our biblical faith. Says Poythress:

“…Kantian philosophy discusses everything under the sun, including God, including morality, including the nominal realm, and proceeds to tell us what we can and cannot expect to know about the noumenal realm, and why. An impressive scope, would you not say? A scope far larger than the scope that Kantian philosophy assigns as the limits of reason. Kantianism uses reason to build a system that sets the limits of reason. To do so, it has to survey the field. It has to transcend the phenomenal and look at the noumenal realm as well. It has to take a God’s-eye view. This view, once achieved, afterwards allows it to tell you and me the narrower limits in which our reason can safely operate.

The God’s-eye view is Kantianism’s secret, and simultaneously its weakest point. Kantianism is self-destructive. In its results, it tells us what are the limitations of reason. If we take those results seriously, we have to apply them to Kantianism’s own reasonings about philosophy. Those reasonings go beyond the limits, and so we conclude that they are not sound. And so the whole philosophy is unsound. And so the limits have not been established. And so we are back to the beginning. We have gotten nowhere. Except now we know not to follow Kantianism.

In addition, Kantian philosophy testifies unwittingly to the reality of human ability to transcend the immediate. We can stand back from the immediacy of experience and survey what we have been doing. And then we can stand back from that and survey the meaning of our more abstract mediations. We have the capacity… for a miniature transcendence, because our minds imitate the mind of God. We can imagine what it would be like to look at everything from God’s point of view.

But Kantian philosophy engages in this whole process of transcendence autonomously. By its act of attempting transcendence, it testifies to God who made the human mind. By its autonomy, it defies God’s instruction in Scripture and refuses to give him thanks (Rom. 1:21). Not only that, but in effect it tries to be God. Having achieved what it hopes is a godlike transcendence, it can then dictate as a god what limits we poor mortals must have for our reasoning.

In a sense, the Kantian philosophers are the godlike beings, because they can dictate to poor mortals the limits of their experience and their reason. But in another sense Kantianism allows all human beings to be godlike. Each of us becomes in his own person a kind of godlike creator of the world. We ‘create’ the whole world of phenomena, including all the structures of time and space and causality and logic and reason, by imposing structure through our mental categories. We become gods. Can you see how such a conception has a covert religious appeal for people—really all of us in our sinfulness—who desire autonomy?”[2]


[1] One may ask, “but if a system is illogical, why would anyone believe it?” After all, the professors don’t seem to be play-acting; they really believe in Marxism, etc. The short answer is that they grew up in the Casino of Idolatry. They’ve never been outside, to the real world, and thus they dismiss a dollar bill as “fake,” but hold on to the Casino-Bucks for dear life! Their logic, in other words, is self-referential. It only works in their personal Casino of Idolatry. To know what logic *is* one must venture outside of the casino, to the great (real!) world God has designed.  

[2] Poythress, Vern S. Logic: A God-Centered Approach to the Foundation of Western Thought. Wheaton, Ill: Crossway, 2013; 637-638

<>games rpgраскрутка а магазина

Read more

On December 19, 2014 By In Culture, Wisdom

Decorating The Body

As we approach the Christmas season, people all over the world are decking halls with holly branches and donning gay apparel. Trees, lights, nativity sets, snowmen, St. Nicks, and reindeer are symbols that tell the story of Christ’s birth. It is truly good, right, and beneficial to decorate our property in this way. The very nature of humanity is symbolic, as we are created in the image of God (Gen. 1:27). Everything we think, say, or do is symbolic in some sense. It shouldn’t be a surprise that we are decorative people. Christians have a rich tradition of symbolism tracing back to our Israelite fathers, the flood, the garden of Eden, and even to the six days of creation. Symbols beget symbols. We create images and make associations with them. This is what God does, and we mimic him.

When it comes to body art, however, controversy arises. Tattoos and piercings are common in the broader culture and have become quite acceptable within the church, too. But you still hear claims that they are sinful, childish, and narcissistic. Most of the arguments are genetic fallacies, guilt-by-associations, hasty generalizations, and appeals to fear or consequence. These arguments may express valid concerns but they fail to prove anything objective. Neither do they address the biblical data. Similarly, arguments in defense of body art often lack biblical scholarship. How then should we approach this topic? (more…)

Read more

On September 8, 2014 By In Wisdom

How to Confront Deep Sin within the Church

Helping HandHow should we counsel believers who are needing to come out of deep sin? We should treat them as if “God in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession.” That is, with believers, we should believe them to be believers as we seek to shed light on their disobedience. Of course, more complicated scenarios arise when a hard heart and rebellion are revealed as unyielding to gracious pastoral help; but here, I am seeking to address the simple situation of confronting a sin for the first time. Paul teaches us about this.

If you read Paul’s handling of the sins of Corinth, according to 2 Corinthians, you will find these kinds of encouragements growing out of the text:

– Confront sin with love, even if the confrontation will be painful. (2 Cor 2.4)

– Remind them that God has done a good work in them already (2 Cor 7.1)

– Do not regret the pain that happens in the loving truth of the process. That is, don’t avoid the process out of fear of the pain. (2 Cor 7.10)

– As they repent, and after they repent. show them that this very repentance is a vision of God’s powerful work in their lives, one that gives hope. (2 Cor 7.12)

– Rejoice with them in their repentance. (2 Cor 7.7,9,13,16)

– Expect that bringing scripture and church ministry to bear against sin will sniff out the life or death of the one confronted (2 Cor 2.14-16)

This all comes out of Paul’s interaction with the Corinthian church, a ministry that was established well, where the people were full of faith and knowledge and zeal. They had been eager to help in the support of other churches, and had responded well to the word and wonders of the apostles the first time around.

And yet, in Paul’s absence, they had some committing acts of sexual immorality, and so he had written them with stern words about the truth concerning their error.

For even if I made you grieve with my letter, I do not regret it—though I did regret it, for I see that that letter grieved you, though only for a while. 9 As it is, I rejoice, not because you were grieved, but because you were grieved into repenting. For you felt a godly grief, so that you suffered no loss through us.

10 For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death. 11 For see what earnestness this godly grief has produced in you, but also what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation, what fear, what longing, what zeal, what punishment! At every point you have proved yourselves innocent in the matter. 12 So although I wrote to you, it was not for the sake of the one who did the wrong, nor for the sake of the one who suffered the wrong, but in order that your earnestness for us might be revealed to you in the sight of God. 13 Therefore we are comforted.

(2 Corinthians 7.8-13)

 

Show Them Their Own Salvation – Show Them The Spirit at Work

I find it fascinating that Paul’s confrontation was given in order to reveal to the Corinthians their own continuing earnestness for the apostles. This means that he knows they will repent and end up seeing just how much love they do have for the word of God and the New Covenant ministry coming from the hands of the apostles.

This means further that when they are in deep sin, he confronts them with the confidence that they are honest-to-goodness Christians who are caught in sin. So he goes into the ministry of confrontation with all hope that they can indeed recover to repentance.

Triumphant Hope

In fact let us have hope in the ministry of reconciliation because as Paul says,

“…Thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere,” (2 Cor 2.14). We are not merely treating men with some habitual benefit of the doubt, granted because it has good psychological effects. We are covenantally bound to treat a baptized man like a clean man. Paul uses the same exact kind of exhortation all through Romans 6.

If you are baptized, he says, you are clean, and resurrected – so since you are a resurrected man, you must consider yourself as dead to sin and alive to Christ. He adds, since you are are alive, don’t act dead!

Call Them to Be Who They Are

We are to allow ourselves to have enough hope and confidence in God’s Spirit’s power, and faith in his covenantal promises that we are able to see sinning Christians as Christians first, and to call them to be who they already are.<>online gameпродвижение овцены

Read more

On July 31, 2014 By In Culture, Wisdom

The Death of the Elderly: Part I

This is the first of three blog posts on how we treat the elderly. This post will focus on the ways we are destroying what the elderly are meant to be. It is a negative post. The next post will focus on the results of cutting off of the elderly. The final post will focus on what we can do to fix the problem. 

You shall stand up before the gray head and honor the face of an old man, and you shall fear your God: I am the LORD (Leviticus 19:32).

As Christians we have fought hard against the massacre of children that masquerades as a right our society. We march against the clinics. We set up counseling centers to offset the lies of Planned Parenthood. Pastors set aside a Sunday to preach against the murder of the unborn. But abortion has a younger sister. She is not yet full grown. She has not reached the power and domination of her older sister. But give her time and she will pick up her shovel and begin burying people, just as her more mature sister has.

It should not surprise us that killing unborn children and hatred of the elderly go hand in hand. Both groups are weak. Both groups are or will be a drain on time, energy, and money. Both groups, by our society’s values, contribute little. Both groups are physically weak and therefore easily dispensed with.

“But our society is not killing the elderly,” you say. It is true. We do not put them down, as we do the unborn. Yet our society is killing what the elderly are meant to be. The idea of the elderly is being put to death. Is it that far fetched to think that one day we might kill their bodies as well? Here are four ways we kill the elderly in our society.  If you think of more, put them in the comments.

First, we have exalted youth culture for decades.  The Church has drunk in this idea as much as the world has.  What demographic are movie makers most interested in seeing their movies? Here is a list of the top 25 money making movies in 2013. Which of them had a strong, mature elderly character? The closest I saw was Kevin Costner in Man of Steel. What group are the TV executives most interested in watching their shows? Who do most of the advertisements appeal to? When an elderly person is exalted it usually is because they are acting young. For example, Christie Brinkley was recently praised in a magazine because she could wear a sexy swimsuit at sixty. Our society loves an old person who acts young.  Once the young aspired to be like the old.  Now the old are required to act and look young.

Second, we have an unbiblical love of youthful beauty and strength.  If wearing bikinis and looking cut is the most important thing, then the elderly will have no place among us. If we want smooth skin, tan legs, mini-skirts, skin tight t-shirts, and white teeth then again the elderly will not have a place among us. There is a place for enjoying youthful beauty. When we see an NBA player  throw down a dunk or a woman whose beauty is striking we should stand back in proper admiration. But there are other types of beauty. If we cannot see the beauty of wrinkled hands, blue hair, men who walk with a limp, poor eyesight, and false teeth then we have lost something vital.

Third, we refuse to bring our parents and grandparents into our homes to die. There are exceptions to this. Sometimes the physical needs of a parent are so great they need care which cannot be provided at home. However, in many cases putting a parent in a home is not necessary. It is just convenient. What could we glean if we got to listen to our parents and watch them die? But we don’t like death, except on the big screen. Who wants the burden of changing adult diapers, bathing an older woman, or getting up in the night to care for a parent? What does it say about a society when the people who poured out their lives for us are left to die alone?

Fourth, we do not long for wisdom and maturity. We want to remain forever young, holding on to sixteen as long as we can. But wisdom resides with the aged. Not all the elderly are wise. But many of them are. They have fought battles we have not. They have seen things we have not. They have made mistakes we can learn from. They have endured loss and pain we have not gone through. But in our culture wisdom lives with the young. It is embarrassing how the young treat the old. At times I am ashamed of my age bracket.  We get angry because they are slow in super market. We don’t talk to them because they haven’t seen the latest movie.  We organize our church services so they cannot really participate. We get irritated when they tell us the same story again. We are so sure the way they did it was wrong. We snipe at them or worse ignore them. The way the young treat the old would make our forefathers blush. The biggest problem is not that we do it, but that we think it is a virtue.

There are other ways we have cut off the elderly. Our love of the newest technology comes to mind. But these four points should give you the picture. In a culture where youth and beauty are exalted and where we despise wisdom is it any wonder that the elderly are put out to pasture?<>рекламные щиты стоимостьpagerank а

Read more

On June 20, 2014 By In Culture, Wisdom

The Center of Breaking Bad

“Sin lives at the center of this show.” Maureen Ryan on Breaking Bad. 

(Spoiler Alert! If you haven’t seen the show and plan on watching you should stop reading.) 

I am not sure I can win with this post. Some will wonder why I spent my time watching such a dark, depressing show that ends with a broken marriage and almost all characters of consequence dead. Others will wonder why I “moralized” the show. Couldn’t I just watch for enjoyment? Some will chide me that the show was not very good to begin with.  Others will find different complaints. Yet I plunge on. Why? Breaking Bad is one of the best depictions of sin’s nature and effects ever put on screen.

Summary: the show is about a high school chemistry teacher who finds out he has cancer and begins cooking meth so that he can leave an inheritance for his family. Throughout the series he becomes a drug kingpin, destroys his family, and ultimately dies. The show covers two years of his life from his 50th to his 52nd birthday.

Content: There is some sexual content throughout the series though it is not frequent. There is quite a bit of profanity. The violence is frequent and when it occurs it is graphic and disturbing. The second episode contains one of the more graphic scenes of violence. And of course, drugs, drug dealers, and druggies play varying roles throughout the series. The drugs are not viewed positively. The tone of the show is dark, tense, with a general foreboding hanging over the series.   Whenever something good happens, you know it is only temporary.

What can we learn about sin from this series?

The unintended consequences of our sins cannot be contained.  Walter White thinks his hands are on the reigns. He believes he is in control. But time again things happen he never wanted to, but do as a  result of the choices he made. Season 2 ends with two passenger jets crashing because he chose to watch a girl die instead of save her. Dealing drugs leads to a vendetta against him and his family. His wife and teenage son end up hating him because of his lies. But the most brutal unintended consequence is the death of his brother-in-law in the last season of the show. Walter never intended for this to happen. He begs for it not to happen. But all his choices from the first episode to this have led inevitably to that point.  For us, it is often the same. We make sinful choices and assume those choices are self-contained. We assume we can manage the consequences. But sin has a life of its own. If we let the snake out of the box why we are surprised when the people we love are bit?

We justify our sins with pious excuses. Throughout the series Walter keeps telling himself that he is doing this for his family so they can have money when he dies and his children will be taken care of.  He repeats this narrative throughout the entire series. Even in the final season he still believes he can save his family. Along the way, he makes meth, lies to his wife and son, steals, poisons a child, bombs a nursing a home, has inmates murdered at prison, kidnaps his own daughter, get his brother-in-law killed, and kills one of his partners. The series ends with him estranged from his wife and children. He does get his son money, but he can’t do it in his own name because his son wouldn’t take it.  The show ends with him dying alone in a meth lab.  How often do we cloak our sins in righteous language? I have to spend 70 hours at work so my children can be taken care of? I wasn’t flirting. I was just being nice. I wasn’t lying. I was protecting my family.  Pious excuses do not turn our sin into righteousness.

Side Note: Breaking the 6th Commandment

Murders are a dime a dozen in modern TV shows. In most of these shows people kill other people and the impact of the killings are minimal. In Breaking Bad the killing that Walter and Jesse do has long term impact. Walter agonizes over his first planned killing carefully making a list of pros and cons as he prepares to kill a drug dealer. By the end of the show, he will kill a man without hesitation for very little reason. After Jesse murders Gale he spends the rest of the series haunted by the murder of a “problem dog” who never did anything wrong. Even when their actions indirectly cause the death of someone, such as the shooting of the boy by Todd, the characters are changed by those deaths. So many modern shows take death lightly. There are places where Breaking Bad does that. But the main characters are forever changed when they take the life of another. Men murder and find part of their soul dead.

Breaking Bad 3

Pride is the great destroyer of men. In the fifth episode of the series, Walter is visiting an old business partner who has become rich while Walter is making pennies as a high school chemistry teacher. Walter’s wife tells this partner about his cancer. The partner offers Walter a way out.  He tells him he will pay his medical bills, give him a good job, and take care of his family. Walter refuses. This was one of Vince Gilligan’s, the creator of the show, key moments in the series. The viewers saw Walter as a “creature of such pride and such damaged ego that he would rather be his own man and endanger his family’s life than take a handout like that.” And so Walter White’s descent into pride begins. Time and again his pride keeps him from escaping, from doing what is right. He believes he is immune to all the things that destroy mortal men. He can escape anything. And for a while he does. No scene demonstrates this like the famous “I am the one who knocks” scene. But of course even as Walter says this he is on the verge of falling. We watch him on the screen and ask, “Can’t he see what his pride is doing to him and his family?” But do we? Do we realize how our soul rots as we nurse our ego along? Do we realize how badly we want to be powerful, feared, and well known? Do we realize how self drives our lives?  Pride comes before the fall. (Proverbs 11:2, 16:18, 29:23) For the proud the closing scene is always the same.

When we are enslaved to sin we use people. One of the saddest parts of the show is the relationship between Jesse and Walter. Jesse is a young, small time drug dealer who Walter recruits to help him make meth. Jesse is looking for a father. Throughout the show we keep hoping that Walter will fill that role. Occasionally he does. But normally Jesse is just another tool to be used by Walter. He uses Jesse, lies to Jesse, and ultimately betrays him to Neo-Nazis for torture. He does rescue him in the very end, but that gesture is hollow by that point.  Walter ends up using his wife, son, baby daughter, brother-in-law, friends, everyone. Sin eats away our love for people. When we are bound by sin people become disposable. When their minutes run out we just throw them away. We see in Walter a piece of ourselves. As sin grows in our lives people get smaller.

Sin blinds us to ourselves. The viewers can see where Walter’s path is taking him. We know where the story ends. But he cannot see it. Throughout most of the show he thinks of himself as a middle aged suburban man who loves his wife and children. He wears nice shirts and khaki pants. He packs a sack lunch to go make meth. He drives a very normal car. Jesse is the scumbag, lowlife drug dealer. It is not until very late in the series that Walter even invites Jesse into his home. But Walter’s view of himself is twisted, like a carnival mirror.  Right before Hank is killed he tells Walt, “You are the smartest guy I ever met and you’re too stupid to see.” He is talking about the fact that a Neo-Nazi is about to kill him (Hank). But he could be talking about Walt’s entire rise to power as a drug lord.  He can see so much. Yet he cannot see himself. All of us live like this to one degree or another. From the outside others can see our sins. They often point them out to us. But we can’t or won’t see them. For those who refuse to look in the mirror of God’s Word the end is the same s; we find out too late that the picture of ourselves in our heads is lie.

Side Note: The Ending

It is very difficult to end a show like Breaking Bad. The expectations were high.  There were so many ways it could have gone, so many loose ends to tie up. I was happy with the ending. Walter paid for his sins with the loss of his family, friends and his “empire.” Jesse went free. Walter takes revenge on the Nazis. Walter dies in a meth lab. Vince Gilligan described it as Gollum being reunited with the ring, his “precious.” I can see that. However, I think an ending where Walter lives, but all he loves is gone or dead would have been more appropriate. I think of the end of The Godfather III, which was not a great movie, where Al Pacino, as an old man, living in exile, and totally alone just slumps over in his chair and dies. Sometimes living with your sins is worse than dying because of them. It was a very good ending, but still Gilligan gave Walter White a better ending than he deserved.<>mobi onlineпродвижение интернет ов оптимизация

Read more

On April 28, 2014 By In Theology, Wisdom

A Schnauzer at a Smorgasbord of Spew

Like a dog returns to his vomit is a fool who repeats his folly.  Proverbs 26:11

If you find it disgusting, then you’re pickin’ up what he’s layin’ down. It really is meant to be gross.

In the study of rhetoric, this verse is a prime example of a flawless, deductive argument. The principles undergirding the premises need not be explained, for two very obvious things are assumed by the sage as he constructs his argument to instruct his progeny: first, everybody knows what a dog does upon returning to his regurgitation, and secondly, everybody knows what it tastes like.

Beginning with second assumed premise–we all know what it tastes like. Vomit is not vomit unless it exits via the hole that it previously entered as food. The open-ended digestive system is only at peace when it is a one-way-street. In all the recent conversation about natural law, here’s a good example: the food is supposed to go in one hole and come out the other one. Anything entering or exiting the wrong, respective, human orifice is unnatural, i.e. not designed to work that way. A happy digestive system is like a British boy-band: Mono-directional.

Now, back to the first premise: what do dogs do upon returning to their up-chuck? Are dogs acting against nature when they feast upon their own puke? Apparently not—I’ve never met a dog that has resisted this smorgasbord of spew, but the fact that they eat it doesn’t make it food. It doesn’t make it any less vomit in their mouth than it was on the ground. Eating vomit does not make it food. It stays vomit, hence, the inherent, visceral urge to vomit upon reading this proverb.

Why does this proverbial argument about fools communicate so effectively? It resonates, deep-down, because it doesn’t need to be explained. Once you know what barf is, which every reader of this proverb knows all too well, then you are repulsed by the prospect of eating it, which would be entirely unnatural for a human, or even by the thought of a dog eating it, which naturally occurs every time they encounter it.

Are you a fool? Am I a fool? Today, are we going to repeat our folly? If we do, we are like a beagle at a banquet of barf; a poodle at a parfait of puke; or a schnauzer at a smorgasbord of spew.<>рекламное агентство ростовраскрутка web ов

Read more