Exploring the Well

Wandering the savage garden...

Power

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One of many distressing things about the church and its internals is the use and abuse of power.

It’s be easy to look at priests’ abuse of children, and see those as mere aberrations – or things isolated from “our church,” which is surely an excellent place with no such abuses.

But this view, an example of an external locus of control, is not always accurate.

Mankind’s story in the context of God (or is it “God’s story in the context of Man?”) has always involved power. The book of Genesis is filled with examples of the struggle for power and security: Adam, Joseph’s brothers, Esau, Noah.. even Abraham. Over and over again, you have Man claiming power that is rightfully God’s, in the attempt to control his own destiny and fate.

It isn’t limited to Genesis, either. The Perushim and Zadokim (“Pharisees” and “Sadducees,” respectively) struggled for power among themselves; their struggle for power caused them to miss the Messiah, to cause Him to be put to death. (This was in accordance with prophecy, so it’s not like they had a whole lot of choice, I suppose, in the end… they’re to be pitied rather than hated.) Herod slew the innocents out of a lust for the preservation of power.

The examples are numerous – going through them would include most of the Bible, I think. Ahab, Jonah, Job, Paul, Peter, Hezekiah, Absolom, Josiah, Ezra, David, Solomon… it goes on and on, covering the saints and sinners alike.

However, as I started with, the use and abuse of power goes far beyond stories, or even those unfortunate events we see in the press.

Power rules Christian life, as well. Paul’s writings, for example, are often used to control the structure of modern churches, by reading his edicts concerning the proper qualifications for deaconship, or about marriage, celibacy, gender roles, personal finery, riches, all kinds of things.

The key to reading these, for me, is to keep in mind that power isn’t necessarily absolute, nor is it permission to rule. Power, in the Christian life, is about responsibility, not control.

For example, my wife is to submit to me, as stated by Paul. But that doesn’t mean that I’m “over” her (and, if you’ll pardon the pun, I’ll never ever be “over” my wife, nor do I have any desire to be.) My wife serves me as I serve her, as the Bride of Christ serves Him and as He died for us.

However, while Christ serves as a perfect example for us and our relationships, we are not perfect. It’s here that absolutes turn into weapons.

For example, can a woman teach a class of men? Or serve as a deacon? Or perhaps serve as a pastor?

I’d have to say it depends. I have no issue, personally, with a woman of God teaching me; I’d welcome teaching no matter from whom it was. I have no issue being led by women in worship or in any other endeavor; those whom God has appointed are those whom I accept.

And that’s the crux of the issue. If a woman happens to be the most suitable candidate for the position of deacon, and God leads a church in such a way that a woman is selected… rock on. I don’t say this to say that every female deacon (deaconess?) is “right” or “approved by God” – only that I don’t see God as being limited in who He chooses to place in a given role.

Therefore, would I accept a female pastor, as well? Again, I don’t know – I suppose it’d be an oddity to me, but then again, that’s natural conservatism at work. I’d have to evaluate the specific situation. God has certainly chosen women to lead in the Bible (D’vorah, Hadasseh), so why would He be unable to do so today?

Again, that doesn’t mean a blanket acceptance of every woman in a given role – or of every man in that same role.

The key is to be mindful of the role of God in our lives, and to recognize that His power is greater than anything else; that which He chooses to be is not ours to fight.

And our natural bent and desire for power does exactly that.

Shalom.

Originally posted on January 5, 2012.

Orthodoxy

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One of the hardest things for me in writing this blog is the fear of orthodoxy.

Orthodoxy is the state or quality of being orthodox; orthodox means “adhering to the accepted or traditional and established faith,” as thefreedictionary.com defines it.

So why am I afraid of orthodoxy?

Because it’s a division. Orthodoxy in itself is fine, I suppose; the quality of adherence to what is proper to believe is hard to dislike.

But orthodoxy is used as a club, and I don’t like it.

The problem with orthodoxy is that it’s basically a way of saying “What I say is right, and what YOU say is wrong,” no matter what the people in question actually say.

Even if one person says what the other does, the question of orthodoxy focuses on differences – so person #2 might be just saying what person #1 does, but they’re really not telling the truth, and they’re actually unorthodox.

It leads to sectarianism, witch hunts, proselytization inside the Body of Christ, and endless divisions.

To me, what’s important is what’s related to salvation. Period. All the rest is dressing. If the Eastern Orthodox Church believes in salvation through Christ, then… okay. All the rest is dressing. (And yes, I’m simplifying; there’re axioms I’m not summarizing, and I know it, and you know it.) If the Roman Catholic Church believes it, then… okay. The same goes for anything: protestant, catholic, whatever.

The core issue is and is ONLY Christ. All the rest is irrelevant, and yammering constantly about the protestants, catholics, or whoever the current target is, is counterproductive. It doesn’t help the target of ire, nor does it create an environment such that a target wants to be nearer to the attacker.

It’s natural for people for whom strict orthodoxy is important to question those for whom it is not, too. After all, if you aren’t orthodox, you’re not right.

Well… fine. I can live with that. The problem is that not only does orthodoxy lead to sectarianism and division, but it’s undefined.

It’s not undefined in the “I can’t find a definition” sense, because obviously a definition can be found – I quoted it above, remember? Scroll up if you don’t.

It’s undefined in terms of the “accepted,” “traditional”, and “established” faith parts. If you accept your faith, then it’s accepted, no? Except I suppose it means “generally” accepted. Even there, you’re talking about a nebulous definition, a moving and unclear target.

Same for tradition; our traditions change over time. Is this change wrong? It could be, I suppose, but many people don’t even realize changes have occurred; are they, then, wrong?

I say no. Traditions change because times change. The core issues of salvation and faith do not change, but the expression of praise and worship does change, and should change. We do not sing the way the early church does (and if you’re saying “My church does!” I’d bet you that you’re wrong.)

The early church wasn’t formal. It couldn’t be; it was an agent of change in and of itself. I do not think that the agents of change, largely uneducated and feeling their way along, would even begin to presume they knew enough to codify a standard for the rest of time.

So what is to be done? Should beliefs be tolerated because they’re believed? Doesn’t this open the way to true heresy?

I suppose so. First, though, let’s not use the word “heresy,” since it’s a lightning rod that’s not necessary; most incorrect beliefs are nowhere near as insidious as the term implies.

In my opinion, what one should do, when confronted with someone who believes something the Bible doesn’t support, is…

  1. Check the Bible. Maybe they’re right and you’re not. Be humble in Christ; just because it’s something you think doesn’t mean it’s something the Bible supports; after all, that’s what you’re thinking about their beliefs… maybe God thinks the same of your beliefs.
  2. Consider whether the incorrect belief is actually all that important. It’s easy to split hairs about transubstantiation, baptism through immersion, infant baptism, etc.
  3. Educate in love. This is the most important thing: if you instruct someone about how stupid they are for thinking something, then you’re not going to reach them, period. You’re going to turn them away.
  4. Accept the one you’re talking to. If they’re saved, then they’re your brother or sister in Christ anyway. If they’re not, then you’re a witness to and for them. Act like it, so that they can see Christ through your actions. Christ loved us, even while we were yet sinners (Romans 5:8) and we should follow his example.

Orthodoxy is not bad, in and of itself; I suppose it can be considered a worthy goal. The issues around it, though, are that it’s easy to use it as a dividing line between the wheat and chaff, even among the Body of Christ (where all are “wheat,” as it were), and that orthodoxy is either very simple or very complex.

So, focus on the core issues and emphasize them, and if one instructs another, remember that of a teacher more is expected (James 3:1). Love one another, as James 2:8 says: and be mindful that if you are doing right by loving another as yourself, they are doing so as well.

Shalom.

Trust

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We are called to trust in the Lord for all things (Proverbs 3:5), but it’s one of the hardest things we are called to do, mostly because of the nature of what trust is, and who we are, and how we trust those around us.

Begging your indulgence, here’s a story, one you’re probably familiar with, and then a changed version to illustrate a point about trust.

It’s “The Boy Who Cried Wolf.” Here’s take one.

A shepherd boy is tending his flocks above his village and decides to play a joke. So he calls down to the village, saying, “Wolf! Wolf! There’s a wolf attacking my flock!”

The villagers all gather their weapons, and rush up the hill to where the shepherd boy laughs at them for falling for his joke. They grumble at him, and go back to their work in the village.

The next day the boy decides to play another joke. So he calls down to the village, saying, “Wolf, wolf!” The villagers gather their weapons and rush up the hill, only to be laughed at again. They yell at him for wasting their time again and go back to the village.

The next day the boy is tending his flock, until he sees an actual wolf attacking his sheep. He screams, “Wolf! A wolf is actually here! Help!” — yet the villagers hear, and say among themselves, “That rascal is trying to fool us yet again,” and stay where they were, while the wolf destroys the flock and the boy is ruined.

Old story, yes. So let’s see if it changes any with some variations. I’ll emphasize the changes so the story’s easier to skim.

A shepherd boy is tending his flocks above his village and decides to play a joke. So he calls down to the village, saying, “Wolf! Wolf! There’s a wolf attacking my flock!”

The villagers all gather their weapons, and rush up the hill to where the shepherd boy laughs at them for falling for his joke. They grumble at him, and go back to their work in the village.

Two months pass. A wolf actually attacks his flock, and when he calls the villagers, they fend off the wolf. A week after that, the boy decides to play another joke. So he calls down to the village, saying, “Wolf, wolf!” The villagers gather their weapons and rush up the hill, only to be laughed at again. They yell at him for wasting their time again and go back to the village.

Another month passes.

Then one day the boy is tending his flock, until he sees an actual wolf attacking his sheep. He screams, “Wolf! A wolf is actually here! Help!” — yet the villagers hear, and say among themselves, “That rascal is trying to fool us yet again,” and stay where they were, while the wolf destroys the flock and the boy is ruined.

The villagers are justified in their response, here, no matter what the response is. If they actually charge up the hill, they’re justified, because after all, he has called them when it was necessary – but they’re also justified in not rushing up the hill, because he’s broken their trust.

The difference between the stories is time. In the first story, it’s rapid-fire. In the second, there’s a period of trustworthiness between his “calling wolf.”

He’s not trustworthy in any case – it’s just a matter of risk and reward as to whether the villagers should respond or not.

So how does this apply for us?

Well, it’s painfully easy for us to do the exact same thing. (I know; I’ve done it.) While perhaps we obey the Commandment not to lie (“You shall not bear false witness,” Exodus 20:16), trust is more than not telling the truth – trust is acting in such a way that our motives are known and acted upon consistently and reliably. It means not only saying what is true, but acting upon it.

The sad part is that our relationship to God is based on our human relationships. It shouldn’t be – God isn’t like us, so we should see Him in different lights, but for better or for worse, we usually see God as we saw our earthly fathers, which is usually something we have to struggle to overcome.

Rebuilding trust isn’t easy. It takes a lot of work and patience. Once trust is broken, you have to do a number of things, including:

  1. Never lie.
  2. Include your feelings – it’s not enough just to recite cold facts, but you have to include the secondary minutiae. I’m very bad about this, myself.
  3. Be patient, because rebuilding trust isn’t a matter of doing trustworthy things once.
  4. Be consistent.

(A good place to start might be “How to Build Trust,” from WikiHow. My list has four elements; theirs has nineteen. Theirs is better.)

Being trustworthy is the best way to learn to trust others, because you learn to identify the things that make people trustworthy.

Trusting others is the way to understand how to truly trust in God. Again, God’s not subservient to man, nor is this ‘right’ – but it’s what we, as humans, do.

My relationship with God is perceived through the light of how I felt about my father – so I see God as clinical and demanding. Yet God is greater than this.

My wife’s relationship with God is based on her feelings about her family – and as her family has not protected her, her trust is easily threatened. (Yet she’s a wonderful Christian and a wonderful person.)

My children’s relationship with God is based, for better or for worse, on how they see me.

Therefore, there’s a lot of reasonable pressure on me to act in a trustworthy fashion, that they might be able to trust in God more easily and more completely than I do, that they might act more within the will of God than I have.

So it is for all of us. We are to act in such a way that those who do not know God can come to know Him through us, and those who do know God are blessed through us. If we do not act in such ways as to gather and deserve their trust, we hurt them and their relationship to both us and God.

Shalom.

Originally posted on January 1, 2012.

Where should we be willing to go?

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I was having a short discussion with someone this morning when I was warned that a group of people were not real Christians, but claimed to be; the assertion was that they were “wicked.”

Fair enough. I don’t have enough observation under my belt to determine if that’s true or not, but the statement made me think about where it was proper for us, as Christians, to go.

After all, one imagines good Christians to be unwilling to ride with Hell’s Angels; good Christians don’t listen to rock and roll, good Christians do this, good Christians don’t do that.

I find this view of Christian life to be limited and ineffective. It’s not as simple as “Christians act like…”

Paul said, in Philippians 1:27, that we are to live in such a way that those who do not know God can see Him in us.

Only conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that whether I come and see you or remain absent, I will hear of you that you are standing firm in one spirit, with one mind striving together for the faith of the gospel. (NASV)

How can those who don’t know Christ see us if we are not where they are? They’re not coming to church to observe us; they’re living their lives where they are.

We’re to be the light of the world and the salt of the earth (Matthew 5:13-14, another set of verses I had to look up). How can we enrich those around us if we declare ourselves separate in all things?

To me, I see the following groups:

  • Those who do not believe and act accordingly.
  • Those who claim to be believers, yet are not and do not act like Christians.
  • Those who are believers, yet do not act accordingly.
  • Those who are believers, and act appropriately.

I definitely try to be in the last group, because I find those people inspirational to be around, but realistically, I think nearly all Christians are in the third group (those who believe yet do not always do right), and those who aren’t are probably in the second group (those who claim to believe but do not.)

We should never sin deliberately. Romans 6:15 says:

What then? Shall we sin because we are not under law but under grace? May it never be! (NASV)

Yet 1 Corinthians 8 has a lot to say about what is and is not sin for those who are under grace. Paul is using the analogy of food … well, okay, he was talking about food, but it’s more broadly applicable as well, when looking at Hebrews and Romans as well.

The point he was trying to make was this: sin is not “obeying the rules.” Sin is “disobeying the Holy Spirit,” separating oneself from God. What is sin for you may not be sin for me. It probably is, but you don’t know that, nor do I know if what is sin for me is sin for you.

So, then. Where should we be willing to go?

Depending on the strength of our faith and our relationship with Christ: anywhere.

That means I can go to a skate park and hang – and be fully within the will of Christ, because there’s nothing there that separates me from God. I can obey Philippians 1:27 there, and act such that those who do not know Christ can see Him in me.

I can ride motorcycles with the Hell’s Angels, and be fully within the will of Christ. I can obey Philippians 1:27 there, and act such that those who do not know Christ can see Him in me.

I can listen to Tool, and be fully within the will of Christ (although Tool’s anti-religious stance makes it harder than it could be sometimes; I don’t listen to some of their music because I cannot edify Christ through it.)

I suppose some Christians could go to a strip club and be within the will of Christ, if their faith and will is strong enough to enter and not sin; I don’t think I’m that strong. (Plus, let’s be honest: those are some of the saddest places on the face of the earth.) If they were able to go and stand as witnesses for Christ – a very tall order, but within the realm of possibility – then yes, I’d say even a strip club might be appropriate for Christians. Not me – I have no idea how I would be able to act in such a way that those in a strip club would be able to see Christ in me there. But I can’t say it can’t be done – all things are possible in Christ.

So should I avoid people or situations because I think that the people there aren’t always edifying Christ? No. I should not. I should examine the circumstances and try to act in such a way that those who do not know Christ can see His effect on me, and maybe God through that can call them to Himself.

This isn’t to say that those who do avoid situations are wrong – remember, it’s about what they can and cannot endure. It’s not wrong for me to avoid strip clubs, because such places would strain my ability to not sin. (Plus, my wife would have a cow.)

But I should go where Christ leads me, wherever that may be. If that’s a bar, then so be it; I should try to follow Christ in all things. (He hasn’t asked me to go to any bars, thank you.) If that’s a foreign country to witness for Him as a missionary, so be it. (Again, I have not been so called.)

God is greater than everything in His creation, good and bad. I should always try to bring the good to everything around me, including those things that need His touch most.

Shalom.

Originally published on December 28, 2011.