the scandal of the cross

In the last 18 months I have been more involved and interested in serving others than I ever had before.  In very different situations – with kids & youths in Africa, among the homeless in Winston-Salem, and with people struggling with addiction in a structured recovery program – I’ve developed relationships with and spent great efforts to show love.

There have certainly been encouraging moments.  But, discouragements seem to occur far more often.  Sometimes, people simply don’t grow.  At other times, people have been deceptive, misleading or downright manipulative, and their reaction can make me question whether the entire act of serving others is even worth it. 

It’s very tempting to be critical of those people serving others who have ‘lost their passion.’  Workers at a homeless shelter are gruff (or downright abusive), and volunteers or passersby can wonder why a personality like that would ever take such a job in the first place.  But no one takes a job in order to be inconsiderate and cruel – it’s a learned posture.  A servant with the best of motives faces deception, manipulation and disappointment and, as a survival tactic, decides to create distance and emotionally separating from the trauma.

It’s very difficult to remain hopeful in such a litany of discouragements.   In Exclusion and Embrace, Miroslav Volf explores similar ideas (much more clearly than I ever could: 

“The ultimate scandal of the cross is the all too frequent failure of self-donation to bear positive fruit: you give yourself for the other – and violence does not stop but destroys you; you sacrifice your life – and stabilize the power of the perpetrator.  Though self-donation often issues in the joy of reciprocity, it must reckon with the pain of failure and violence.  When violence strikes, the very act of self-donation becomes a cry before the dark face of God.  This dark face confronting the act of self-donation is as scandal.”

“In the final analysis, the only available options are either to reject the cross and with it the core of the Christian faith or to take up the cross, follow the Crucified – and be scandalized ever anew by the challenge.  As the Gospel of Mark reports, the first disciples followed, and were scandalized (14:26ff).  Yet they continued to tell the story of the cross, including the account of how they abandoned the Crucified.  Why?  Because precisely in the scandal, they have discovered a promise.  In serving and giving themselves for others (Mark 10:45), in lamenting and protesting before the dark face of God (15:34), they found themselves in the company of the Crucified.  In his empty tomb they saw the proof that the cry of desperation will turn into a song of joy and that the face of God will eventually ‘shine’ upon a redeemed world.”

the dangers of comfort, wealth, and control

Yesterday afternoon and morning I heard a pastor from Uganda speak about his ministry, church, and services to Kampala. It was obvious both times I met him – in a group conversation and then his message before a church – that he is a dreamer. His vision for his church is undeniably big, and throughout his talk it was clear that he was not supportive of typical American expressions of Christianity.

He was clear that the African church has something that the American church does not. At first, it doesn’t sound right – America has everything, right?

America has so much. We’ve got enough entertainment available to distract us at any moment of the day. We have too many choices to allow us to ignore the things we should be addressing. We have enough convenience in our lives that we never have to struggle to meet our most basic human needs. We have enough control over our situation to never realize our weakness and dependence on God. But perhaps “enough” is simply too much.

In Revelation, Jesus dictates a scathing letter to the church in Laodicea, a very wealthy trading city that has many parallels with modern America. The letter attacks the ‘lukewarm’ attitude of the church, and the cause of such spiritual apathy is directly tied to its wealth:

“You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked.” Rev. 3:17

Wealth creates a feeling of superiority. Since “Money makes the world go round,” having a lot of it (or, even some of it) can easily lead to feelings being in control, of being able to handle anything that comes along. Far from empowering and helping humanity, this attitude leads to a greater sense of poverty and isolation. The fact that Jesus uses such strong words from Jesus – “wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked” are not the first thoughts that come to mind when I drive by the homes of multimillionaires) – hints at the level of spiritual danger a life of control can cause.

We lose a great deal of the intimacy of our relationship with God if we don’t have to rely on his protection and providence. Throughout the Bible, and especially the Psalms, prayer is a desperate cry to God for deliverance in a desperate situation. If we read this psalm from a place of comfort and control, it won’t have the same emotional connection as it did for psalmists like David, who held God as the only deliverance from his pursuers and enemies. The phrase “God is faithful” holds much more power and hope for someone in poverty in weakness than for someone who has every need (and want) filled – it becomes a simple, almost meaningless platitude.

Throughout the Gospels Jesus speaks much about money and its deceptiveness. But in his letter to Laodicea he gives a specific way to end their apathy.

“I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see.” (v. 18)

Ironically, it appears that Jesus is offering these wealthy people even more gold. But God offers a different kind of wealth – gold that has been refined, tested and approved to be good (unlike the fleeting wealth of the world). Also, he promises that their nakedness will be covered (what does this imply? That the emperor has no clothes?). And what were they blind to? With wealth comes an economic state of mind, in which everything (and everyone) can come to be viewed for their intrinsic earning power or monetary value. It forces us to not see people, but instead threats or opportunities to gain more money. This “salve” Jesus mentions, then, frees us from this construct, and we can learn to appreciate and see other people for their intrinsic, God-given value and beauty – even the poorest of the poor.

There is one catch – the rich in Laodicea must buy from Jesus this new kind of wealth. And, as Jesus mentions in the parables about treasure in a field and pearls of great value, it often takes selling everything one has to claim it (perhaps because holding on to any of the old possessions will be too great a temptation and barrier to appreciate the new).

Selling everything is difficult to do – it’s a kind of conversion experience into a totally different way of living. That’s not easy, and in the letter Jesus recognizes that this change feels like a challenge and a punishment. But in that challenge is love, since it offers a healthier way of life.

“Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline. So be earnest, and repent.” (v.19)

Jesus demands repentance for those living with and dominated by wealth, for allowing those comforts to distort their position in the world and before God.

All this attacking of wealth may seem one-sided. It should be noted that wealth isn’t inherently bad. Many wealthy people are celebrated in the Bible, from Abraham to David, and even Jesus relied on the wealth of friends (his support network of women – the scandal! (Lk 8:3) and Joseph of Arimathea). These people are celebrated, even in part because of their wealth. But Jesus’ voice is consistent: it is very easy for wealth (and control) to deceive us.

When I was in Sierra Leone my spirituality matured in ways it never had before. Much of that was being in a community of people that pushed me, of serving others and discovering God’s heart for the poor. But also, much of that growth came from simply getting away from those distractions that keep me from being myself.

I didn’t have my laptop, nor did I regularly have internet access. In fact, we rarely had electricity. I lived on bucket showers. No car – I walked a lot and crammed into Poda Podas. I didn’t bring much money (which was still a lot by Sierra Leonean standards). I didn’t bring my iPod. And as a result, it was hard. My typical coping mechanisms weren’t available, so I couldn’t escape from the realities of poverty and injustice, the ugliness I discovered both within and without.

Being a part of the Servant Team there had its difficulties – crossing cultures, working with Lighthouse, being confronted with the poverty & injustice in Kroo Bay, and I couldn’t hide from them by going back to those ‘comforts’ that I take for granted in the States. In that experience, I learned to rely on God much more than I had before – for encouragement, for energy, for the affirmation that I was doing OK. Also, I gained a little perspective on my passions, reading and theology predominantly, something I wouldn’t have done if I could have turned on the iPod and tuned out.

In many ways I have been disappointed in myself after I returned from Sierra Leone a year ago. It’s been too easy to fall back into old habits, of relying on the comforts & distractions of American life to impede my growth. Sure, I can ‘survive’ with those things, but if I am seriously interested in spiritual growth, I don’t think I can strike a balance between those comforts and following Jesus.

It’s becoming clearer to me that I need to get away from a lot of those distractions, and that requires a distinct break from the way I’ve been living before. For me, only a big decision like that would do – it’s too easy for me to fall back into old ways if the opportunity (and temptation) remains. Now, how to do that in resource-heavy and contingency plan-loving America is a good question. Living in simplicity, it seems, looks different for each person, and it may be a lifelong process of ‘climbing down the ladder.’

But I know that there has consistently been great spiritual value in weakness, intentional poverty, and dependence on God. Perhaps that’s what Paul was hinting at when he said that he committed to “having nothing, and yet possessing everything” (2 Cor 6:10).

Relational identity

I’ve been pondering relationships for a few weeks now, and the more I do, the more I realize that this framework emphasizes changed behavior much more than static definitions of truth.  In this little excerpt I (badly) delve into philosophical/theological and psychological issues that I have little understanding and therefore no business exploring.  Take all these thoughts with a grain of salt; they are born mainly of ignorance and error.  Please correct them as you see fit.

Identity is often perceived by static concepts.  I am an American.  I am a Christian.  I am a male.  I am doctor or teacher (i.e. what I do).  I suppose since they are so unchanging, they’re the best way to define who I am.  

Our culture that denies the existence of an absolute truth; it says there is nothing ‘out there’ that is objectively verifiable.  For someone in a postmodern perspective, it can be said that “truth” is found in relationships we experience.  There’s a Postal Service song that laments, “I want so badly to believe that there is truth, that love is real,” and goes about seeking this truth by rekindling a relationship with an old flame.  Relationships are the source of meaning for people without truth.  And, while this may be taking on too much of an absolute framework for many postmoderns, I’m pondering if it’s possible to claim that God (who is quite absolute) seeks and establishes relationships with every human being (which makes the presentation of Truth very contextualized and specific).  

And there are major changes to the concept of identity if one applies this relational framework.  There isn’t such a thing as a lone individual whose essence exists independent of all others (and is solely determined by reason).  My very essence comes from a complex interaction of relationships – family, society, country – that all have served to shape who I am today.  It is impossible for me to be who I am without those connections with other people.  

Perhaps these relationships form what is most central to the understanding of identity.  And, since we value and cultivate certain relationships much more than others – I know my family much better than I do my mailman – certain ones are more important in determining how I view myself.  And, the more those relationships define who I am, the more I allow those interactions to be an agent of change in my life.  At a simple level, I begin to emulate the behavior of my friends – I develop similar tastes in music, I copy their mannerisms, I begin to enjoy the same habits and pastimes they do.  At an extreme level, these relationships can lead to drastic changes in my self-understanding. If my (nonexistent) wife were to ask for a divorce – a fundamental aspect of who I am is suddenly lost and I’m left grasping for a solid self-image. 

 When people have damaged or incomplete relationships with other people, they can experience an identity crisis.  Key relationships – with those people most important to us – are fundamental to our conception of identity.  Part of our brokenness involves putting certain relationships in too high a position, in creating expectations that no relationships could ever fulfill.  Among others, Boyfriends/girlfriends (or even the longing for one not yet ‘had’) can do incredible damage to an individual’s psyche when that relationship becomes the fundamental source of self-identification and obsession.  

Identity is most closely tied to those relationships we view as central and most defining.  For a follower of Jesus, this relationship constitutes a new identity (2 Cor 5:17) – our very understanding of who we are changes.  The Bible is full of images describing our new identity – familial ones like sons of God (Ro 8:14, Gal 3:26), friends of Christ (Jn 15:15).  This new identity is stronger than all others that, based on human frailty and sinfulness, will ultimately disappoint.

However, if identity is viewed as something static, then a person becomes a Christian and that’s all that is expected – perhaps that’s why I never really understood why the advice, “Understand your identity in Christ,” would ever help with my struggles.  However, if our new (relational) identity is based upon valuing and prioritizing the relationship with Jesus above all others, then it is a given that this relationship will lead us to change the way we live our lives.  It’s not always easy (Heb 12:7-8), but through those difficulties the relationship deepens.  To gain a stronger sense of identity (and be better equipped to deal with the hardships in all our other relationships), we must deepen this relationship with our Creator.  The greater intimacy in our relationship with Christ makes our identity in Him stronger.  From there we can then interact with the Church (Eph 4:14-16) and the world, with all their disappointments and betrayals, with our true identity established and secure.

Truth is Relationship

Ever since the Enlightenment, the concept of truth has been based upon a predominantly rational framework. This idea – what has often been described as propositional truth – says that truth claims are either true or false and come in basic, rationally provable statements. Much has been gained from this idea, and modern society owes much to the ordering of our cosmos through basic rational, objectively-verifiable claims. “The Bible is true,” “God is omnipotent and omniscient” are basic simple propositional truth claims.

As the most rational way of studying the Scriptures, modern Christianity decided to read the Bible as a means of pulling out these propositional truths. Narratives, psalms and poems all serve to create these basic statements.

The Bible certainly contains propositional truth claims. “God is love” (1 Jn 4:16), for example, gives a basic property of the nature of God. But, as a whole, this is not the nature of the truth claims of the Bible. There are very few instances in the Bible in which accepting truth is a form “mental assent” to a set of principles and statements like modern, rational forms of Christianity often describe.

Throughout the biblical narrative the nature of truth comes through in the context of relationships. As Colossians Remixed suggests, “In stark contrast to an objectivist epistemology that esteems distance, detachment, universality and abstractness, we discern in the biblical literature an understanding of truth that affirms intimacy, connectedness, particularity and concreteness” (44-45). Here’s a list of several examples where truth comes through in relationships (it is in no way exhaustive):

• In the Garden of Eden, God is an active participant in the lives of Adam and Eve and “walks in the garden in the cool of the day.”(Gen 3:8) God is clearly present among them, but when sin comes – clearly a relational issue – this contact is broken and the story of humanity’s lostness begins.
• The entire Israelite understanding of the world is shaped by the covenant relationship God established with his people. Abraham’s rejection of the idols of his people to embrace worship of the one God (an assertion of monotheistic truth) comes through a covenant. God approaches Abraham with the promise of a great nation, and he even puts Himself on the line to do it (the fire passing through the sacrifices says, basically ‘May the same happen to me if I don’t hold to my promise’ – see a commentary on Gen. 15:17 for more info).
• When Moses comes and brings the Torah, the Covenant relationship is codified and structured. This truth is still guided by relationship: they are to obey the Torah, because the Israelites are God’s people and are supposed to be holy (“set apart”) from the rest of the world. Their entire worldview (and their idea of what is True) is shaped by this covenant relationship.
• At times, it has been interpreted that early Judaism was not explicitly monotheistic but instead henotheism, i.e. they worship one God, but acknowledge that there might be other gods out there. If that was the case, then statements about worshiping the Lord above other gods, like in the Psalms (95:3, 97:7, 135:5, and notably 138:1), articulate a particular truth claim about the greatness of God from the context of a particular relationship. To paraphrase, Israelite truth claims might say: “There may be gods out there, but we care about the God we know and relate with.”
• The prophets, as the voice of Truth for a society that has abandoned their relationship to God, further elaborate on this connection. Hosea’s basic message insinuates the God-Israel dynamic is as broken a relationship as adultery. Jeremiah says “truth has perished” because of the Israelites obedience (7:28). Colossians Remixed explains that the hebrew word emeth – a word now put in English as “faithful,” is simply “truth” in the KJV (45).
• Most central, and a common statement among evangelicals, is that central to the Christian message is that a “personal relationship with Jesus Christ” will reconcile us to God, and that reconciliation also occurs through relationships. The Incarnation – when Christ became flesh to live among us – it was to establish this connection, to heal this relationship. If true Life is union with God and Death is being without Him (as Christian theologians have said from the earliest years), Jesus’ statement, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life” (Jn 14:6) is the declaration that Jesus, whom we can know and connect to, is basically everything that life is all about.
• In Acts 15 the Christians in Jerusalem try to determine whether Gentile believers are supposed to follow the laws of Judaism and keep the requirements of the Torah. Ultimately, they decide that the Gentiles are free from the Torah’s commandments – are not universal and for all but instead specific to the relationship between the Israelites and God.
• The end of the Christian story is in a city – a large community. Central to this city (and the source of its light (Rev 22:5) is God, who, in chooses a remarkable promise of intimacy and closeness with his people. Rev. 21:3b says, “Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God.”

 

So what does this distinction mean? What does this change about how we live our lives?

• Propositional truth is disembodied: in order to be universally applicable it speaks in generalities and sweeping statements. Relational truth, however, involves different parties who live in particular places and times: context matters. If a friend of mine moved halfway across the world, my relationship with him would go through a major change, because the context of the friendship would have changed. God seeks to be in relationship with all of humanity, and I think this is something very absolute and universal. However, since every context is different, how God interacts with people will always be one-of-a-kind. Our personal stories, relationships and worldviews all shape this relationship, as well as societal and cultural factors that shape the way we think.This distinction also shapes how we understand truth. Since relationships without context are meaningless and static, Christianity is most true when it is lived out and embodied in a particular situation. So, any follower Jesus must continually to seek how this relationship with God applies to his/her situation (but this process is not hyperindividualistic; it is best accomplished within that context’s community, as in a church). This application, however, isn’t an attempt to mold God into a certain society or culture; instead it seeks its transformation and redemption into what God wants it to be – its original purpose and fulfillment.
• The only response to a propositional truth is to accept it or reject it, to deem it true or false. For this reason, to be a Christian has often been reduced to Romans 10:9’s requirement to simply “believe, and that’s it” (yes, that’s a rough and unfair paraphrase). From this simplistic view, belief in a propositional truth does not necessarily lead to changes in how someone lives his/her life. In a propositional view of the world, spiritual growth is concerned with the accumulation of more knowledge, more “true” statements. A person can take a detached, academic view of things that doesn’t involve the individual in the process of knowing and growing. Within relationships, however, change is almost a guarantee. I am who I am today because I have been shaped and altered by relationships with my family, friends, society, etc. To be in relationship with other people is to open oneself up to becoming a different person through the interaction. In a similar vein, relational truth engages us in the process of growth. Relationships grow and deepen. It’s not always easy, but over time two acquaintances become good friends, and both end up different from what they once were. An ever-deepening knowledge and relationship with God will makes us change the way we live – giving up the old ways of living and accepting new ways that bring even greater life (and a deeper relationship – the cycle continues). Also, in some way, we may have the same effect on God – Jacob (Gen 32:22-32) and Moses (Ex 32) both appeal to and change the will of God (who is often described propositionally as both “omniscient” and “unchanging”). Ultimately, a relational view of truth allows for God’s communication into our lives to lead to major changes: as the relationship grows, we know God better and recognize the ways that He is prompting us to change, with the ultimate goal of becoming more like Christ (Ro. 8:29).
• We were designed for relationships. They matter to us because they matter to God (whose very definition – the Trinity – is fundamentally relational). Since we are made in God’s image, we are made for relationship. (I posted on this a while back)

Investigating the vertical and horizontal role of salvation

Like in Romans, Paul goes through a brief passage in Titus 3 to explain the problems of the human condition and how God restores everything.

Verse 3 explains the issue:

For we ourselves were once foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures, passing our days in malice and envy, despicable, hating one another.

Paul explains what the life of sin entailed: we, as individuals, were captives. Being deceived (and therefore disillusioned) by our longing for passions & pleasures that do not satisfy, we were lost. But there is also a relational element to this “lostness,” a relational dynamic that sin interrupts. We lived in malice towards other people, envious of their accomplishments, and often flat-out hating each other. While often we may not describe our condition in such drastic terms, our relationships with other people are distorted and broken by our sinfulness.

So with the problem established, Paul then explains how this condition has been remedied (vv. 4-7):

⁴But when the goodness and loving-kindness of God our Savior appeared, ⁵he saved us, not because of any works of righteousness that we had done, but according to his mercy, through the water^* of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit. ⁶This Spirit he poured out on us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, ⁷so that, having been justified by his grace, we might become heirs according to the hope of eternal life. ⁸The saying is sure.

Our human relationships are broken; we are dealing with deep issues that we cannot overcome on our own. We need help, but to remedy this condition we need salvation. Often, the concept of salvation is very limited. Often, because we see God as the only agent of change, we think that this action only applies to the “me-God” relationship: being saved is all about getting right with God, and there is very little to say about how we interact with other people.

In this passage we hear all those familiar words of salvation – “mercy,” “saved,” “washing,” “justified by his grace,” “the hope of eternal life.” But within the passage it becomes clear that Paul’s view of salvation here is much different than the simple “Get right with God” message. Actually, it’s much larger and more complete than that. As it does in so many other Pauline writings, God’s act of salvation changes us, and being justified to Him is the solution to sin. The act of salvation – Christ’s atoning work – is the beginning of all change. Yes, this is a “vertical” action setting us right with God. But this change also has a clearly “horizontal” thrust as well. But it’s all unified: our horizontal relationships in verse 3 are “solved” through the restoration of our vertical one. Sin has penetrated all aspects of our life, and therefore our salvation isn’t just about us and God, it’s about us and everyone – and everything – else.

With this knowledge, Paul points us to how this new understanding changes our lives. Salvation leads to specific actions, a new way of behaving. Verse 8:

I desire that you insist on these things, so that those who have come to believe in God may be careful to devote themselves to good works; these things are excellent and profitable to everyone.

“Insisting on these things” – that is, explaining how God’s salvation works – leads to a different way of living. Knowing this encourages, or compels, followers of Jesus to “devote themselves to good works.” Our behaviors are guided by how we see the world, how we see ourselves (as restored).

Doing what is good – the basics of Christian action in the world – has often shared that similar view that salvation is all about the human-God, vertical, relationship. “Saving souls” is the key to all goodness, and Christians focus on that even as they see “this world passing away.” Relationships are secondary – once the entire society is “saved” there will be no problems with relating to other people. This simplistic view can lead to disillusionment when people are hurtful, prejudiced or not loving. Christians must work to restore these relationships, still recognizing that we are works in progress

But Paul’s treatment of this work has obvious implications at this human-to-human, horizontal, level. His is a much fuller view of Salvation. While the God-human relationship is still central to the understanding of human redemption and fulfillment, the changes that Jesus brings to life also remake and reconstitute our relationships with other people. Just as we celebrate people “getting saved,” we should seek and celebrate the restoration of broken human relationships as the work of God.