Things on Bryan's Mind has a link to a Rob Bell video called "Rain" (see It Always Rains Doesn't It). Rob Bell is a controversial pastor because he allegedly contradicts himself on the Trinity and the virgin birth. I don't know to what extent this is true, for I haven't read his book, Velvet Elvis. But I usually want to read the books that are criticized within fundamentalist and evangelical circles. It's just a tendency that I have. Maybe I got sick of evangelicals telling me "Don't read this" or "Don't take that class" when I was in college. I like to read a different take on things, for a change.
On the video, Rob Bell is walking through the woods with his baby son on his back. It starts to rain and storm, and the baby cries. Rob Bell then tells his son, "Hey, Buddy, we're going to make it." Rob Bell uses this incident to illuminate his own relationship with God. First of all, Rob Bell says it is all right to feel bad and cry out to God. Although a lot of Christians assume that we should always be happy, there are plenty of Scriptures about God reaching out to the broken-hearted and the burdened. Second, Rob Bell posits a hypothetical situation: If his son were to get therapy years down the road because of this incident, he (Rob Bell) would feel hurt, for that incident was a special time for him. He got to draw closer to his son, as he loved and comforted him. For Rob Bell, our painful experiences are times for us to draw strength from God.
Someone said that Rob Bell was picking his teeth, but I didn't see that. I listened to the video while I was doing other things on the Internet. I have a hard time focusing on only one thing.
I don't understand what would be controversial about this video. When I watched it (or, rather, listened to it), I felt as if I was at an Intervarsity meeting in which the speaker was emphasizing God's love. I usually felt blessed at those meetings, in the same way that I liked the Rob Bell video.
But, at the same time, I had the same problem with the Rob Bell video that I had at Intervarsity meetings. Allow me to explain. When I was at Harvard, I attended an Intervarsity conference on Christian community. I took my Bible with me to do my daily quiet time early in the morning. Well, I was going through Deuteronomy at the time, and the book emphasized obedience: Do this, and God will bless you. Disobey, and God will curse you.
Later that day, the speaker was talking about God's unconditional love. She compared God to her dog, who is always happy to see her. I usually felt rather upbeat after hearing those sorts of messages, but I had a hard time processing her words after my Deuteronomy quiet time. "God's love is unconditional?" I thought. "Then why does it appear so conditional in Deuteronomy, not to mention other parts of the Bible? And does God really love me like my Teddy and Penny dogs?"
My impression is that a lot of the Intervarsity types have not rigorously engaged this question. I could be wrong on this, since a big meeting may not be the place to wrestle with such a theological problem. But God's love is often just assumed in Intervarsity settings.
That brings me to another issue, and I apologize if I appear to be rambling. I was talking with a lady a few nights ago, and she was discussing the deep faith of someone she knows. "She doesn't have an evangelical conception of God," she said, "for she sees God as a loving healer." That's when I realized something: I really give evangelicals a bad rap on this blog. I must have given her the impression that the God of evangelicalism is harsh and unloving. Of course, my friend was probably basing her view also on the evangelicals she knows, who can come across as narrow-minded and judgmental. "Be this way, or you'll go to hell!" is the message that my friend got from evangelicalism.
She's partially right, but not entirely, for there are all types of evangelicals. There are many I've encountered who seem to accept their beliefs uncritically. I'm not sure if they've deeply reflected on, say, the love of God. They just assume it, and they go through life with their blissful attitude. Then there are fundamentalists and evangelicals who actually do treat God as conditionally loving. For them, God sticks with you only if you're behaving yourself. And then there are the ones who actually wrestle with their faith and offer a lot of nuggets as a result. Philip Yancey is an example of that kind of evangelical.
But I react against all kinds of evangelicals, even as I embrace all kinds. I'm actually kind of jealous of those who uncritically accept their faith in God's love. Their faith brings them genuine happiness, and they often reach out to others. I wish I could make my faith do that! For me, making my faith impact my attitude and life is a herculean effort.
To their credit, the ones who see God as conditionally loving at least take seriously the parts of Scripture about holiness and righteous living. But they either lack peace or are extremely self-righteous. I'd have a hard time having peace if I believed that God based his love for me on my behavior. I'm far from perfect, and I mean 24 hours a day. But some Christians may seek this peace by assuring themselves that they are truly righteous. After all, if you hold fast to a message that says, "You know you are truly saved by your good works and righteous living," then you may want to convince yourself of your righteousness to find any assurance at all.
And those who wrestle have their good and bad points. Sometimes, they offer jewels of wisdom. Sometimes, they offer the typical Christian apologetic spiel, as if it is fresh thinking. And then, sometimes, they reject out of hand the typical Christian spiel, only to offer a spiel of their own that doesn't really satisfy me. They fail to realize that even the typical spiel contains some wisdom. If you are annoyed with me right now as you read this paragraph, then you probably know how I feel about some evangelical intellectuals. So I guess I'm annoyed with people like me, even as I like them!
But back to Rob Bell. I like the idea of walking with God through painful experiences. I may have problems with him allowing those experiences in the first place, but they do give me an opportunity to draw closer to him. After all, this life is a vapor anyway, along with all that happens in it. What's important eternally is my relationship with God and my character. If pain can place me in a position where I cry out to God and sympathize with others, then it's worth having. I can only speak about my own pain here, however, and I am reluctant to tell others to do the same thing, since their experiences may be worse than mine. But I will say this: In his book Prayer: Does It Make a Difference?, Philip Yancey talks about a Jew in a Nazi concentration camp who was enjoying his journey with God, in spite of all the hell around him. Going through hell with a friend can give one joy.
I once did that, but something happened along the way that stole my joy. When I first went to Harvard, I had a hard time clicking with people, and so I tended to withdraw. I had a lot of social anxiety, and I didn't know what to say in social situations. I also felt intellectually inadequate. Therefore, I avoided certain people and spent most of my time in the library.
But, strangely enough, I could feel happiness in the midst of my solitude and isolation. I continually sang praise and worship songs to myself. I prayed and read my Bible on a regular basis. On occasion, I helped other people.
There I was in my bliss, and a fundamentalist friend of mine ruined it for me. He told me that God wants me to have a social life, and that I should imitate Jesus by reaching out to others. Well, I tried it, and I just got nervous. It wasn't ME. And so I withdrew. I felt somewhat comfortable in my withdrawal, but I also thought that I was disobeying God. Consequently, I was reluctant to sing praise and worship songs throughout the day. After all, wasn't I deluding myself by singing praise songs? Should I sing praises to God, when I was disobeying his will? Isn't that inconsistent and hypocritical? I still prayed, since I believed that I needed some connection with God to become a better person. But I had lost a complete sense that God is my friend along my rough journey.
Of course, there are evangelicals who will then say, "Come on! God loves you! He doesn't reject you because you're an introvert. He made you that way!" Perhaps, but what about people who have homosexual inclinations (which does not include me, but I'm trying to make a point here)? They have a certain preference--they like the same sex, not the opposite sex. Did God make them that way? Should we expect them to change something that they cannot help? If so, does that mean that I should become an extrovert? After all, I've heard some evangelicals say that introversion is selfishness, while extroversion is love, and, of course, we are supposed to be loving.
I hope you got something out of this post, even if it's a tad bit long. Please feel free to offer any insights that you may have. I may not agree with every thought that I read, but I do consider it worth reading. Have a nice day!