Book Write-Up: Blue Like Jazz, by Donald Miller

Donald Miller.  Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality.  Nashville: Thomas Nelson Publishers, 2003.

I saw the movie Blue Like Jazz over a year ago (see here), so I was a bit reluctant to read the book.  The movie was about a Christian named Don who attended the ultra-liberal Reed College in Portland, Oregon.  The movie had some good parts but also a lot of silliness and parts that I did not find particularly interesting.  I think of that student who dressed up like the Pope and was throwing Don’s books into a fire.  The book was on the shelf of my church’s library, and I decided to read it because I figured that, even if it was like the movie, perhaps it would provide reflection that would appeal to me, or narrate the events in such a way that I would understand and appreciate them better.  After all, the concept of a Christian student attending Reed College and building bridges with the non-believing students there does intrigue me, plus I have heard good things about Donald Miller from people who see things like I do, more or less (i.e., infatuated with aspects of Christianity, yet disillusioned with conservative Christianity).

The book was hardly anything like the movie.  Yes, Don in the book does attend Reed College, and there are some similarities between the book and the movie: the Christian students setting up a confessional where the Christians confess their sins to those who come in, and a young woman named Penny at Reed who is a leftist and a Christian.  But the movie had so much that the book did not (i.e., the affair between Donald’s mother and her pastor, the student dressed as the Pope, etc.).  And the book had a lot that was not in the movie, plus many of the book’s scenes were not even related to Don’s time at Reed College.  Donald Miller was a co-writer for the screenplay, so I wonder how much of the movie reflects things that happened that Miller decided not to include in the book.  Overall, though, I liked the book much better.

The first half of the book was all right.  There was some silliness that I had to endure, but there were parts that I enjoyed, even if they were a bit dogmatic.  There were also parts with which I disagreed.  Donald Miller recounts a time that he went to a bookstore to hear a trendy Christian writer, and Donald did not care for how the writer was drawing from aspects of Islam and incorporating them into his own spirituality.  Donald, and a Christian friend of his, considered that to be a trivialization of Islam, even a rape of Islam!  Personally, I do not see why it is so problematic to draw from the wisdom of other religious traditions, just as long as I remember and appreciate that they came from a context that is not my own.

While I only somewhat liked the first half of the book, I loved the second half.  Donald was a lot more vulnerable there.  He opened up about his social struggles in dating, his introversion, the perils (yet the temptation) that can come from living alone, and his halting attempts to live in community, as he desired his personal space but also wanted to be liked.  What he said about living alone and living in community is something that I will take into consideration but not necessarily use as an absolute “Thus saith the Lord” on how I should live my own life.  I do agree with Miller that living alone can lead to self-absorption and impair one’s ability to interact with others, but I have had more than one experience of living in community that did not exactly lead to the “happily ever after” that Miller depicts in his own life.  I like what I have now—-I live with people, yet I am given my space (though I do have to remind myself to think about “us” and not just “me”).  Plus, I think that a person can live alone, yet find ways to interact with the outside world (i.e., church, friendships).

The second half of the book also had hilarious stories.  I think of the story of the biker who taught Donald about the importance of tithing, even though this biker rarely attended church.  There was also the story of how Donald found love and acceptance in a hippie commune, then he went to a Christian camp and really had to struggle to make the transition.  His interaction with the female student from the ultra-conservative Bob Jones University made me laugh out loud!  The lady asked if Donald had a razor so he could shave, and Donald said he didn’t know where it was.  Donald narrates: “‘You don’t know where your stuff is?’ she asked, obviously coming from a primitive, materialistic, territorial paradigm” (page 212).

Miller talks throughout the book about what the students at Reed College taught him—-the importance of social justice and caring about people.  My favorite passage about Reed College, though, was when Donald talked about how he was helping a student move in, and the student talked like Elmer Fudd, but was brilliant in science.  (I think of that character on The Big Bang Theory!)  Donald reflects about a time when he was at a pastor’s conference and he was asked about the immorality at Reed College (i.e., sex, drugs), and Donald thought to himself that he did not consider Reed to be an immoral place.  People at Reed did not make fun of that student who talked like Elmer Fudd but appreciated his potential, whereas at least someone at Donald’s church probably would make fun of that student behind his back.

Donald Miller is often characterized as an Emergent writer, which I take to mean a liberal evangelical.  Brian McLaren, a key figure in the Emergent movement, has an endorsement of the book at the beginning.  I was surprised, therefore, to see Donald praising Mark the cussing pastor who has a church in Seattle.  Donald does not explicitly identify him as Mark Driscoll, but I wonder who else it could be.  Mark Driscoll was critical of the Emerging movement, and many Emergents did not care for Mark Driscoll, seeing him as a misogynist authoritarian jerk.  But Miller depicts Mark the cussing pastor as a friend, whose church reached out to liberals and artsy types.  Miller saw Mark’s church as a refreshing step up from the right-wing churches that Miller attended before then.  Overall, while Miller is critical of the right-wing, he does humanize certain right-wing Christians.  I think of his story about Bill Bright, founder of Campus Crusade for Christ.  When Bright was asked what Jesus meant to him, Bright broke down and cried.

The book had many more stories that I did not include in this review.  It is a good book.

Mark Driscoll on Unbelievable

I was recently listening to Justin Brierley's interview of Christian pastor Mark Driscoll.  I realize that this is old news, since the program Unbelievable featured the interview on January 14, 2012.  But I usually get to things long after they've made their splash!

To be honest with you, I didn't have much of a problem with what Driscoll was saying, until the end of the program.  Then, I couldn't stand what he was saying.  Up to that point, he sounded pretty reasonable to me, at least overall.  His statement that husbands and wives should both work on being attractive to one another struck me as common sense.  In response to Justin's question of whether or not his approach caters to certain kinds of men while excluding the artsy, intellectual types, Driscoll noted that his ministry was thriving in Seattle, which is an artsy, intellectual area.  Driscoll also seemed to be trying to dispel any notion that he continually gets behind the pulpit saying extreme things, for he said that his sermons mostly go through the Bible.  I can somewhat testify that this is the case (or might be the case), for I remember visiting Driscoll's web site to listen to his sermons.  I had just seen YouTube clips of him criticizing The Shack and Joel Osteen, and I was expecting to see more of that sort of thing.  Instead, I saw Mark Driscoll talking about the Gospel of Luke, and what he was saying wasn't particularly extreme.

Near the end of Justin's interview, however, Driscoll was getting confrontational, in response to what he believed was Justin's confrontational interview-style.  Driscoll grilled Justin on the church where Justin's wife is a pastor, asking how many single young men have come to Christ there.  Driscoll inquired if they were "strong" men.  Whereas earlier in the interview Driscoll seemed to be open to including the artsy, intellectual types, now he appeared to be implying that churches should cater to a specific type of male.  Driscoll asked Justin if Justin believed in conscious, eternal torment in hell.  Driscoll was saying that a no answer presents God as a mother-like figure, whereas a yes answer would portray God as a tough, protecting father.  When Justin responded that he believes in annihilationism, Driscoll accused Justin of being timid and weak in terms of standing up for the truth.

I was disgusted by what Driscoll was saying in those last few minutes of the interview.  For one, while I sympathize with Driscoll's burden to reach out to certain kinds of men----the tough, strong types----I question whether the church should cater specifically to them, and not to others.  Driscoll may deny that he wants to do that----I don't know----but he seemed in those last few minutes of the interview to be implying that the church should be presenting a tough Daddy-God, as opposed to a soft, accepting Mommy-God.
Second, why is Justin's belief in annihilationism a sign of timidity?  Timidity is being afraid to stand up for one's beliefs, not failure to stand up for beliefs that one does not even hold.  Maybe Justin is not standing up boldly for conscious eternal torment because he does not believe in it (and who can blame him, since it is a disgusting, revolting doctrine?), not because he is timid.

Third, how exactly does the notion of eternal torment in hell, depict God as a protecting, tough-but-fair father?  How many tough-but-fair fathers would torment people for all eternity, if they had a chance?  Eternal torment is neither tough in a disciplinary sense (since it is not disciplinary but retributive, and it leaves no possibility for the condemned to repent in the afterlife), nor does it strike me as particularly fair.

The contrast between the fair-minded, reasonable, more inclusive Mark Driscoll throughout much of the interview, and the guy who showed up near the interview's end, makes me wonder which is the real Mark Driscoll.  And is our real self when we are being reasonable, or when we're expressing our impressions?  Or is our real self a combination of the two?

Wisdom from Josh McDowell on Unbelievable

As of late, I haven't been able to get enough of the radio program Unbelievable?, a Christian British program that is hosted by Justin Brierley.  Brierley has on prominent Christian apologists, scholars, and thinkers, as well as non-believing writers and scholars.  Among some of the guests who have appeared on the program are William Lane Craig, Rob Bell, Mark Driscoll, Bart Erhman, atheist John Loftus, John Hick, and the list goes on.  (I've also enjoyed listening to guests whose names I did not know previously, but who have interesting things to say: I think of Holly Ordway, an academic, who wrote a book about her conversion from atheism to Christianity, and who is updating that book because of her later conversion to Catholicism.)  The program has also had episodes about world religions, in which Christians discuss (say) Islam or Buddhism with a Muslim or a Buddhist.

What particularly impresses me is that the discussions are generally respectful.  Yesterday, for example, I was listening to an episode about the religious right, which had on a British Christian who was a socialist, a British gentleman who was part of a political party that is socially conservative yet economically progressive, the emergent Christian Brian McLaren, and someone from the right-wing American Family Association.  You would expect for sparks to fly on that episode, and, on some level, they did!  But each of the guests made reasonable, albeit different, points, and, overall, they seemed to me to be respectful to one another.  It was an intelligent conversation, not a shouting match!

I was listening to one of the programs, and it had on the Christian apologist Josh McDowell, as well as a skeptic.  I was rolling my eyes at a lot of McDowell's arguments (especially the one about Jesus fulfilling a bunch of prophecies), but I had to admire his skill as a debater.  He knows his spiel and how to articulate it!  Anyway, after experiencing the ordeal of listening to him mop up the floor with the skeptic (who asked valid questions, but who I wished had manifested more familiarity with the relevant issues, while making his points in a crisper manner), I suddenly heard McDowell say something that changed my outlook on life for the rest of the day.  He was saying that it's his responsibility to tell people about Jesus, but that it is up to them what to do in response to that.  And, he went on, even if a person chooses not to believe in Jesus, that will not affect how he treats that person, for that person is created in the image of God and deserves respect and love.

That really ministered to me.  I am the sort of person who cannot stand a lot of people, especially people who see things differently from me.  But McDowell was sharing another way of seeing the situation: I should respect people's right to make their own decisions, and how I treat them should not be conditional on whether they do or see things my way.  Revolutionary, isn't it?  Well, right now, I think I can do that, but who knows if that sentiment will last!

Addicted to One's Own Glory vs. Living for God's Glory

I was reading through blogger and pastor Morgan Guyton's archives yesterday.  There's usually something in his posts that really resonates with me, whether or not I agree with everything he's saying.  It's like he has had many of the same questions that I do, and he has found constructive ways to address them.

In his May 20, 2011 post, God's holiness and hospitality, Morgan says the following:

"For those who have been stomped on by the world, I can understand the attraction of Revelation’s bowls of wrath and trumpets of rage against the seemingly invincible social order. How is God hospitable to those whom we ignore and mistreat? Does he have to smash a bottle on our heads to get us to shut up and let somebody else talk? What does God do about the people who need to be the center of attention when the only way to throw a perfect eternal party is for God to be the center of attention because He can handle the attention?"

I especially liked the part about how God should be the center of attention because he can actually handle it!
What Morgan said there reminded me of one of Mark Driscoll's twitter updates (although I gather than Morgan is not exactly a fan of Mark Driscoll!).  Driscoll said (see here):

"Most people are miserable because they're addicted to their own glory & they're not getting it. Living for God's glory is the way to joy."

I'm sure that people can take issue with what Mark Driscoll said, and how he said it.  I for one would be very hesitant to say that something is true of "Most people", since I don't know most people.  Moreover, there are many people who are miserable because they're clinically depressed, not because they're disappointed that they're not being glorified enough.  That said, I identified with what Mark Driscoll wrote because I feel that it describes me: I'm often miserable because I want to be affirmed or praised, and I'm disappointed when I don't get that affirmation or praise that I desire or think I deserve.

The question is this: How can I live for God's glory?  What does that mean?  Going back to Morgan's quote, sure, I'd hope that I would lay aside my desire for people to pay attention to me and let everyone pay attention to God, if God were in the room!  And maybe God is in the room.  But all I see are the people!  And, that being the case, I see us all as competing for attention.

Overall, living for God's glory may entail thinking more about God (God's beauty, God's love), and thinking more about others.  The challenge, for me, is figuring out how to do so.  I can think more about God by reading the Bible.  But, right now, I'm reading about Solomon's power struggles in I Kings 1-2.  How is that an inspiring way for me to think about God?  Well, maybe it isn't.  At the same time, I do have a degree of empathy for Solomon, who was trying to rule, amidst shrewd and high-ranking people who did not even want him as king.  When I can sympathize and empathize with someone who feels vulnerable, that, in my mind, is a positive step.  But is it good enough? 

I feel obliged to list other ways to live for God's glory: service work, helping others, and listening to others' stories.

Driscoll on Nagging, Word Studies, and Complementarianism

Pastor Mark Driscoll of Mars Hill Church has made a couple of controversial statements recently.  This post linked to a sermon that he delivered on Ephesians 5:22-23.  In the sermon, Driscoll criticizes wives who nag, and he also appears to express a problem with Greek word studies, as he talks about the word "submit" in Ephesian 5:22 ("Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord").  Driscoll says:

"'What does that mean in the Greek, Pastor Mark?' You can always tell a rebel­lious evan­gel­i­cal. They do word stud­ies. They try to go to the Greek and fig­ure out if it per­haps means some­thing else. I’ll just read, OK."

The title of the blog post is "Mark Driscoll doesn’t want you to study the Bible".  But that's not entirely true.  Driscoll later in the sermon encourages people to go home and study their Bibles.  But Driscoll then goes on to speak against people looking for biblical scholars who would tell them what they want to hear, so they can avoid obeying God's command.

I listened to Driscoll's sermon.  I don't have much of a problem with him criticizing nagging.  As Driscoll said, he criticizes husbands, too.  In most relationships, people have to work on issues for the relationship to go well, and it can be irritating to men when their wives are continually nagging them.  That doesn't mean that all wives nag.  It just means that nagging may be something to work on in a relationship.  But I'm just saying this based on my own understanding of what Driscoll said.

On Driscoll's comments about rebellious evangelicals who do word studies, I do find that to be anti-intellectual.  Or, if you don't care for intellectuals and see them as snobs, let me say that I find Driscoll's comment to be anti-learning.  How's that?  I am leery when pastors juxtapose an emphasis on authority with a discouragement of learning.  That turns me off from organized religion.

As far as the sermon as a whole went, it had some good stuff.  Driscoll talked about love and commitment within marriage.  He said that people should love their spouse rather than wanting to get married for companionship or sex.  And he said that complementarianism does not assume that women lack minds of their own, for he affirmed that his wife has disagreed with him through the years, and that he wants for his daughters to grow up to become confident women.

The thing is, what sounds all right to me may not sound all right to a number of other people.  I was one time in a Bible study group, and the leader was a complementarian.  The leader said continually that the husband should love and serve his wife.  That sounded good to me!  Why have equality, when the husband is taking into consideration his wife's feelings and needs and is loving and serving her?  But that didn't sound quite right to an atheist friend of mine.  My atheist friend said that sounded like a benevolent dictatorship!

Complementarianism may sound all right to me, a man.  But suppose I were a woman?  I know there are a number of women who are complementarians, so I'm not sure what my stance would be if I were a woman.  I can picture myself leaning towards the egalitarian position.  I'm all for being cooperative with people and open to their ideas and opinions, and even to serving them.  But saying that the man has authority over me and that what he says goes (remember, this is if I were a woman, which I'm not)?  I'd have problems with that. 

Accountability and Individuality

For my write-up today on my church's service this morning, I'll use as my starting-point a question that was part of the service of installing a new deacon: "Will you be governed by our church's polity, and will you abide by its discipline?"

The terms "discipline" and "accountability" within evangelical Christianity give me the creeps.  They sound authoritarian to me.  They sound like they repress human individuality.  I seriously doubt that my church takes these concepts in an abusive and authoritarian direction.  But there are settings within conservative Christianity in which these concepts have been abused.

And, to be honest, I don't think that such concepts are abused only within conservative Christianity.  They're also abused by liberal or progressive Christians (not all, but some of them).  I recently read a post that argued that Mark Driscoll should be accountable to the larger Christian body on the Internet when it comes to his offensive tweets.  I am far from being a Mark Driscoll fan, and I certainly believe that people should feel free to criticize him.  I also hope that Driscoll, as a Christian, will recognize why his comments are offensive and will reach out to those who feel hurt by them.  But he's entitled to his own opinion.  I don't think that he's obligated to check his individuality at the door of Christian "accountability".  I don't agree with Driscoll's belief that President Barack Obama is not a true Christian (not that I think that Obama's religion has anything to do with how well he governs), but that's Driscoll's opinion, and he has a right to express it.  "But that makes Christianity look bad", one could argue.  Do you know what makes Christianity look bad?  The way that it tries to pressure people to think and act the same way, in the name of "discipline", "accountability", and "witness".

I one time read a conservative Christian lady say that, if a blogger sees her blog as a ministry, that blog should be supervised by the blogger's pastor.  Hogwash!  That blogger has a right to be an individual and to express her own thoughts on her blog, without having to get the approval of any pastor.  Why are there religions that are so authoritarian?

Hermeneutical Questions After Last Night's Bible Study

My church started its Fall Bible study yesterday.  We're going through A Fragile Stone, Peter: Jesus' Friend. 

I'm having a hard time writing today.  Maybe it's because I'm tired after seeing Barack Obama do so poorly in last night's debate.  I myself feel rather listless right now.  And, when that is the case, trying to say everything exactly right becomes a challenge.  So I'll grant myself some leeway in this post and just write what comes to my mind, whether or not it makes sense or is completely fair and accurate.  It will probably be like Painter Smurf splashing paint on his canvas and calling that art!

I've been having positive thoughts about Jesus lately.  One reason is that I listened to that Mark Driscoll sermon on Esther a few days ago----in which Driscoll presents Jesus as a benevolent king----and I was drawn to that picture of Jesus.  Then, last night at Bible study, I was thumbing through our course book, and there was a part of it in which Michael Card (who is the author, sort of) is said to have stated on the DVD that he feels more drawn to worship Jesus when he reads that Jesus served his disciples breakfast, than he'd feel if Jesus were surrounded by a host of angels.  That's pretty powerful, isn't it?  Jesus the servant.  It's an elementary concept, but one that I'm happy to be reminded of as I go through this Bible study.

It's tempting to embrace some form of emotional evangelicalism----one that accepts without ambiguity that Jesus was the Messiah and that the Hebrew Bible points to him, one that views the Bible as without error, one that seeks to harmonize biblical contradictions, etc.  As I was thinking about this last night, my mind wandered to how evangelical preachers I heard tried to explain the difference between a guilt offering and a sin offering in the Book of Leviticus.  I don't remember exactly what they said, but I remembered that, when I first heard their explanation, it sounded to me like a stretch----that it wasn't based on anything explicit in the text itself.  I wondered if embracing an emotional evangelicalism would essentially require me to check my brain at the door----to disregard that the writings of the Hebrew Bible are diverse and reflect their historical contexts, in many cases overlapping with ancient Near Eastern culture.  But then I thought about the importance of sticking with the text.  I don't have to try to reconcile the text with some faith conviction about it.  I should just let the text be the text.  But that is emotionally drier than inhabiting the world of emotional evangelicalism.

But then here's where things get tricky.  The text often is not explicit.  We were sensitized to that last night at Bible study.  The curriculum was asking us how we thought Peter felt when such-and-such happened.  The fact is, however, that we're not told how Peter felt.  I'd say it's fun to speculate, but one lady in the group seemed to think that it was idle to speculate about what we're not told explicitly.

But, in many cases, we almost have to speculate to get anywhere with the text, or to do anything with it.  For example, after Jesus in Luke 5 performed a miracle in which Peter caught a whole bunch of fish, Peter asked Jesus to depart from him, for Peter was a sinful man.  Why?  We're not told explicitly.  And so we went through different possibilities.  Michael Card's explanation was rather elliptical: he said that Peter was afraid of unlimited success, and so Jesus responded to that concern by telling Peter that Peter would be a fisher of men.  Say what?  Was Card suggesting that Peter feared that success would corrupt him----perhaps make him proud----and so Jesus was proposing service as a solution to that?  I'm not sure.  Someone in the group made the suggestion that Peter was afraid of having access to that much power, for Peter feared that he would misuse it.  And the curriculum also suggested that Peter felt grossly inadequate in the face of the divine----and I'd say that this does not necessarily mean that Peter at that moment regarded Jesus as God, but Peter could have recognized that Jesus was part of the work of God, and Peter was in the presence of that when Jesus did the miracle.  I thought that the group's speculation over this question was rather fruitful.  It's good to have ambiguity, because that makes discussions possible.   But it was speculation.  And yet, I'd say that there are some speculations that are better than others.  For example, saying that Peter felt inadequate in the face of the divine makes sense, for there are plenty of times in the Hebrew Bible in which people feel inadequate before the divine.  Luke could be drawing from that motif.

Here's an area in which my warm feelings about Jesus conflicted with my scholarly reading of the text: We were asked in the curriculum if we were willing to die to self and take up our cross and follow Jesus.  I checked that passage, and it was talking about martyrdom, then there followed the passage in which Jesus told his disciples that some standing there wouldn't taste death until they saw the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.  First of all, I wondered how that text could even be applicable to us, since we're not in danger of martyrdom----at least not where we are sitting (and I'm talking about those of us in that group, and probably most Christians in the United States).  But I did not ask that question out loud.  Second, I was reminded of the whole problem of imminent eschatology----Jesus appears to predict that the end was near, but the problem with that is that it's two thousand years later, and world paradise still has not come.  And third, I was reminded that, yes, there is the nice, warm Jesus in the Gospels, and yet there's also the fierce apocalyptic Jesus, who somewhat scares me.  Can I get over my aversions to Jesus in the synoptic Gospels?
In any case, this will probably be a thought-provoking study.  We'll see how it turns out!

Mark Driscoll, Rachel Held Evans, and Skyler-Daniel on Esther

I just listened to a Mark Driscoll sermon, and, much to my surprise, I actually liked it.  That doesn't mean that I agreed with everything that he said or how he said it, but overall, I found it encouraging, for he was presenting Jesus as a loving king, and God as one who walks with us, even when we are not walking with him.  Driscoll also projected an attitude of humility, as he admitted that there were areas in which he couldn't be dogmatic on account of the lack of explicit details in the Book of Esther, and as he also acknowledged that he himself had moral flaws, just like all of us.  Click here to listen to the sermon.

The sermon is part of Driscoll's series on the Book of Esther.  I learned about it from a post on Rachel Held Evans' site, where she links to it (see here) and offers her critique and evaluation.  As I read Rachel's characterization of what Driscoll said in that sermon, I was angry at Driscoll, for I thought that he was being the judgmental, authoritarian jerk I believed him to be (based on things I have read and heard from him and others----not personally, but through online sources such as YouTube, Driscoll's web-site, people who once went to Driscoll's church, etc.).  I was thinking of writing an anti-Driscoll post, but I decided to listen to his sermon so that my criticisms could be fair.  But, to my surprised, my reaction was not entirely negative. 

In his sermon, Driscoll portrayed Esther as worldly and hypocritical because she did not refuse to enter Xerxes' harem, she ate unclean foods in violation of the Torah, she and Mordechai were not among the returnees to Jerusalem (thereby violating God's command through Isaiah for the Jews to go back to Israel), and she (like Mordechai) had a pagan name and concealed her Jewish identity.  But Rachel's response was that Esther and Mordechai were not able to refuse Xerxes' command because they'd be killed if they did so, and also that Esther displayed piety when she called for a fast.
 
Who is right?  To his credit, Driscoll used arguments to justify his position that Esther and Mordecai could have said no to the king.  He said that there are other characters in the Bible who say no to the king.  Sometimes, they're arrested, and sometimes they're not.  But saying no to a king is not unheard of in the Bible.  Driscoll also noted that, in the Book of Esther itself, Vashti said no to the king and was merely expelled from his presence, not killed. 

Driscoll's point that Esther and Mordecai compromised with their foreign surroundings and should have returned to the land of Israel is understandable, at least from the standpoint of how he as a conservative Christian sees the Bible.  In the Bible that is before us, God in Second Isaiah exhorted the exiled Israelites to return to their land, a lot of Israelites stayed behind in exile, and thus (when you juxtapose these things together) the Israelites who stayed behind were disobeying the will of God.  From a historical-critical standpoint, I have doubts that the situation was that simple.  How easy was it in those days to uproot oneself and one's family and go to a faraway land, especially when (in the case of Esther) we're talking about some time after Cyrus' decree of return?  And, just because a prophet was proclaiming what he thought was God's will, that doesn't mean that everyone was on the same page and regarded his words as what God wanted.  But Driscoll does well to highlight that the issue of assimilation was pressing in the Diaspora, and a number of scholars have maintained that most Jews stayed behind in exile because they had prospered there and made lives for themselves.  If Driscoll wants to make that into a sermon point for a conservative Christian audience, then that's understandable.  I don't fault him for that.

But I can also see Rachel's point.  Granted, Esther and Mordechai could have refused the king's command, but what good would they have done to themselves or others if the king executed them for that?  There are times to take bold moral stands, and there are times when it's not worth it at a given time, and it's perhaps more prudent to wait for another day.  After I listened to Driscoll, I read through the comments under Rachel's post, and I especially appreciated the comment by Skyler-Daniel, which took into consideration Driscoll's points, yet took them in a different direction.  Skyler-Daniel said:

"Esther, in my mind, is a story about compromise and negotiating religious boundaries. This is why folks like Mark Driscoll simply cannot read it without screwing up the story fundamentally--compromise is a dirty word, especially if it[']s a woman. In a sense, Esther is a terrible Jew... she doesn't pray, hides her religious identity, and marries a Gentile... she does nothing to separate herself as a Jew. But the story shows how...the complicated situation in which she (and story's Jewish audience) found herself...necessitates compromise and a careful shifting of religious values for the greater good.  Which is more important? Not eating kosher meat or saving hundreds of thousands of Jews? Esther is our heroine who shows us a way in a messy world!"

In any case, I found it edifying to think about the story of Esther today, as I read and heard a variety of perspectives.

Slate: Mars Hill PR and Marketing Manager Defends Church Discipline Policy

Slate has an article on church discipline at Mark Driscoll's Mars Hill Church (see here for background and links). What is interesting in this article is that it contains the point-of-view of Justin Dean, the PR and marketing manager of Mars Hill. Here are some passages:

"One key element that was not clear in Andrew’s original account, Dean told me, was that the letter was intended to be read aloud, not posted online, and only to a 'handful' of people. Instead, the group leader received unclear instructions and posted the letter online, a move Dean insists was not meant to hurt Andrew. Furthermore, says Dean, only the approximately 15 members of Andrew’s small group, who met regularly and knew one another well, had access to the letter on the City. (Though Andrew was blocked from accessing the City, he says the letter was available to a slightly wider circle, including his fellow security volunteers.) 'His case was not shared with the full church and had, until he posted it publicly online, only been known by a handful of people who were involved in his life and cared deeply about him,' Dean said. (Confusing social-media privacy settings strike again!) He added that Driscoll was not involved in the case at all. Mars Hill currently has 5,417 members and just nine ongoing church discipline cases."

"Dean says that the church would welcome reconciliation with Andrew, but Mars Hill is not backing down from its strict definition of repentance. The unspoken implication seems to be that Mars Hill itself has done nothing it needs to repent from. Dean describes Andrew as 'a man who cheated on his fiancee, lied about it, and only confessed after being pressed about suspicious details.'"

Dean is probably right that only a limited number of people were intended to have access to the letter. Whether or not that's what happened, well, I don't know. But I don't really buy Dean's characterization of Andrew as someone who "cheated on his fiancee, lied about it, and only confessed after being pressed about suspicious details." Andrew's story was that he told a leader of his small group about what he did, and that's what commenced the process of meetings and (eventually) church discipline. If Andrew did not come forward and confess at the outset, as he relates, then how did leaders at Mars Hill even know that Andrew cheated on his fiancee? I doubt that they had a camera in his room monitoring his every move! I think it's more likely that Andrew confessed at the outset, and Mars Hill leaders then disciplined him because he did not strike them as repentant enough. I'm not saying that Dean is lying. Perhaps Dean means that Andrew had to be prompted to give further details about his deed. But Dean should have made that clearer, if that's what he meant.

Mars Hill Responds on Church Discipline

Mark Driscoll’s Mars Hill Church has responded to the controversy about its church discipline policy. See here. It has chosen not to discuss Andrew’s specific situation, “as this is a private matter between church leadership and members, all of whom have voluntarily agreed to this prior to becoming members.“ But it does include a chapter on church discipline from Mark Driscoll’s book, Vintage Church.

To be honest, I read parts of the chapter, while I merely scanned other parts. That being the case, I probably would not become a member of Mars Hill Church if I had to live under this church discipline policy, for there are parts of the chapter about waiving confidentiality and being disciplined for “heeding solely false teachers”. The former can open to door to blackmail or gossip. The latter strikes me as an attempt at mind-control.

But I did find that I sympathized with some of what Mark Driscoll was saying. If a member is an adulterer and comes to a church service with his Christian girlfriend, when his wife and kids are at the very same service (which Mark Driscoll says happened in a church that he attended), then that is a problem. If a church member is abusing kids in the church, then the legal authorities should be notified. I also appreciated Driscoll’s distinction between sin that should be confronted and sin that can be overlooked in love (i.e., getting irritable with one’s spouse on a few occasions may not justify bringing church discipline into the equation).

The Stranger on Mars Hill Church

A Seattle newspaper known as The Stranger has an article by Brendan Kiley about Mark Driscoll’s Mars Hill Church in Seattle. It’s entitled Church or Cult? The Control-Freaky Ways of Mars Hill Church. It includes Andrew’s story (see here), other stories, and part of a response by a Mars Hill pastor. I realize that there are two sides to every story, but I tend to shy away from any church that stresses “authority” or “submission”. Granted, church leaders have a right (within reason) to run their churches as they see fit, and, if I were to be a member or an attendee, I would have to accept their rules. But I would not join a church where the leaders are so insecure that they have to harp on “authority” and “submission” to get people to respect them.

Josh's Balanced Post on the Mark Driscoll Controversy

Here is a relatively balanced post on Mark Driscoll at Joel Watts’ blog, Unsettled Christianity. It’s by Josh, a doctoral student in sociology. I am definitely a part of the anti-Driscoll crowd that Josh discusses (even though I have occasionally written positive things about Mark Driscoll). Some of that is based on things that I have seen or read Mark Driscoll say, which comes across to me as pompous, narrow-minded, dogmatic, and controlling. Some of that comes from my own negative experiences with evangelicalism, which have nothing to do with Mark Driscoll specifically, but which come to my mind whenever I see Mark Driscoll perpetuate his macho brand of Christianity, or tell people to believe such-and-such, or promote accountability within small groups.

I agree with Josh that Mars Hill church, broadly speaking, is probably not a cult. It’s most likely like a lot of evangelical megachurches. If I were to go to Seattle and to visit the services, I seriously doubt that I would be pressured to do anything—-or that people there would notice me at all. Consequently, I should not judge people who go to Mars Hill—-and I won’t, as long as they don’t get in my face telling me what I should do.

Moreover, perhaps not every small group at Mars Hill is bad. People can probably have rewarding experiences at Mars Hill’s small groups. And yet, even though Josh is correct that we have only read Andrew’s side of the story (for background, see the links here), and that there’s a likelihood that a miscommunication was going on (and I’d say what tips me off to that is that Andrew feels that he repented, whereas the church officials get the impression that he has not), the controlling tone of the repentance contract and the notice to the church’s social community that Andrew is being disciplined turn me off from wanting to be a part of a church like Mars Hill, or any evangelical church that stresses small groups and accountability. Sure, I do not have to judge the entire movement. But I can decide for myself where I want to go when it comes to church.

Josh had good advice, both for those who are anti-Driscoll, and also for those who are pro-Driscoll (perhaps because they go to his church). The post is worth the read.

Leslie Keeney on Mark Driscoll's Definition of Successful Ministry

I’ve been enjoying Leslie Keeney’s posts on Joel Watts’ blog (see here), and so I was pleased to learn that she has her own blog, the ruthless monk. Leslie is a graduate student at Liberty University, where she is pursuing a Masters of Philosophical Studies.

In a recent post, Why Our Definition of “Successful Ministry” Is Problematic, Leslie takes aim at some remarks that Mark Driscoll made in an interview with Justin Brierley. Here are some excerpts from her post:

“At one point in the interview with Bierley, Driscoll berates the UK church for being cowards. As proof of this cowardice, Driscoll demands that the Brierley ‘name one, good Bible teacher that is know across Britain. You don’t have one, that is the problem.’ Then, later in the interview when Brierley revealed that his wife pastors a church, Driscoll responds by asking about the size of the church ‘You look at your results,’ he says ‘and you look at my results and look at the variable that is the most obvious.’

“Now, several bloggers that I read (and probably many more that I don’t) recognized the obvious cultural biases in these statements. To Driscoll—and thousands like him—the ‘success’ of any church or ministry is measured by the number of people saved and the number of celebrity preachers created. I would go one step further and say that not only do most U.S. churches see growth and celebrity as proof of success, but that many of these same people assume that our standard of success must, necessarily, be the measure of success used by the rest of the world. In his hubris, Driscoll reveals the American church’s self-centered belief that our model of church should be the model for the church universal…

“We can all name any number of ‘successful’ celebrity pastors who espouse bad theology. We can also all name any number of charismatic non-Christians throughout history with huge followings and evil intentions. History demonstrates over and over again that being famous and influential is not evidence that a person is speaking the truth…

“In response to the Driscoll dust-up, Andrew Jones posted a wonderful piece about the differences between American and UK churches. In addition to being a world traveler with first-person experience in a wide variety of Christian communities around the world, Andrew lived in both the US and the UK for several years. In his post ‘The English Church that went up a Mountain, but came down a Hill,’ Andrew lists several significant differences between the two countries, including a suspicion of religious celebrities. According to Andrew, the Fresh Expressions movement in the UK has established 3000 Christian communities in the last few years, they just haven’t produced a ‘big-name’ teacher. By American standards, is this a ‘successful’ ministry?”

Well said, Leslie.

Andrew's Brother, Stephen, on Rigid Doctrines and Real-life People

I wrote yesterday about Andrew’s experience with church “discipline” at Mark Driscoll’s Mars Hill Church, which has been a prominent topic of discussion throughout the Internet over the past few days. On Matthew Paul Turner’s site, there is an excellent piece by Andrew’s brother Stephen. Stephen makes a point that, in my opinion, is important and poignant:

“One reason I count Lars von Trier’s 2003 film Dogville, starring Nicole Kidman and Paul Bettany, as one of my favorite films, one I’m constantly recommending, is because I see a part of myself in the character played by Bettany, someone more interested in hypothetical situations and ideas than in how they affect the real flesh-and-blood people surrounding him, with the tragic consequences playing out on the stage over the three hours von Trier takes to tell the story. It is one of my biggest regrets today, when I look back at the years I was a fundamentalist, that when my mother was struggling with the idea of divorce from my father – an action she had been counseled to take by multiple sources for legal purposes, partly so that his inevitable future financial troubles would not destroy the new life she was trying to piece together – that I was for a long time strongly opposed to it, because, I was sure, ‘the Bible is clear.’ It didn’t matter that this course of action was only considered after God, my father said, had told him to kill her and us kids, or that a judge had already issued a permanent restraining order. The Bible was still clear. Sin was still sin. Divorce was wrong. I was, it should be noted, being faithful to the ideas I had learned growing up in church, convinced that principles are always more important than people, that everything is always black and white, ambiguity be damned.”

Mark Driscoll's Church "Discipline"

I’d like to share some links on Mark Driscoll’s program of church discipline at Mars Hill Church. These links are about a young man named Andrew, who was recently subjected to that discipline.

Matthew Paul Turner, Mark Driscoll’s Church Discipline Contract: Looking For True Repentance at Mars Hill Church? Sign on the Dotted Line.

Matthew Paul Turner, Mark Driscoll’s ‘Gospel Shame’: The Truth About Discipline, Excommunication, and Cult-like Control at Mars Hill.

Dr. Robert Cargill, how much more evidence do you need? mark driscoll’s mars hill church is a cult.

Sarah Moon, Mark Driscoll, spiritual abuse, and fluffy bunnies…

This is why I am very reluctant to get involved in conservative Christianity. This church has a right to run itself as it sees fit, but I don’t have to be a part of it. And I do not believe for a moment that I will go to hell on account of that! I’ll stick with mainline Protestantism, or attending Catholic churches. As a Catholic told me in response to all of this, the Catholic church dealt with the issue of sin and repentance years ago by setting up the confessional. You sin, you confess to a priest, and you go out of the booth and try to live the right way. There doesn’t have to be meeting after meeting with church officials, who are eager to exercise their “authority” and to show how spiritually superior they think they are. There doesn’t have to be a threat hanging over the person’s head (even if it is merely implied) that those officials will go public with what the person did wrong if the person doesn’t play ball. (UPDATE: Mars Hill has said that only a few people were informed about the situation with Andrew.)  Heck, even the so-called evil “world” knows better how to restore people than Mark Driscoll’s church! If I wanted healing and restoration, I’d pay for a therapist rather than listen to Mark Driscoll make an ass out of himself every week or experience “discipline” at the hands of his cultish church.

Some will tell me that I’ve only read one side of the issue. In a sense, that is true. But Turner in his posts above links to Mars Hill’s discipline contract as well as the church’s letter to church members about Andrew. I can tell from the self-righteous, controlling tone of those documents that this is not a church with which I’d like to associate.

“But Mark Driscoll is being biblical”, some will tell me. Many actually care about this. Personally, I would not subject myself to spiritual abuse, even if it technically were “biblical”. But, for those who care about whether something is “biblical”, I wonder if there is a reasonable way to apply Matthew 18. I mean, not all evangelical churches are this cultish. Mark Driscoll’s church is applying Matthew 18 and other passages about church discipline in a specific manner, but are there other legitimate ways to apply those passages?

My advice for people reading this: If you attend a conservative Christian church that practices this kind of discipline, don’t limit your social circle to that church. That way, it won’t hurt as much if you are kicked out or disciplined, for you will have other friends.

My hope is that people will call Mark Driscoll out on this. I like it when people stand up to bullies, especially bullies who pompously think that they have some divine mandate. Rachel Held Evans called out Mark Driscoll a couple of times, and that got his attention (whether or not he knew he was responding to her specifically)—-as he responded with a degree of humility one time, and with defensiveness another time. As Dr. Cargill says in one of the comments, it would be nice if this could get on the national news!

Redemption, Paper Tigers, a Real Man

I have a couple of links to share today:

1. John Shore had an excellent post yesterday entitled From a Christian Woman Who Chose Abortion. My impression is that the point of the post is not that abortion is an acceptable choice for a Christian woman to make. Rather, it’s about humility and treating people with understanding and compassion rather than judging them. The woman who wrote to John once stood in front of her church and boldly proclaimed that she would never have an abortion. Later, however, she found herself is dire straits. She says:

“I had just had a baby; he was four months old when my father died after spending a month on life support. I didn’t even know I was pregnant until about a week after my father’s funeral. I had been given every kind of sedative and tranquilizer medication during that month and after the funeral. I was left with a broken mother, three kids under six years of age, a husband out of work, and a very shaky marriage. I had complications with all my pregnancies, but no one told me my life was at risk. No one said, ‘It’s your life, or your baby.’ I prayed, ‘Dear Lord, I cannot do this. What am I suppose to do? Do I give up my three children, and my mother who needs me desperately right now?’ Because I knew that, in the mental state I was in, I would not make it through another pregnancy. So I quickly made the arrangements and went through the process like a robot.”

On whether or not she made the right decision, I can see both sides. On the one hand, her choice was certainly understandable, since she was in dire straits—-financially, in terms of her health, etc. Pregnancy takes a toll, and raising another child is quite costly, especially when the family is already struggling financially. On the other hand, if abortion is murder, would it not be unacceptable even in dire straits, since we don’t tolerate infanticide regardless of what the situation is? But John did not tell her that her decision was right. He was telling her that she could move on from this—-confident about God’s love for her.

I especially appreciated the following statement that John made:

“You were young when you went before your church to say how you would never have an abortion. That’s such a young thing to do: it’s so immature, so obviously an effort to be praised, to belong, to assert a winning identity. And it’s so informed by one of the primary defining qualities of youth: moral certainty. Young people can only see right and wrong in clear, black-and-white terms; they haven’t yet developed an appreciation for the infinite means by which moral blacks-and-whites become infinite shades of grey. The real failure with your experience lies with the adults who encouraged and allowed you to make such an insipid speech. An actually mature person would have told you to sit down, and be quiet. Who wants to hear a young person bragging about their moral superiority? The only reason they let you make that speech is because it served their own agenda: they essentially used you as propaganda, and no two ways about it. That’s a shame on them—but no shame to you. You’re not guilty of anything there except being young. And that (thank God!) is no crime.”

I like this statement because I hate it when conservative evangelicals act like they’re so morally superior. But, in a sense, this was also a mirror in front of my face. It’s easy for me to make dogmatic moral pronouncements, without taking into consideration the weight of issues: dire straits in which people may find themselves, shades of gray, etc. Hopefully, I’m growing in this area.

2. Bruce Gerenscer has an excellent post, God a Jokester or Do Candidates for President Have a Hearing Problem?

It’s about how candidates like Rick Perry and Michele Bachmann talk like they have some divine mandate to run for President. We’ve seen this sort of thing before. William Martin, in With God On Our Side, says that Pat Robertson said that God told him he (Pat Robertson) would become President. And Mike Huckabee in 2008 said that God was blessing his campaign for the Presidency. But we see how these campaigns turned out!

I get sick of conservative evangelicals claiming to have a divine mandate, or some special knowledge about what God wants. What am I to conclude? That opposing them is opposing God? It gratifies me, therefore, when their endeavors fail (at least their endeavors for power, not their attempts to, say, help the poor). It reveals them to be the paper tigers that they are!

3. Susan Wise Bauer reviews Mark Driscoll’s book, Real Marriage. I appreciated some of the following lines:

“His definition of manliness is surprisingly Southern; in the very first chapter, he explains that he came back to the church as a young man because he finally found a congregation with a manly pastor (he had been in the military and bow-hunted) and masculine men (farmers, hunters, and one guy with 13 children). Men are to be tough in business (there will be no questioning of American economic norms in this book) and tender with women and children, who are weak. Wives are ‘crystal goblets,’ beautiful and fragile; men are ‘thermoses,’ strong and protective. Men are to lead, women to submit, although submission is carefully redefined as ‘respect’ and leadership as ‘taking responsibility.’ Men, Driscoll says, are meant to be breadwinners…[Driscoll states:] ‘First, a guy needs to grow up by moving out of his parents’ house, paying his own bills, worshipping his God, and taking care of himself. Second, a man is then able to pursue a noble woman in a noble way.’ Actually, most good Israelite boys tended to stay home until their fathers brought them their brides.”

I seriously doubt that I would fit Driscoll’s definition of a real man. I don’t bow hunt. I’m not the ruthless, assertive type. At this moment, I’m not financially independent. Should I work on some of these things? I think so. I’m on a path towards a career, even if I have not arrived yet. And perhaps I should work on being less timid and at least a little more assertive, although I should also maintain a gentle, friendly quality that can put people at ease. If I can find a way of being that works for me, and that helps me and other people, then why should I worry about whether I fit Driscoll’s definition of a real man? What would be the point of me beating up on myself? In my opinion, not living up to Mark Driscoll’s standards does not equal disappointing God.

Ron Paul on Racism; Mark Driscoll on Marriage

I’d like to share a couple of links:

1. Here is a YouTube video, “Busted! Ron Paul racist rant caught on tape!”

The title of the video is ironic because the video goes on to show that Ron Paul passionately stands up for African-Americans. He opposes the war on drugs and favors treatment for addiction instead, one reason being that the war on drugs has disproportionately targeted minorities, when there are whites who have addiction problems, too. Paul also opposes the federal death penalty because it, too, tends to target minorities. And Paul affirms that racism is actually inconsistent with libertarianism, which treats people as individuals rather than as groups.

I can see Paul’s points, here, and I appreciate his concern for minority issues. I may vote for him in the primaries. But I’d have a hard time having him as President because I do not believe that libertarianism will help the vulnerable. I think, for example, that the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was a good idea—-all of it—-for people are not always going to do the right, fair thing on their own. I also cringe at Ron Paul’s opposition to laws against sexual harassment (see here). I can see his point that, say, telling a crude joke in the workplace should not be made into a federal case. But I also think that a woman should be able to take legal action if her employer is making her employment or professional advancement contingent on having sex with him. Paul’s statement that the woman should seek employment elsewhere if she does not like her current job-environment strikes me as insensitive. It does not consider the difficulty of finding a job, as well as women’s vulnerability, as they seek to maintain their personal dignity while also feeding their families. So, in my opinion, Ron Paul is a mixed bag when it comes to understanding the plight of the vulnerable.

2. Rachel Held Evans reviews Mark Driscoll’s Real Marriage. I have not read the book, but, from what I know of Driscoll, her critiques strike me as spot-on. Driscoll, for instance, has a certain conception of what being a real man is, and he seems to look down on those who do not fit that mold. I also agree with Rachel that the Christian conservative teaching that women should submit to their husbands is a one-sided reading of Scripture, for Esther did not blindly obey her husband when she appeared before him at risk of death. But, like Rachel, I appreciate Driscoll for saying that husbands and wives should be friends, and, while his admission of his personal flaws does raise the question of whether we should view our pastors as infallible oracles, I do admire his vulnerability and his willingness to grow. In my opinion, conservative evangelicalism has good and bad points: it teaches men to love, honor, and respect women, rather than seeing them as sex-objects, and it also encourages men to admit when they are wrong. Yet, that co-exists with a patriarchal mindset.

James' Review of Michael Camp's 31 Reasons for Being Post-Evangelical

My friend Felix reviewed progressive Christian blogger Michael Camp's 31 reasons for leaving evangelicalism and becoming a progressive but not a liberal. Felix copy-and-pasted Camp's post on his own blog and offered his own reactions in red. I'll do the same thing.

Okay, in the spirit of Rachel Held Evans' blog post on 13 Things that Make Me a Lousy Evangelical (and a Lousy Progressive and a Lousy Feminist), I've come up with my own list of 31 reasons I left evangelicalism and became a progressive (for lack of a better term) but not a liberal. So, here we go:

1. I'm allergic to contempary Christian music. I don't mind it myself, but I don't listen to it as much nowadays. When I do listen to music (which is rare), it's usually secular pop. I like the sound of contemporary Christian music, but sometimes it makes me feel uncomfortable because I start evaluating my reaction to the theology of the lyrics.
2. I never believed in the inerrancy of the Bible (and think it's rather obvious it's not inerrant) and got tired of hiding that fact. I don't worry about it that much, to tell you the truth. I just assume that God is a God of unconditional love. If there is a way for the Bible to conform to that, fine. If not, then I don't worry about it, for there are plenty of people who testify that God has been unconditionally loving in their own lives. Plus, I need a God who is unconditionally loving.
3. I realized biblicism (the notion that the Bible is infallible, internally consistent, universally applicable, contains all the truth we need, and makes us certain about most everything) is intellectually hallow and dishonest (see The Bible Made Impossible). I have issues with biblicism myself, for the Bible does strike me as a diverse collection of writings. And I feel no compulsion to harmonize contradictions in an artificial manner.
4. I think it's not only fine to try to ascertain what Jesus meant or what Bible authors meant, in the original culture, but more importantly, if we don't, we're not taking the Bible seriously. We love tradition over truth. I think it's good to try to do this. At the same time, it's interesting that Bible readers throughout history did not have an IVP Bible Background Commentary, yet they got along fairly adequately. But, for me, putting the Bible in its ancient Near Eastern setting largely illustrates how it was a product of ANE time and culture.
5. I think it's perfectly acceptable to pick and choose what one thinks is inspired and true in the Bible. After all, that's how the Bible was composed. Someone else picked and chose and copied and translated, so why can't we? Why do we have to take it on faith and they get to decide? How does one do that you ask? Have an open mind, look at objective biblical scholarship, use some common sense, and let the Spirit speak to your heart. What? You think that's crazy? If accepting everthing at face value works, then why does evangelicalism have a thousand denominations and opinions about what the Bible teaches? I agree with much of this. I sympathize somewhat, however, with fundamentalism's question of how we can trust any of the Bible, if we do not believe in all of it. What should be the foundation of our theology, if we cannot even see God? At the same time, even conservative Christians do not accept all of the Bible, for they downplay or soften many of the parts that disagree with their theology. The Bible is filtered through human subjectivity, which stresses some parts while downplaying other parts. So what can I do? I guess I can be open to whatever wisdom the Bible offers, use common sense, get counsel from others, and pray. And God won't stop loving me if I get things wrong.
6. Despite 2-5 above, I think much of the Bible is inspired by God. It has good stories, principles, and observations about how life works. I don't worry a great deal these days about whether the Bible is inspired and how it is inspired. I just read it, and maybe God can use it to inspire me.
7. After studying the historical and cultural context of the Bible and learning how it has sometimes been miscopied, and frequently mistranslated and misinterpreted (by people who care more about tradition than truth), I find it a remarkably progressive book--okay, okay, minus that stuff about genocide and killing women and children, etc. I agree that it is progressive in that it often champions the poor against their oppressors. I think, though, that conservative Christians downplay the less progressive parts (lifelong slavery for non-Israelite captives) in their attempts to argue that the Bible is divinely-inspired. And I also have issues with the Conquest, especially since the Israelites did not have to kill the women and children. For people outside of Canaan, God had the Israelites take the women and children as captives, while killing only the men. Why couldn't that have been the policy for the Canaanites, as well (assuming it's moral in the first place for one people-group to displace another).
8. I might be called to love him, but I don't like Rick Warren, and especially those Hawaiian shirts he wears. Like Felix, I disagree with Warren's stance that abused wives can't leave their husbands. I also think that the Purpose-Driven Life is over-rated and promotes group-think. But I appreciated some of Rick Warren's questions to Barack Obama and John McCain in 2008, for some of them were not the typical right-wing garbage (i.e., thou shalt not flip-flop). He also does appear to be progressive on some issues.
9. R.C. Sproul defending Mark Driscoll makes me a bit nauseous. Okay, a lot nauseous. I respect R.C. Sproul, on some level, because he fairly articulates different perspectives. But I don't like how some evangelicals point to him as some major apologist I should follow, for (as is the case with most apologists) I don't think he proves Christianity is true. As for Mark Driscoll, I can't stand him. I think he comes across as a pompous jerk and a bully. If he says I should do something, I'm tempted to do the opposite.
10. I not only think believing in The Rapture is delusional, but also believing we live in the end times too. I agree, especially since every time since the time after Christ's death has been labeled "the end times" by Christians, so why should I take it seriously? As for the pre-trib rapture, I understand how some Christians arrive at that, but the church fathers didn't believe in it, and biblical texts that supposedly support it have other plausible interpretations.
11. I believe Jesus already returned (figuratively) in the first century (you gotta read my book). I'm open to preterism. It certainly beats being afraid of living in the end-times! It also makes a good-faith attempt to explain how Jesus was not wrong when he said or implied that he would come back in "this generation" or in the lifetime of his disciples. But I have a nagging feeling that preterism is just some inadequate way to defend the Bible. Jesus often presents his coming as corresponding with judgment on the nations, redemption, salvation, etc. That did not happen in 70 C.E. So was Jesus wrong? Maybe. I still hope that God will intervene and make this world better, though.
12. I believe the Bible teaches the good guys get left behind (again, it's in the book). Yup. One is taken, the other is left. The taken one goes where the vultures are, or something like that.
13. I sometimes agree with R.C. Sproul. For example, he actually pretty much believes #11 too. Calvinism disgusts me, but, like I said, I like how R.C. looks at different perspectives and evaluates them, even if I don't agree with where he ends up.
14. Going to a U2 concert is a spiritual experience for me. I don't listen to U2, but I admire Bono for his humanitarian work and for reaching out to right-wing Christian figures to encourage them to show compassion for the least of these.
15. I no longer believe evolution is the enemy. I think there's evidence for it. What its theological implications are, I'm not sure yet.
16. I think intelligent design is a grand idea that needs to be seriously considered. I'm against censorship, so, yes, give ID a fair hearing. But I also don't think gaps in our scientific knowledge should lead to a "God did it" that precludes attempts to find a scientific, naturalistic explanation.
17. I think one can be a practicing gay or lesbian and still follow Christ. This is a hard one for me. I consider myself to be for gay rights, in the sense that I oppose discrimination in housing and employment. I also really don't care if gays marry, as long as the law respects religious institutions not going along with that (as New York's law does). I also think that gays can be good people and experience God, since that occurs in churches, synagogues, AA meetings, etc. But can a practicing gay or lesbian follow "Christ"? My reading of Scripture is that the Bible disapproves of homosexual activity, and I've not been convinced by exegetical attempts to argue otherwise. But is the Bible right that this is God's will? I'd have problems telling a person he has to be celibate for the rest of his natural life. I doubt that God is that cruel.
18. I'm a microbrew enthusiast and love to talk theology over a couple of brews. I'm a tee-totaler, not for religious reasons, but because drinking is not good for me personally. And, overall, I have issues with talking theology, since what it often amounts to is someone else trying to shove his or her religion down my throat. I'd NEED a brew to endure that!
19. Rick Perry makes me really nervous (but not as much as Sarah Palin). He has a certain charm, but he exemplifies so many things that I hate about evangelicals. His whining about persecution for his faith comes to mind. And I don't care what his apologists say: he was hosting that prayer rally to get evangelical votes. I mean, he announced his run for President not long after it. Regarding Sarah Palin, I at first liked her because she struck me as a populist, a reformer, and a common person. Plus, she was hot. Nowadays, I'm not impressed by her lack of knowledge, plus I believe the testimony of those who say she can be a mean girl. I'm also sick of her continual whining and playing the victim.
20. I hate sexual exploitation but find some erotica perfectly acceptable for adults. Are we talking about pornography here? I steer clear of it. I'm not the sort of guy who leaves the room when there's nudity in a movie. But I don't want to become addicted to Internet porn.
21. I think the evangelical church is sex-negative (okay, there are a few good evangelical marriage sex manuals out there, but that's the only exception). I'd say it is, and unrealistically so. People's drives encourage them to have sex. But we don't want venereal diseases and unwanted pregnancies. Consequently, I favor birth control.
22. I think Charlize Theron is hot and I'm not afraid to admit it. Oh, she's okay, I guess.
23. I voted for Barak Obama. I still support him but see a lot of things he could do better. I voted for McCain, but I admired Obama. Nowadays, I don't think he's overly adept as a leader, but he's more compassionate and reasonable than a lot of Republicans.
24. I hate it when Republicans accuse Obama of doing or proposing things that George W. Bush (increased the deficit by $5 trillion) and Ronald Reagan did (raised taxes 11 times). I agree. At least the Obama deficit would stimulate the economy by putting money in people's pockets! On a related note, I also hated how conservatives lambasted liberal incivility when Bush was President, and then they turned around and trashed Obama, calling him Hitler, etc.
25. I think what evangelicals call "church" is a non-biblical, man-made construct (back to my book, and yes, these are shameless plugs!). I don't think so, but I haven't read Michael's book! The church is in the NT. There were meetings. There was discipline. Does that mean I believe everyone is required to go to church? No. But I find that it gives me inspiration and community.
26. I think nine times out of ten spiritual disciplines (praying, fasting, time in the Word, worship, going to cutting-edge, spiritual conferences, and following the latest, trendy book -- think Purpose Driven Life) becomes a legalistic treadmill. I think those things can be a tread-mill, but I need them (on some level) to encourage myself to have a good attitude and to meet life in constructive ways. I've done them differently over the years, though. I used to pray an hour each day over Scripture. Nowadays, I read devotionals and pray for ten minutes, and also when I feel a need to pray.
27. After studying the issue and examining the historical and biblical evidence, I became a Universalist. I think that's a plausible reading of much of Scripture. Eternity does not last forever in parts of the Bible, nor does the fire that is not quenched. And there are passages in Paul about God reconciling all. But some things in Scripture, in my opinion, are hard to square with universalism. Why, for example, would God delay his parousia so people would have time to repent (II Peter 3), if they have opportunities to repent after the parousia?
28. I think the emergent "conversation" is good (and I really like Brian McLaren), but wish they'd come to a concluson once in awhile. Just for grins. I'm pretty much satisfied with them, even when their arguments are bad. I think that their conversations lead to edifying ideas, plus they point out where conservative Christianity has problems and offer an alternative (and, in my view, better) outlook.
29. I often disagree with Bishop Spong, but sometimes I do agree with him. I actually think I read him more in my conservative days than I have lately! I think I agree with him on many things, but I differ from him in that I believe in a personal God. And, while I found him to be affable when he taught at Harvard Divinity School, I find him to be pompous and closed-minded in his polemics.
30. I like Bishop Spong way more than Rick Warren or Mark Driscoll. Heck, I like Pat Robertson more than Mark Driscoll!
31. I think the truth is embodied in a composite of Marcus Borg and N.T. Wright. Yeah, probably. I agree with Borg that Jesus challenged the purity system. But I like how Wright places Jesus' mission into the story of Israel.

I could go on, but you get the picture. Please comment, challenge me, and share your own lists of where you're at!

Marc Driscoll vs. The Shack

Today is Pentecost, so I’m not doing a lot of homework today. I don’t want to stress out over getting everything done before 7:00, which is when the LOST fesitivities begin. And it’s such a nice day. It’s beautiful outside, and it’s nice and cool in my apartment. I don’t feel like stressing out right now. And so, since Pentecost only comes once a year, I might as well enjoy it!

I’m continuing to read through William P. Young’s The Shack. Last night, a friend of mine posted a critique of the book by Marc Driscoll, the pastor of Mars Hill Church. Driscoll argued that the book violates the commandment against graven images, since it portrays God the Father as an African-American woman. For Driscoll, this portrayal asserts that God has a physical body and is a goddess, both of which are contrary to Scripture, since God is a spirit and is called “Father”. (Driscoll doesn’t believe that God is a man, but rather that Scripture calls God “Father” for a reason. Actually, The Shack agrees that God calls himself a father for a reason!) Driscoll also accuses The Shack of modalism because God the Father in the book says that he was human through Jesus, when, according to Scripture, God the Word was human, not God the Father. And, while The Shack denies the existence of a hierarchy within the Godhead and presents hierarchy as a product of the Fall, passages in Scripture affirm that Jesus is subordinate to the Father (see I Corinthians 11:3), in a state of humble obedience.

I defended The Shack yesterday. I cited page 101, in which Papa (God the Father) says, “We are not three gods, and we are not talking about one god with three attitudes, like a man who is a husband, father, and worker”. This is an emphatic denial of modalism, the view that there is one God-person, who performs three roles. I offered the possibility that The Shack is saying that God the Father experienced Jesus’ humanity with him, since what affects one member of the Godhead affects the others. When Jesus suffered on the cross, so did God the Father, which is why The Shack depicts the Father with wounds in his hands. This is not saying that God the Father and Jesus are the same person (which is modalism), but rather that God the Father empathized with Jesus and, in some sense, shared Jesus’ experiences.

I said that Papa in the book is not an African-American woman, but merely takes that form to shatter Mack’s stereotypes about God. Of course the book holds that God is not a woman—God’s much more than that! But God assumes that form in the story.

Is that biblical? I mean, the idea that God can appear in a form. To be honest, I’m not sure. I can see both sides. In Deuteronomy 4:12, 15-18, God emphasizes that Israel saw no form of God when God spoke to her from the fire. God appears to be adverse to the idea of appearing in a form, since that could encourage Israel to make a graven image of God in that form, as they focus on the image rather than the invisible God and his words. But God arguably does appear as a form at times. There are incidents in Scripture in which a biblical character encounters a man (or so it seems!) and exclaims, “I have seen God and lived” (Genesis 32:30; Judges 13:22). Many Christians believe that those were appearances of God the Word, who later became Jesus Christ. And, speaking of which, there’s an incarnation, in which God became a man.

But Driscoll acknowledged the incarnation, and that the Holy Spirit appeared as a dove at Jesus’ baptism. So Driscoll said that the second commandment prohibits one from making an image of God the Father, since the Son and the Holy Spirit appeared in forms, or (in Jesus’ case) became embodied. But would Driscoll say that the Trinity appeared to Abraham in Genesis 18? If so, was one of those men God the Father? And here’s another question: Was God the Father the one who revealed himself in the events described in Deuteronomy 4—the one who refused to show Israel his form out of a fear that they might become idolaters? Jesus in John 5:37 says that “You have never heard [God's] voice or seen him form” (NRSV). But didn’t Israel hear God’s voice in Deuteronomy 4? That’s why some have contended that the one who spoke to Israel from Sinai was God the Word, who became Jesus Christ. So how can Marc Driscoll apply the second commandment to God the Father, and not Jesus Christ, if God the Word is the one who applies the second commandment to himself in Deuteronomy 4?

Is The Shack breaking the commandment against graven images? Well, nothing’s graven here, but you get the idea: the command against representing God with a particular form. Again, I’m not sure. I think that one reason behind the second commandment was to keep Israel from limiting God to an image, since God is so much more. But The Shack is pretty clear that God is so much more than an African-American woman, or even a man, if that’s the form he were to choose; rather, God’s taking that form to teach Mack a lesson. And yet, did the ancients believe that a statue of a bull was the sum-total of who God was? Or did they merely think that the bull communicated certain attributes of God, such as strength?

I acknowledged yesterday that Driscoll had a point about hierarchy within the Godhead. At the time, I hadn’t yet gotten to the part of the book in which the three members of the Godhead argue against hierarchy. This morning, in my insomnia, I read that part. The members of the Godhead say that their relationship is one of working together rather than one person being in charge, and they treat the feeling that someone needs to be in charge as a carnal trait, not something that is characteristic of divinity. Yet, in the book, Sarayu (the Holy Spirit) holds that Jesus became a servant who was dependent on his Father (page 137). Is the book arguing against Jesus’ subordination to the Father, or merely against an authoritarian view of hierarchy?

I had a slightly difficult time debating some of the arguments against The Shack, for I’ve not read the entire book. One claim was that The Shack denies that God punishes people in wrath. At the time, I hadn’t yet encountered such a passage in the book, but I did this morning. On page 120, Papa says: “I don’t need to punish people for sin. Sin is its own punishment, devouring you from the inside. It’s not my purpose to punish it; it’s my joy to cure it.”

I think it’s a little of both. Sin itself can create negative effects, but there are also times in Scripture when God brings punishment on sinners from outside of themselves, to uphold his moral order. Maybe that’s part of how God tries to cure it, in certain cases. But here’s a question: Is Young being un-orthodox when he says that sin is its own punishment? Didn’t C.S. Lewis make the same point when he affirmed that the door of hell is locked from the inside—that sinners will be in their own hell of sin, for all eternity? I remember Tim Keller appealing to Romans 1 to argue that hell is God letting sinners do what they want, with all of the consequences to that. Is Young saying something heretical or new?

So far, my impression is that The Shack recycles the usual Christian pat answers for evil (i.e., free-will, the Fall), while trying to make them look deep. But I don’t want to be dismissive of it, for maybe it is deep. I can only read so much of it in one sitting!