Illusions of Pluralism

Karen Olson writes in an opening essay in the current issue of Utne:

"When I was 20 I was engagd to marry a soon-to-be-ordained Lutheran minister. While he was preparing to devote his life to being a spiritual leader in one church, I was in college and just beginning to sutdy world religions, large and small. Learning about different traditions leads some people deeper into their own faith. Others find reason to convert, or to reject God or religion altogher. For me, delving into the ways people express their connection ot the sacred, or map their understanding of the universe, made the world bigger and richer and more exciting than I could have imagined. It also changed my love life.

Testing the waters I asked my fiance' how he would feel if I decided to become, say, a Buddhist.

'If it's right for you, I would respect that,' he replied. I was happily surprised and relieved by his response. But I was even more surprised at my reaction after he asked, 'The question is, will you still respect me if I remain a Christian?'

That was a humbling moment, one that proved to be a crossroads in my life. I found I couldn't immediately say yes, and I was mortified."

Olson goes on to speak about her spiritual quest that is shaped by a quote by Ghandi: "All religions are true."

All of this raises for me some questions. If all religions are true, does that mean that Olson can respect Christians as well as, say, Buddhists? If a person believes that Islam is "truer" than Judaism, does that mean that the Muslim is less tolerant than a person who believes that all religions are true? Or if a person holds that all religions are true and another person holds that one religion is true, who is really the more tolerant or right?

I guess I'm thinking that human beings would be much better off if we resist the foolishness of fundamentalism (resorting to violence to prove our religious ardour). But I think that the pious sounding notions that every one has truth needs to be rejected as well. It is neither helpful or tolerant or kind. To make the claim that all religions are true is just as narrow a statement as saying that Christianity is only true religion. Both are absolute statements that leave anyone who disagrees out in the dark.

We need to wrestle with the realities of living in a diverse, pluralistic world. But claiming a pluralistic approach for the answer is nothing more than adding another religion to the list.

Maybe Olson's one-time fiance' had a good starting place. What would happen if we began by offering respect to persons for their religious or spiritual vision? What would happen if we engaged in really trying to practice the heart of whatever faith we claim?

Sunday Night Soliloquy

Sundays are busy and full; today has been no exception. Yet the fullness of the day finds special meaning in so many ways. Some of the highlights include: watching NL elders gather around a woman, annoint her with oil and pray for her; witnessing members of our youth group make commitments at the True Love Waits banquet; seeing a search committee wrestle with hard choices; worshipping while 5th and 6th graders lead a worship service.

May God be praised.

A Belly-Full of Christian Realism

Working on Sunday's sermon in a hotel room in Nashville is a little out of the ordinary for me. But a Bible and Barth's commentary on Philippians is a good combination; certainly better than reaching for the remote.

Sunday's text has that wonderful charge against some folk that worship their animal appetites (their god is their belly). I guess that means appetites--today it may well mean a well sculpted belly, fashioned by Spas Are Us. The six-pack belly, finely crunched and well tanned by the Tans Are Us. Either way you take it, the focus is on the possibilities of the body for providing security and meaning. (That's what a god supposed to do, isn't it?)

Paul doesn't mess around a whole lot here (or elsewhere). The problem with these folks is that they have failed to get a grip on reality. They have falsely supposed that you can really make a difference in your life by paying attention to the physical things. The failure here is in thinking that something truly good can come from a human being.

Now I'm not suggesting that a person can't do good or make significant contributions to the well being of society. But the fallacy is in thinking that humans can, by their own initiative--by having trim bellies or full bellies (or by being attentive to earthly affairs--phil 3.19) make any real and lasting difference in the world.

If you think that for a minute that human (or governmental) effort will transform the middle east or for that matter, your uncle's drinking efforts and make him adorable, then you have neglected a key reality. In fact, I would go so far as to say that Christians are more realistic on this point than pagans.

Christians believe that human beings are inevitably going to mess up, blow it, and generally, left to their own devices, fail. Christians have a "body of humiliation (3.21);" we are realistically aware that we aren't going to live with spendor on our own merit. That is why Paul is grateful that God's power is at work to make everything wonderful--gloriful.

Now I don't think this is some sort of excuse for us to "Disincline to acquiesce to the request (Captain Barbosa)" to the important work of redemptively engaging the brokenness of the world. But we had better keep in mind that the only god that can really deliver the power to change mourning into dancing is not going to be found at corner bar, restaurant, spa, or tanning salon.

Mission Meal

Last night the Reeds played host to several friends and who had common links to missions and to textual criticism. Carroll Osburn was in town, who, many years ago did some translation and mission support work with Ralph and Susie McCluggage. Aaron and Sharon Zee joined us and much of the conversation was focused on the incredible needs that exist in Africa. Bad water, economic downturns, and perhaps, most significantly, AIDS ravages much of the continent. Alex was over as well; so a few random engagements occurred on Eusebius or other noted early church fathers.

Carroll is always energized and, even in retirement, is busy with many projects. It was good to see him again, though I am reminded of him every time I see my old two-volume copy of the Septuagint sitting on my shelf. I will never forget showing up at his office in the mansion at Harding for an oral final examination in the Greek New Testament. Nervously, I came into his large office with my Greek NT in my hands. I sat down at a table and he said, "put that away, Carson." Let's see what you can do with the Septuagint. With that he pulled a copy of the Septuagint over and opened up to some random place and said, "start reading!"

All in all, I enjoyed listening to Aaron and Ralph talk about Zambia last night. That way Carroll never got around to calling on me to read again!

Travelogue

Monday morning in North Carolina. We listened to the patter of rain on the metal roof of a cottage all night and awoke to the gray mist of the mountains. Our host, Connie Grubermann, was in the big house preparing what by all accounts was a gourmet breakfast. If your ever in or near Franklin, North Carolina, spend the night at Oak Hill Country Inn. We had a delightful time.

Yesterday brought the conclusion of Winterfest; we said goodbye to our many friends from Westlake (we hope to see you all in May). We drove through the Smokey Mountain National Park and made our way to the little town of Canton to pay a visit to Vickie’s long time roommate from college and graduate school days, Gwen Rogers Clifford. Gwen and her husband, Rush, live in the middle of the woods. So we enjoyed a most pleasant visit and coffee on a rainy afternoon.

Gatlinburg: Winterfest

Crowds gather and the watch on the ramp is on. Standing in the frigid weather and huddled in tight clumps church youth groups from Florida to Michigan wait. Their destination: the interior of the Gatlinburg Convention Center and another session of Winterfest.

Music (Newsboys last night) and comedy (Bean and Bailey), worship and teaching (Jeff Walling) all combine to draw and inspire, challenge and encourage youth and the adults that accompany them on this weekend pilgrimage.

This year attendees receive a special Bible and Walling (and guest teacher Greg Anderson) work with how to share Jesus with someone. Kids mark their Bibles and note ways of telling the story. A little stilted certainly; unrealistic in expecting someone to passively let another turn from one scripture to another and then just want to be baptized. Yet students are learning Scripture; and most importantly, they are being challenged to see that sharing their faith is not a foreign, formidable ordeal. Students are capturing the vision that sharing faith is a natural expression of love and interest in another person.

God be praised!

Ripley’s Believe It Or Not.

Okay, so it’s not the most sophisticated of museums; in fact, I’m not really sure it really qualifies as a museum by any academic standard. But when people go to places like Gatlinburg, a tourist trap by almost any definition one usually takes in one or two such traps, so. . . .

Two-headed calves, men who drive nails up their nose, a woman who swallows swords, strange things from far away places, and amusing tombstones (“John Yeast—forgive me for not rising!”) are all interesting oddities. But the thing that I pondered the most is what sort of person would travel over land and sea looking for the most bizarre and outlandish people and things to write about or collect?

What sort of person was Robert Ripley? Though he died in 1949, the search for the crazy and the odd, the odyssey for the unbelievable continues.

What prompted him to visit 185 countries? What was he really looking for? Another story? Another oddity to promote or to collect? Was Ripley incurably curious or was he just weird?

One thing is for sure; he was relentless in his pursuit. “Not that I have already obtained this or have already reached the goal; but press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Beloved, I do not consider that I have made it my one; but this one thing I do; forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of God’s divine call in Christ Jesus.” (Paul in Philippians)

Pascal's word to atheists

"What reason have they for saying that we cannot rise from the dead? What is more difficult, to be born or to rise again; that what has never been should be, or that what has been should be again? Is it more difficult to come into existence than to return to it?" --Blaise Pascal

Friends--Old and New

After living 20 years in Indianapolis, one of the things I really miss is my friends. Friends at church, friends in ministry, and friends in the community that become a part of your life. Haunting downtown restaurants (Working Man's Friend Bar, the Ram, or Milano), nine holes at the Clermont Country Club ( I bet you couldn't hit an 18 wheeler on I-74 if your life depended on it; I'll bet you a $100,000 on the next hole), or the Ponderosa in Lebanon (don't ask) all become places where you don't have to be anything other than who you are. No one has to prove anything to anybody.

So here I am in Atlanta. The good news is that there is no shortage of Bar-B-Q places. And I'm finding men to share times at places like Harold's and Fat Matt's (the best ribs I've had in years!) Or perhaps, today, with three brothers (at Chili's--I know, its not particularly exciting, but the company was outstanding!) and praying over a pick-up truck. So it's taking time to make the connections--and relationships are coming along. There's the Crescent Moon and the Hickory House; Spiced Right Bar-B-Q and Sonny's. Matthew's and Los Hermanos. Caribou Coffee; Paramount Coffee. The list goes on.

I've been blessed with the rich company of people in my life. Though time and space may distance the connections with some; others have been brought closer. The common ingredient is not the food or the golf or the laughter. Through it all, friends, old and new, is the sacred connection of men who are willing to share the journey of life together. And in the mystery of friendship, Jesus is there too.

Northlake Prays

A group of believers gathered last night in the chapel for prayer. And it was a remarkable time indeed! Not that what we prayed for something new or different. In fact, much of our prayer was for dozens of requests for sick bodies, aged parents, young children, broken marriages, mission work in Honduras, care for the poor and stability in Iraq and Israel. Nor was it remarkable for prayer to be offered for holy living, prayerful hearts, renewed spirits, and devoted lives.

What flowed over me about halfway through that hour, and continues with me today, is hope. Hope in God. Hope in the work of God among us and through us--and if need by, in spite of us. I am living with expectation in God's power to accomplish great things today.

Sunday-Monday Dichotomy

Is there really a difference between Sunday and every other day of the week? We sometimes act like there is. Sunday is comprised of hymns and scripture, worship and visiting with other Christians. Then on Monday, we head back to work and life takes on its usual sort of flavor. Six days a week we take on the real tasks of living; Sunday comes and we go through the rituals of our faith.

Sunday is the day off from the reality of life; one day out of seven where we can think in a different way about what is important. But alas, Monday comes and then it is back to normal.

But maybe it doesn’t have to be that way. Maybe it would make more sense to understand Sunday as the day when we have the leisure to experience life as God really intended it to be. As Thomas Long would say: “Sunday is not just one more day in a string of days. Rather, Sunday, as the day of worship, is the essence of the week, the Day of all Days, the day that discloses what is deep and hidden, but nonetheless true, about every day.”

To heighten the value of worship, to rethink the significance of Sunday, to refrain from thinking that the real world is what happens Monday through Saturday, such tasks strike deeply at the heart of Christian identity and faith. Worship is the place where, though language, song, scripture, prayer, and community, a vision of the “real world” is experienced. And it is that vision that corrects the false and inadequate visions of life that I encounter throughout the rest of the week.

Loss and Gain

Letting go of the best of my resume in order to embrace Christ. I'm still thinking about Philippians 3.2-10 this morning. "I want to know Christ." To know Christ. How can we ever fully know him? And yet, that is not what Paul is claiming.

Would it not be better to understand that Paul's desire is to be in a living, growing relationship with Christ? The relationship is characterized by an ongoing "getting to know you" desire. Our growth in "knowing" Christ comes by our faithful living; living that is marked by suffering (Paul's words) or embracing the same life-altering decisions that Jesus made. For example, Jesus considered "emptying" himself to be the appropriate model for living--not grasping (Phil 2.6f). Understanding life from the viewpoint of service is another.

Maybe then we would find our "knowing Christ" quest most alive and active when we purposefully engage in Christ-like attitudes and actions?

I guess it really makes sense. To know Christ would mean that we need to be in the places where he hangs out. And, as Phil. 3.10-11 make clear, we do so with joy--with resurrection hope!

From the Commentaries

I'm working and preaching out of Philippians these days and I'm loving the rich resources that are available. Yesterday I was reading in Karl Barth's classic exposition of the letter. There are so many little gems of insight from this theological heavyweight.

For example, on 3.8-9, Barth is commenting on Paul's phrase I consider my "history" as dung or rubbish in order to gain Christ and be found in him. He writes: "That is how the accent must be placed on order to see that this sentence is not a repetition but a vigorous continuation. It forms also syntactically the key to all that follows, up to and including verse 11. Skybala (the greek term) can without hesitation well be translated "ordure, filth, dung, excrement": it is a case of something that, once thrown away, is never touched agian nor even looked at. It is settled, fundamentally and immutable, that there can be no going back to--be it well noted, not my wickedness but my goodness. That goodness is over and done with and abides under judgment; must not have any form of lurking-place alongside of Christ."

Not much perhaps. . . . and yet, Barth powerfully points out that what Paul was relinquishing was all that was good--his best--to gain the presence of Christ. Letting go and never touching it again--wow!

I'm afraid that I look touching my "good stuff" way too often. Maybe the key is too see it as "skybala"--as dog poop--instead of keeping it all my good stuff on that kitchen table!

The Preacher

Another amazing testimony to the power of the gospel resides in a nursing home in Tucker, GA. His wife dead, his only daughter dead, and his body failing after three strokes, Lester still lives with hope. Even with his recent round at the hospital that included a pacemaker, he chooses hope over despair. Though deaf he hears the melody of God's grace.

Lester knows pain and suffering; he also knows the lonely night and the smell of death that always lurks in the corners and hallways of nursing homes. And he will tell you plainly that going home to be with God would be far greater than the quality of living that his broken body now offers to him.

And yet--he believes. And he tells others. Three Sundays each month Lester mounts his wheelchair and makes his way to the makeshift sanctuary of the atrium of that nursing home and preaches. A deaf man preaching the love of God to the broken and the aged, the forsaken and dying. People come and people hear what Lester can no longer hear but still believes. People hear because God is speaking through the brokenness of one man who lives his faith with passion--and with hope.

Isn't it just like God to use Lester to sing the melody of grace amongst the grating sounds of a nursing home?

Servant Hearts

What a sweet spirit! At 85 years and counting Ross exhibits the hope of Christian faith with perseverance and most of the time, with a smile. Obviously, he has experience much in this life that is hard and negative. Even now, as he prepares to leave for a few weeks to stay with his son in Dallas, he faces the realities of renal failure, the triple weekly trips to the dialysis centers, the slowly healing knee, and a body that simply doesn't work like it did 20 or 40 or yes, 60 years ago.

But through it all Ross encourages me everytime I see him. I want to face my ninth decade of life with as much hope as he does! And I want to maintain the servant spirit that he continues to foster. "Northlake is my church; that is where my life and service has been for over 35 years." And Ross has done just about everything he could do. And it didn't matter what title or acclaim or recognition came with that service!

Lord, give us more Ross's. And keep his faith strong--even as his body fades!