A Time to Laugh

Dumb Things I Gotta Do Today (Part 3.5 of 4)

Jesus didn’t die for the stupid things we do. He died for our sins. If I just call my sin ’something stupid I did,’ I’m not truly repentant.

Jim Berg, BJU Dean of Students

In my perceiving and (over)reacting to other’s rules (both spoken and unspoken), I remember my own. I’ve got a ton of them. I tell myself that I’m a good mom today if I read to my kids, if we get our Green Hour in, if we eat enough (any!) fruits and veggies, and if I don’t yell. And I’m a good wife if I manage to feed my hubby a nice dinner, if I keep the house picked up — vacuumed, dishes away, laundry folded — and if I have sparkling conversation ready for dinner. I’m a good person if I exercise, if I lose some weight, and if I walk the dog.

Sometimes I do these things fairly faithfully. But I’m no SuperMom — even if Gavin bellows, “MOOOMMMMMYYYY” every time he sees a Wonder Woman toy. I goof. I fail. I can’t even keep up with my own rules.

During the corporate prayers of confession at church, you know what comes to my mind? Stupid things. And I mean, things that are more attributed to my normal human limits, not my sin. The smocking projects that I haven’t finished. The terrible state of the too-often-washed downstairs carpet. The cucumbers I forgot about and let rot in the veggie drawer. Knitting mistakes. The dishes I left in the sink. The emails I haven’t answered. The rust on my tomato plants. The fitness program that I’m avoiding.

Tim Keller cuts to the chase on this one often when he divides us all between moralists and secularists. Either you follow corporate rules religiously or you express yourself shamelessly. Either you’re a neo-nomian or an antinomian. Either you’re the Prodigal that stays or the Prodigal that leaves.

And neither works. Both are as Godless as the other.

Martin Luther talked about it too. He compared the theology of glory with the theology of the cross. Theologians of glory push a “proper righteousness” that appears good and attractive. They are very busy but are puffed up, blinded, and hardened in their activity. On the other hand, theologians of the Cross feature what Luther reasons seems like an “alien righteousness” that appears evil and ugly. Since they feature God’s sovereignty over salvation, they believe much (instead of doing much). Luther sums it all up by saying that “the law says ‘Do this’ and it is never done. Grace says, ‘believe in this’ and everything is already done.”

Now I’ve been eating, sleeping, and breathing fundamentalism for 20+ years. I was an earnest follower, a committed apologist, and a firm ideologue. On top of that, I’ve devoted my professional life to trying to explain the way fundamentalists talk, and I don’t believe I should stop now that I’m just outside its walls.

In order for fundamentalism to work, you have to live it inside and outside and upside and downside. My brother’s prof at Ohio State, when he heard the salary rate at BJU, used to say “You can’t get bad people for that little. That salary guarantees a certain ideological devotion.” So the whole system supports a fervent loyalty. And if their ethic reads everything as a fight and then the fight turns internal and interpersonal, you end up scratching and clawing to prove that you’re loyal and to make sure you’re on the “right” (a.k.a. powerful) side.

Another way to say all that is to say that fundamentalists are expert moralists. Pros. Prodigals that hang around for years working to earn the Father’s love. Articulate theologians of glory. Their earnest sincerity only enhances their commitment. They believe in some sort of cosmic reciprocity for every deed. They see God as a taskmaster waiting to give bonuses to the good workers and charge fines to the lazy ones. I say this as a former fundamentalist myself. The moralistic side of Keller’s equation was my life.

And it still is. Don’t get me wrong. I still feel the Pharisee in me. I’m just fighting it now. There’s really not that big of a difference between me 10 years ago and me now. I know the Apostle Paul understood since he was a recovering Pharisee himself — the chief of sinners.

And so while the secularists overlook sin as merely normal expression, moralists hyper-focus on mistakes and call them sin.

What the moralistic theology of glory does is no different than noodling the rules for a card game or emotionally bludgeoning a playmate for not knowing an unspoken rule about which Barbie wears what. UGH! It’s such hypocrisy. I’ve erected this terrific set of rules (which looks an awful lot like a Dumb-Things-I-Gotta-Do-Today list), and I judge my cosmic worth on my accomplishing those things. It’s all part of those lies that we Christians tell ourselves in our scramble to live impeccably moral lives. We think if we can just do X-Y-Z we’re okay, and we judge everyone — or at least ourselves — by that standard.

My rules are not God’s rules. Plain and simple.

Don’t pick on people, jump on their failures, criticize their faults— unless, of course, you want the same treatment. That critical spirit has a way of boomeranging. It’s easy to see a smudge on your neighbor’s face and be oblivious to the ugly sneer on your own. Do you have the nerve to say, ‘Let me wash your face for you,’ when your own face is distorted by contempt? It’s this whole traveling road-show mentality all over again, playing a holier-than-thou part instead of just living your part. Wipe that ugly sneer off your own face, and you might be fit to offer a washcloth to your neighbor.

Matthew 7

The One About the Rules (Part 3 of 4)

We make rules. We bend rules. Humanly speaking, there’s really no difference between ours and theirs except power. I know I sound like Nietzsche and Foucault. But those guys were right really. Without God, it’s all about power.

Recently I found a couple of ugly and public things said about me. Honestly, it hurt. I probably shouldn’t let it, but it did. In both cases, the commenters were imposing their rules of propriety on me. They were judge, jury, and executioner. In passing their judgment, they put me at arms length to improve their own standing with little empathy for me and mine.

And in my saying all that, I’m trying to understand how they came to those conclusions and to remember how often I do the same.

I’ve perceived a lot of rules lately. I’ve seen the irritation from people who were frustrated by my dear four-and-a-half-year-old when he dresses as Link and wears all his weapons at once. I’ve felt the disgust when I’ve taken my preschoolers for a walk where someone has deemed I shouldn’t. I’ve heard people complain about how ill-tempered those other children are. I’ve read Mommy bloggers who grouse about those horrible mothers who cut off the crusts from their PB&J sandwiches.

Even now, I’m sure some of you are constructing reasons I shouldn’t have a clip from Friends on my blog. “Dear me! Can you believe that? Doesn’t she know that that’s an anti-Christian show and that she’s promoting unholy living by posting it on her blog? ‘I will set no wicked thing before my eyes!’ I would never do that!”

Sigh. . . . We can so easily see the fleck of mascara on someone else’s face, but those rivers of black eye liner that are streaked down our cheeks? We’re oblivious to those. And I do the same thing.

Grant often repeats back to me, “S/he’s not evil, just mistaken.” When he does that, he’s reminding me of my own take on a Burkean principle and what I believe is a Christian ethic. He’s right — to nudge me and to bring me outside of myself. To steer me away from the fundamental attribution error. We all need that kind of help. That’s why God gave us each other because when one of us stumbles, we need our friends there to help us up.

Sanctification is a team sport after all.

Singing Sola

I was perusing my first blog, and I found this post from a year before my Gavin was born. My blog tone was very different back then — more vent-ish, believe it or not. But I kinda wanted to have this one in the mix again. I still agree with what I said back then:

Proving sola Scriptura using sola Scriptura?

Why? Why this standard? Who says we must prove sola Scriptura using only Scripture? This type of challenge reminds me of radio personalities who dare their opposition to prove X with the promise of earning a million dollars. It’s a challenge never meant to be met.

Do you prove what is true Science using Science? No, not at all. It’s the nature of a principle or an idea. Centuries of modernity have evolved a cultural definition of Science. From Francis Bacon through Albert Einstien, if something has a certain smell of science, it’s Science. Religion is not science. Grocery shopping is not science. Coffee brewing is not science. No big whoop.

You might call that “t/Tradition,” sure, in the fact that it arises out of our culture and customs. I’m not one to get all bent out of shape over the fact that we accept a cultural standard as our ideal. 

But the principle/custom/tradition of sola Scriptura is different than an adherence to Tradition. And it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out. The fact of the matter is there are as many “Traditions” as colors in the spectrum. Do you do X, Y, Z, Q, R, or S? Who knows which one is best? One group insists on honoring this holiday; another says it’s six days later. How do you know which Tradition is correct? So a group of people centuries ago created the idea that the only Text that would be mandated would be Scripture. It was a Modern move. A principled shift. A well-reasoned change. A.A. Hodge discusses it in a rather antiquated discussion here. I, of course, cite that only for historical reference not as an endorsement. Essentially sola Scriptura argues that Scripture is the cornerstone, the centerpiece, the bottom line. And everything from there is up for grabs. You do what you wish. You have Christian liberty. 

Funny thing — those who insist on Tradition are also pretty singular in their insistence about which Tradition is right. They are pretty insistent that theirs alone is the only way. They are pretty top-down in their church government. They are the least likely to allow Christian liberty.

They are also the least “modern” in their customs. That’s not really a surprise. They are left in the Old World, cloistered in their beautiful cocoon. They also think that Scripture is mysterious and detached — that we need Tradition to interpret it. 

They also argue that sola Scriptura has led to corruption — violent parenting, poor governing, etc. Um. . . . how do I say this nicely? . . . Corruption is human. Laying the blame for corruption at the feet of sola Scriptura is ignorant, blind, and tragic (in the Burkean sense). We don’t need Tradition to be the checks and balances because truly only the Holy Spirit can do that. The Holy Spirit can use t/Tradition, sure. He can use sola Scriptura too. I just doubt that applying an arcane and ancient set of texts is the best solution to contemporary corruption. It doesn’t seem to be a good antidote.

Those who embrace Tradition say that they only embrace the Traditions that resonate with Scripture. Um. . . .  hate to tell you this, m’dears, but that’s called  sola Scriptura! 

Those attracted out of a sola Scriptura tradition into a Tradition tradition relish its exotic quality, its Old World spectacle. And that’s fine. Relish that. I can’t help but point out that those people come out of a shallow, silly Protestantism. Every one has a provincial perspective, a limited exposure to the robust Protestant intellect and Faith. 

And those of us who use sola Scriptura? We’re actually the more diverse, the more accepting of differences. We’re more tolerant, and more adaptable (hence less corrupt). We’ve chosen this one Text as sacred and inspired. In a sense, it’s a democratic, New World move. As critical as I have been in my life of Modernity, I admire its perspicuity. It whittles away the unnecessary to find points of agreement. I like the streamlined, four-square, modern quality to my set of traditions. For me, it focuses me on God. And I don’t think the Bible is like a tax code — impossible to understand without human intervention. After all, even a child, Christ said, can understand it.

I’m unmoved by the rather petulent insistence that we prove the validity of sola Scriptura with the method of sola Scriptura. Hmph. They’ll say I’m proving their point that “t/Tradition” is necessary. Well, I never said it wasn’t necessary. I said that I wasn’t going to elevate it to a Sacred Text. I’ll debate Augustine. I’m not debating St. Mark. It’s a choice I’ve made. And it’s a good one.

Get over it.

See? I’m not the only one.

From Phil Johnson:

The evangelical movement right now, at the beginning of the twenty-first century, is in a spiritual condition not very much different from the medieval church just before the Protestant Reformation. Think about it. Luther had to deal with Tetzel, the charlatan fund-raiser who went through Europe promising people miracles in return for money so that the Pope could build St. Peter’s church in the Vatican. We’ve got at least a dozen Tetzels appearing daily on TBN, promising people miracles in exchange for money so that Jan Crouch can make the sets of their television studios gaudier than any room in the Vatican while she adds enough pink hair extensions to rival the Dome of St. Peter’s.

The medieval church was overrun with superstition and ignorance. We’ve got people reciting the prayer of Jabez every day who are convinced that it’s a magic formula that will bring them wealth and good luck.

The medieval church had Leo X and Machiavelli. We’ve got Bill Gothard and Gary Ezzo.

The medieval church saw a decline in doctrine and morality in the church and a corresponding increase in corruption, scandal, and man-centered worship. All of that is true today.

Worst of all, in the medieval era, the gospel was in eclipse and people were so woefully ignorant of biblical truth that men in Martin Luther’s time could complete seminary and enter ministry without ever having learned “the first principles of the oracles of God.” We’re well on the road to that same situation today. Many seminaries are deliberately eliminating biblical and theological courses and replacing them with courses in business and marketing. And Christian leaders who call themselves evangelical are actually encouraging these trends.

And the solution isn’t to be more conservative, more hard-core, more punishing. Frankly, that’s as pagan as anything.

“Lub-dub, lub-dub!”

Grant rocks!

“Hier stehe ich, ich kann nicht anders, Gott helfe mir, Amen.”

Unless I am convicted by Scripture and plain reason–I do not accept the authority of popes and councils, for they have contradicted each other–my conscience is captive to the Word of God. I cannot and will not recant anything, for to go against conscience is neither right nor safe.

Here I stand. I can do no other. God help me. Amen.

Power to the People

Told ya!

“So blog it and clog it. . . .”

If you sit down to read a whole nest of fundy blogs (this one included) at once, you realize we’re a pretty preachy bunch. :lucy We’re always preaching a sermon. And not the sweetly pious one my mom was urging when she taught me the little ditty, “Do you know, Oh Christian, you’re a sermon in shoes?” No, it’s more heat than light. And it’s exhausting after awhile!

I think it’s in our weft and woof. I always say that my fundy students are better speakers than my secular students because they’ve been weaned on public address. Well, that public address is usually polemical, so I guess it’s only natural that when we open our mouth, a polemic is usually what comes out.

But I’ve realized something about this spot recently. When I’m the most polemical, I’m preaching to myself alone. It’s an outpouring of what the Holy Spirit is saying to me. So if you get caught in the crossfire, I don’t know if I should apologize or be thankful that God’s speaking to you too. :bowtie

Digging Bureaucracy

Eggheads say that the bureaucratic style eats all the others. It’s the great linguistic PacMan that thrives off the Realistic, the Courtly, and the Republican dots, munching them like vitamins. In other words, we’re all eventually bound and gagged by red tape. So the real danger is not chaotic diversity, but mind-numbing, power-hungry singularity. Goose-stepping unity is our real fear, not grass-roots chaos.

But information, like life, always finds a way. It seeps, leaks, and runs. It’s messy and invigorating.

I always thought digg got it. But it, too, has now jumped the shark. Their recent interview reveals that not only do they think they single-handedly control the messy users, but they have so beneficently gifted us with our own empowerment.

Thanks, but no thanks, gentlemen. We can figure it out quite nicely.

Culture Warrior by Bill O’Reilly

I admit. I’m starting with the one I like the least.

Please don’t buy this book. I can sum it up for you: A narcissist takes himself way too seriously and fantasizes about the war against him and Christmas by shadow-boxing those who claim he takes himself too seriously. Trust me, Bill. Christmas will make it just fine without you.

My brother’s right. The only way to get through this book is by hearing Stephen Colbert read it. Then it does have that truthiness quality to it.

Why oh why does Dobson recommend this?