glimmers of hope

Pacing about the vine-covered porch at Winton Ridge, I couldn't take my eyes from the rain-soaked cardboard box filled with all of Mandy's love letters and the True Love Begins As Friends woodblock she gave me this past January. The night she broke up with me I carried the box over to John & Brandy's and left it there to soak in the summer rains. The classic recourse is to set them afire; I wanted to let them weather rainstorm after rainstorm until the ink had bled, each and every word erased. Walking back and forth across that porch, I felt again the gnawing conviction that what happened came directly from God's hand, that He answered my prayers and then took her away to bring me grief, to punish me for my sins. That makes the loss all the more unbearable: I feel like it could have been avoided, that the reason she called everything off is because God put it into her heart to do so, since His whole plan was to cause me pain because I'm not a "good enough" Christian. This conviction both stems from an insecurity regarding my position before God, and simultaneously fuels that insecurity. It's a torturous cycle: I feel like I'm the "black sheep" of God's family, the one who just can't get it right, the "family burden" (if you will). 

Really, I've felt this way for a long time. After Julie broke up with me for one of my best friends in 2006, I saw God behind it, punishing me for my sins. In the aftermath of Courtney cheating on me and then dating (and marrying) the man with whom she cheated, I blamed it on my own failures to lead and be sexually pure. I didn't blame Courtney, as if cheating on me were exonerable and "no big deal." The real issue in all that was my own sin. When everything with Sarah happened in 2009, I interpreted that as God putting me through hell because (you guessed it) I just wasn't cutting it as a Christian. And now, with Mandy, I'm doing it all over again: I'm blaming it on myself for my own sin, thinking that if I was "just a little better" God wouldn't have done this to me, wouldn't have turned her heart against me, would've blessed us and prospered us and enabled us to flourish. The fault always comes back to me. Everyone else may blame her for what happened, seeing as she's the one who got freaked out (and that's really what it boils down to: she just got scared, and the pressure of that fear was too much for her to handle); but I see her freaking out, I see her speaking false assurance into my heart, I see her speaking so thoughtlessly, and I think, "God put terror in her heart. He made her give false assurances to further this divine deception. She spoke thoughtlessly because God blinded her. God used her as a tool to hurt me." The reason I think this way is because of my insecurity regarding my position before God.

Let me put it this way. Here is the gospel: everything I think I am, I am, and more. "As good as you think you are, you aren't. As bad as you think you are, you're worse." That's Biblical Anthropology 101. We are under God's wrath and estranged from Him. We are under His judgment, and we deserve to pay an exacting price for our sin. But in Christ, there's redemption, the forgiveness of sins. He who knew no sin became sin in our place, and on the cross He suffered the wrath we deserve and paid the debt we owe to God. In Christ there's reconciliation: we're made right with God, we're at peace with God. He is gracious and peaceable towards us. We are justified, standing before Him not as sinners but as those innocent of breaking His law. And not only that--we are adopted, made members of His covenant family. He looks at us not merely as men and women innocent of breaking His law; He looks at us as His own children. The wrath we deserve was poured out onto Christ, exhausted on Christ, and so we Christians stand before God not as recipients of His wrath but as recipients of His mercy, grace, and love. We still have sin in our lives, but we stand on solid ground before God, clothed in righteousness. simul iustus et peccator: at the same time righteous and a sinner. That is the gospel. And here is what lies at the heart of my insecurity: the fear that I am not 100% forgiven, the fear that I remain under the wrath of God, the fear that when God looks at me He can see only my sin and rightly sees none of my righteousness (because I've got none). It is the fear, if I may be so blunt, that the cross wasn't enough. Helpful, sure; at least now I can get my foot in the door. But is it effective? I know, logically and biblically, that the cross is efficient, that it's not merely helpful but sufficient. But rooted in the insecurity is the fear that the cross got me halfway there, and now I need to pull myself the rest of the way, becoming sinless (or close to it) so that God can look upon me with pleasure rather than disappointment.

I went to Bible college. I know these fears aren't biblical. Did you receive the Spirit by doing the works of the law or by believing what you heard? Having started with the Spirit, are you now ending with the flesh? My insecurity--that I'm not good enough to warrant God's mercy, grace, and provision--is founded upon heresy, and the trickle-down effect scorches so many different aspects of my life, not least my own "walk with God," or my communion with God, or the "experiential aspects" of my relationship with God (whatever phrase you want to use). I'm locked in a pattern of being afraid of what He will do to me, since I know that I am so deeply sinful and that sin will always be present in my life. I feel like I can come to Him only as a weak, broken, stumbling child who never gets it right and warrants only disappointment. When I go to pray, I feel weighed down by my guilt, chained by shame, and I can't find the right words because what do I deserve to say? 

Knowing my sin, the response is to be repentance. The Spirit convicts of sin; that's one of His main functions. Matt Chandler, in Recovering Redemption, writes, "Christians are not confined to... trying so hard to act like we're not sinners, or to act like our sin is not really that big a deal--at least not as bad as it seems when we're the most bummed out about it. But, yes, it is. It's bad. Majorly bad. And the sooner we realize this, the sooner we can start experiencing renewed confidence in our relationship with Christ, even in our need to repent for our sins and to plead for His help in strengthening our soft spots. Because as believers in Him, that's exactly what's supposed to happen." Repentance is a lifelong process, and until that day we're wholly remade in the new heavens and new earth, we'll never reach a point of being done with repentance. I grit my teeth and repent, and I can't celebrate any victory over temptation because each stumbling is a failure that brings all of repentance crashing down. If repentance were a house built of cards, that one failure, that one instance of succumbing to sin, tears the whole house down. I don't see God celebrating my victories and prodding me forward after my stumblings, secure in His forgiveness and love; I see Him calling every victory a sham in light of one stumbling, I see Him telling me that my repentance isn't genuine unless a flip is switched and one day I'm perfect. Every time the house of cards collapses, I become awash in despair at my own condition, and convinced that I'll never be good enough for God, I am so tempted to resign altogether. The repentance staggers, since I fail to realize that the repentance God desires isn't a "perfect repentance" but an "unfinished repentance," the repentance of running the race set before me and not being waylaid by our moments of weakness, stupidity, apathy, and downright hardheartedness. Quoting Chandler again, "Repentance is not just the beginner course; repentance is lifetime learning. The goal of Christian living is not to get past the point of needing to repent, but to realize that God has made us capable through Christ of doing repentance well--repentance that the Bible calls 'godly' in nature--what the apostle Paul described as 'repentance leading to a knowledge of the truth' (2 Tim. 2:25)--repentance that leads to real change. At the root level. Where it can grow us up into character and consistency and confidence in Jesus' power and strength, fully at work in our pitiful weakness." Perceiving myself as the one who just can't get it right, the one who will never reach a point of holiness good enough to warrant His favor, I am pulled deeper into the chasm of insecurity. 

Further, this insecurity, this conviction of inadequacy, holds me back from embracing the freedom of a life wholly surrendered. I know that none of us are qualified to do God's work in the world, and that God has a peculiar propensity for choosing the unqualified, but the inadequacy I feel convinces me that I'm just too inadequate, too unqualified for what I feel that He has called me to. I fear I'll never be good enough to preach or teach, and I fear that if I surrender to Him every aspect of my being, leaving nothing for myself, then He will take my life and ruin it. I feel that I must put to death my dreams of being a godly husband and a godly father, my dreams of being involved in vocational ministry; those are for people far better suited to the task, far more holy, than I am. So you see, this insecurity of my position before God affects so much in my life, and a (if not the) reason I have such hesitation to truly trust God in everything is that I fear that if He is in control, He will do nothing but harm me because of my sin. Pacing back and forth on that porch, I thought about all of this, and then came a whisper in my ear: "Christ bore all of God's anger towards you. Christ suffered the wrath you deserve for the sins of which you're so aware. Christ has freed you from the curse of the law. All of your sins--every single one; the ones you know about and the ones you don't; the sins you hate and the sins you concede; the sins you've committed, are committing, and will commit--ALL OF YOUR SINS are forgiven. You stand before God not as a disappointing child but as a beloved son. You stand before God righteous, holy, and innocent. You stand in God's favor. You are one of His chosen. Your life is bathed in His mercy and grace. His disposition towards you is not that of an enemy, but that of a loving Father. 

And let me tell you something: as the Spirit whispered those words into my ear, something, in that very moment, changed. A better word might be "altered." I stood there looking out at the trees, and there came over me a certain peace, a certain freedom. I felt like I could breathe again. I watched the lightning bugs twinkle in the trees and felt the cool wind in my face, and I felt just a little bit more alive. I felt liberated, delivered from the chains that hold me back from becoming the person whom God wants me to be. Strength flooded my veins, and I was hopeful. I felt hopeful because if I am truly loved by God, if I am genuinely one of His children, if I really stand in His favor, if He is actually for me rather than against me, then I can trust Him. I don't have to explain everything that happens in my life, and I don't have to interpret everything with Mandy through a lens of God's divine disappointment and disapproval. I can be freed to believe that He really does have something for me in this, that the benefits of what transpired will outweigh the suffering endured, and that He is using all of the things in my life, the Good and the Bad, to further conform me to the image of Christ, to draw me closer to Him, and to carry me down the road He has set before me. There's a lot of healing that's needed in my life, and not just healing in the wake of everything with Mandy. There's been a need for healing for years upon years; I need to be healed of these insecurities, I need my communion with God to be restored; and in this healing, there's freedom. If everything with Mandy really was orchestrated by God, I can rest in Him, knowing that He did it for my good and His glory. I'm reminded of a third quote by Matt Chandler: 

Realize, from revisiting Genesis 1, that God has already shown us how He can take what is formless, dark, and empty--which, perhaps, is exactly the way you feel right now--and breathe His precious life into the most lifeless of situations. Making it... good.

a cosmic post

I met with Jess, my boss's boss, and we talked about me giving up some of my hours with Walk of Joy. I picked up a lot for the purpose of (a) saving up for Wisconsin and (b) to make up for shifts lost at Tazza Mia. The cafe was supposed to close at the end of May, but building politics got the better of us and we're still trucking along. I've been so stretched thin that taking on less responsibility will give me time to relax. I'll have my Friday evenings free, and I'll have Mondays off, and I'll be able to breathe a little easier on Thursdays (plus I'll be able to start going to Young Adult Group at U.C.C.!).

All the other planets would fit between earth and the moon.

I haven't written much about how life has been outside the excruciating heartbreak. Honestly I sit here trying to think of things I can say. I can't deny that my thoughts are 98% on Mandy and the eviscerating loss. It's all I really want to write about because it's all I can really think about. She'll never know the extent of the pain she's caused me, and she's blessed to be dwelling in naivety up in Wisconsin while I'm trying to keep myself from losing my mind. The attempts to prevent total loss of sanity have included countless trips to The Anchor where I journal and drink coffee, working out every day, and spending as much time as I can with friends. I'm so thankful for the friendships I have here in Cincinnati--Blake & Traci, Amos, John & Brandy, and Ams--as well as the friendships I have elsewhere (such as Jessie, who's been a good ear to vent in). If it weren't for these people in my life, I'm sure I would have self-imploded by now. I've also been going to Dusmesh a lot after working out, and I force myself to not get stuffed. That would defeat the purpose of working out.

It's probably an alien space station. 

I'm in Blue Ash, and Ben is getting dressed and Jay is watching Meet the Fockers. I have that movie memorized; I've probably seen it upwards of 120 times. I'm not even kidding. We're going to a "softball picnic" here in a couple minutes: lots of food, lots of drinks, and lots of crazy people running around. It should be a good time. And tonight I'm going to be seeing Blake & Amos, so I'm definitely looking forward to that. Tomorrow I don't work until 3:00, so I can stay up late if I want (but I'll probably be passed out by midnight). 

of monks and armadillos

This is an attempt at a lighthearted post; it's difficult, since my heart isn't too light at the moment. It's been a real struggle to be patient with my clients, and the fact that I haven't killed Ben is a testament to God's hand in my life. When my patience isn't at an all-time low, I can always just take a moment and pause and listen to the words that are coming out of his mouth. Like that time he exclaimed at the top of his voice in the car after I told him how I was going to climb all the trees and tear the wings off the birds at the Zoo, "You can't go kill all the birds of prey at the zoo! They will NOT like it! They will kick you out and tell you NEVER to come back!" Or that time he explained how babies are made; it involved penises touching, the doctor having talons, and a pair of pliers. He's always hilarious, you just have to have the patience to find him funny. On another note, HISTORY:

That's pretty bad-ass. 

I'd take one over my Hobbit Hole anyday. 

I feel like I'm doing good considering everything's that happened with Mandy. Dad told me, "I'm surprised you're holding up so well. If that'd happened to me when I was with your mom, I don't think I would've held up so good." Experience helps; for each heartbreak and disappointment, there's just that much more cynicism to soften the blow of expectation. Not only that, but after Julie I was so depressed I considered killing myself; after Courtney I couldn't shake the thought of her and Kyle getting married, and it made me nauseous day-in and day-out; after Sarah, I was haunted by dreams of her and Billy getting all sexed up in front of me. I've been getting better at dealing with these things. My soft heart has survived; ragged, sure, but alive nonetheless. All the experiences teach me that no matter how bad it gets, no matter how incapable I am of seeing anything (or anyone) in my future besides her, that's not the case. I met Courtney after Julie; I met Sarah after Courtney; I met Mandy after Sarah. And I'll meet someone else, and maybe, fingers crossed, it'll work out. All this to say, I wouldn't claim that this has been "easy" for me. Disappointment, anger, grief, depression... It's a bitter cocktail, and it's not conducive to strength. I've stumbled a few times, but I'm still walking, still standing tall, even, against the rain (cue Jay-Z, Rihanna & Kanye West). When people were asking me, "Why did this happen?" I wanted to quote Tobias Funke: "I don't want to blame it all on 9/11, but it certainly didn't help."

If a post (sorta) begins with history, it should culminate with... this?

Little known fact: the Dark Ages, a period of several hundred years where human progress virtually ground to a halt (medieval warfare, rampant superstition, and pestilence tends to hinder society), put technological advancement "back" 500 years. It's been estimated that during the time of the Reformation, had the Dark Ages not occurred, we would have been flying planes and landing on the moon. That's the 16th century, folks. That's right on the cusp of discovering the New World. 

"Imagine that, Stan! Christopher Columbus on a Sea-Do!" 

Let's make ourselves some action figures.

[worn]

I'm tired, I'm worn.

My heart is heavy from the work it takes

to keep on breathing.

I've made mistakes, I've let my hope fail.

My soul feels crushed, by the weight of this world.

And I know that you can give me rest,

so I cry out with all that I have left...

Let me see redemption win.

Let me know the struggle ends,

that you can mend a heart that's frail and torn.

I wanna know a song can rise

from the ashes of a broken life,

and all that's dead inside can be reborn,

'cause I'm worn.

I know I need to lift my eyes up,

but I'm too weak, life just won't let up.

My prayers are wearing thin.

Yeah, I'm worn, even before the day begins.

Yeah, I'm worn, I've lost my will to fight.

I'm worn, so heaven come and flood my eyes.

Let me see redemption win.

Let me know the struggle ends,

that you can mend a heart that's frail and torn.

I wanna know a song can rise

from the ashes of a broken life,

and all that's dead inside can be reborn,

'cause all that's dead inside will be reborn.

of an angel and a devil

I feel as if God's telling me, "Trust Me in this." But it's so damned hard, because everything I've trusted Him with has been reduced to rubble. I trusted Him with Mandy and sought to honor Him in all that we did, and this is where my trust brought me. If I trust Him with my life and seek to honor Him in all that I do, I tremble to think of what the outcome might be. It's that old adage about an angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other. There's a voice telling me to trust God in this, to keep focusing on Him even when He seems so distant and apathetic, a voice telling me that He will provide for me and take care of me and bring me healing, a voice telling me that there is indeed hope in Him. Then there's another voice telling me that such trust is ill-placed, that I would have to be an idiot to keep trusting Him when it's obvious He doesn't care and won't help. Some would say the first voice belongs to the Spirit and the other to the devil. Others would say that the first voice is wishful thinking coupled with hopeless desperation and the other is the cold voice of rationality. The problem is that I don't know which is true. I lean towards, and crave, the former interpretation of these "angelic voices"; but the second interpretation has the bedrock foundation of actual experience while the first is built upon a conception of God that has yet to be experienced in my life. At times I feel strong for clinging to God, and then there are moments when I feel like a foolish boy who just needs to stomach the fact that I'm left out here alone and absent hope.

For more than ten years my dream has been to be a good husband and a good father, and that dream has brought me nothing but pain. I'm thinking the best thing I can do is simply give up on it, to accept the fact that I look too young, I'm too short, I'm too small, too quirky, and too introverted to experience that dream. When life teaches you lessons, you'd better pay attention. The lessons of my life (not least the lessons taught me by the Wisconsinite time and again) are that (a) women generally have no interest in me and (b) even women who love me will find reasons to look elsewhere, and after stringing me along with false assurance and deceptive trust, they cut me out of their lives and leave me alone to tend to my wounds. It doesn't matter the depth of my love, my devotion, my fidelity, my sacrifice. There's always something that makes women think I won't be a good "life partner," regardless of whether or not they love me. The cost of love is always--ALWAYS--pain and disappointment. Not for everyone, but at least for me. It's my curse, my burden to bear, and for my own emotional sanity, the best option is to close off my heart, to stop fighting the callousness, to stop being the naive boy hoping for a better future. I'm a good man and a loyal lover, but I'm not worth keeping around long-term. Sometimes you just need to grow up, and growing up means embracing reality and condemning fancy as fantasy and living in accordance with the world as it is. 

I'm not going to give up hope, even though it's feels like the most logical and sane thing to do. I can't give up hope, because then there's nothing keeping me from taking the razor against my wrist. I will continue hoping, I will continue praying, I will continue striving to obey Him even though I'm terrified of what He will do to me if I give myself over to Him fully. I really do hope that He starts listening, that He starts helping. In the words of the psalmist, I hope He gets off his ass and starts doing something. Jessie told me that God has a way of breaking patterns when we least expect or changing our desires. My prayer is that He deliver me from this constant stream of disappointments by either answering my prayer or making me not desire that which lies so strong in my heart. 

The Storm

[books i've been reading]

The Gospel's Power & Message. The first book of Washer's "Recovering the Gospel" trilogy focuses on key elements of the Christian message: the sinfulness of man, the righteousness of God, Christ's death as propitiation and redemption, and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. 

The Gospel Call & True Conversion. Book two focuses on the elements of conversion--repentance, faith, and confession--and God's act of regeneration. Coming from a Calvinist perspective, he sees regeneration as happening prior to conversion. Regardless of whether you place regeneration in the miniscule moments before conversion or at conversion, his analysis of regeneration is one of the best and most coherent that I've read.

Gospel Assurance & Warnings. Here Washer tackles the doctrine of assurance; or, in other words, he seeks to answer the question, "How do I know I'm saved?" Paul tells us to examine ourselves to see if we are in the faith, and Peter exhorts us to make our calling and election sure. There are biblical ways to tell if you're a Christian or not, and he addresses both false assurance ("I believed or believe, and therefore I am saved") and biblical assurance. For the latter, he goes through the Book of 1 John, pointing out how God's people can be seen by their growth in holiness and love for God. In other words, justification produces sanctification, and thus sanctification proves justification. 

here we go again...

Come the end of 2014, I want to look back on the last six months of the year as being as good as the first six. This involves, not least of all, making the changes I want to make in regards to my health. I quit smoking for a while when Mandy and I were together, but I picked it up again as soon as she broke up with me. I was smoking two packs a day mid-June to calm nerves frayed with grief, anxiety, and insurmountable anger. Getting back in shape means quitting smoking, but it also means more than that. Thus I'm bringing back the Reformation (and I don't mean the Protestant one; Ams has no idea what I'm talking about). I want these next six months to be marked by me getting back in shape, and I've been following a schedule:

Monday - Cardio

Tuesday - Weight Training (alternate A & B)

Wednesday - Cardio

Thursday - Weight Training

Friday - Cardio

Saturday - Weight Training

Sunday - Free Day

I've also been doing pushups and pullups each morning, and pilates before bed. I've started running again (per the schedule) and ran a mile twice this week (I missed one cardio session because of... *cough*... laziness). My weight lifting schedule alternates between Workout A (arms and legs) and Workout B (chest, shoulders, abdomen). I've been eating really healthy, too, and I'm excited to see what the results will be by December. 

I'll be posting updates and pictures (guard against lust!) about every six weeks.

And I'll always make a ridiculous face in the pictures.

(since it's embarrassing I have them, anyways)

[my life in brackets]

I've been out of college longer than I was actually in college. I really expected things to be different by this point, but such is life. Out of nothing more than flippant curiosity, I've sketched out the last ten(ish) years of my life:

The College Years

Freshman Year. These were the days of hanging out with John, Caleb, Brian, Rob, and all those good fellows. I remember these as hopeful, awesome days. I lump Sonja into my freshman year (you know it's not good when you don't learn how to actually pronounce her name until after the relationship is over), and I worked for Springboro Community Schools during the summer and frequented The Garage.

Sophomore Year. Things took a turn for the worse this year. I dated Julie, and then she broke up with me to date (and marry) Tim. I was heartbroken over it and almost killed myself. Jessica was my "rebound," and then Courtney and I got together. I lost my virginity to her, and then she cheated on me with Kyle, broke up with me, and then married him. I was depressed again, but not like I was over Julie. I spent the summer working at Joseph Badger Meadows with Kyle A. and Amos.

Junior Year. I suffered heartache over Courtney for half my Junior Year before dating Karen. Karen and I had a decent relationship. We got along really well and hardly ever fought. I did my preaching internship in Minnesota over the summer, and when I got back Karen and I started arguing a lot and then I broke up with her. 

Senior Year. These were the days I was hanging out with Kyle, Gambill, Jessie, Faikham, and Deshay. I started getting to know Mandy K. and ended up liking her. I told her how I felt at the Overlook, and she shut me down before graduating with her Associates and heading back home to Chicago.

The Post-College Years

The First Year. I lived at the Lehman House with Ams and Sarah. I fell hard for Sarah and then she brought a boy home and all but slept with him in the basement. I couldn't handle it and moved back to Dayton, where I started working at Spring Valley Starbucks. It took me several months to get over Sarah, and then I felt nothing but thankfulness that we didn't work out. I spent my days working and hanging out with Dylan, Tyler, and Pat D.

The Second Year. The Starbucks Days wrapped up after befriending Carly and Jessica, falling for Jessica, almost dating Jessica, and then being "turned out" by Jessica. I started smoking weed and moved down to Cincinnati to be with my friends and to "be cool" in the hopes that Jessica would change her mind. She didn't. These were the glamorous days of the Claypole House and working at Tazza Mia before it turned into a shitshow. Mandy K. and I reconnected at the Beechmont Starbucks, and we started talking a lot. I went up to Wisconsin to see her and then she changed her mind about dating me.

The Third Year. Mo and I went on our first date January 1st. We went on a couple dates. Rob and Mandy left for Portland, only to get divorced later down the road. I had my health scare in May and spent most of the year pitched over with nauseas paranoia. The Claypole House era ended, and Blake, Isaac and I moved into Park Avenue. Mandy K. and I almost reconnected, and then Mo and I did reconnect. That autumn Mo and I experienced some hard times and life-changing decisions, and we supported one another through it all. We broke up.

The Fourth Year. Mo and I got back together, and we dated until Valentine's Day when I broke up with her because I realized I loved Mandy K. John's dad died from lymphoma, and Mandy moved to Cincinnati from Portland to be with Isaac since his mom died from lung cancer. Mandy K. and I started talking that fall, but after a day at the Spa she decided to date someone else. That really pissed me off. I moved into the Hobbit Hole and started working at Walk of Joy.

The (Post)Post-College Years.

The Fifth Year. Mandy K. and I reconnect and we start dating. She says she loves me and wants to marry me. I work my ass off to move up to Wisconsin, and I move half my stuff up there. Mandy K. changes her mind again and puts me through hell. I cut her out of my life and try to salvage any semblance of hope.

That pretty much gets us up-to-date.

I'm REALLY hoping the (post)post-college years won't be a big disappointment.

I really thought these years would be marked by laughter, love, and family. And all of that with the Wisconsinite. That's not how it's turning out. I'm hoping I can salvage something out of this year. I spent the first half in love and optimistic about the future; I'm honestly frightened to see what these next six months bring. I'm not anticipating September when I can't stop thinking about how I'd be in Wisconsin, or November when we were planning on spending Thanksgiving with my family, or Christmas when we planned on spending it with hers. 

I really hope there's a break in this pattern. 
I've been brave, I've been proactive, I've risked so much. 

And every time it's come back to haunt me. 

Maybe God can break the pattern. 

It's what I'm praying for. 

But am I hoping for it? In any realistic sense? 

I don't even know.

monsters meet vintage art

the christian life: a sketch

Paul Washer, in his book The Gospel Call & True Conversion, gives a snapshot of what conversion and growth in Christ by the power of the Spirit looks like. 

* * *

“[Here] is an individual who hears the gospel and makes a profession of faith in Christ. He is not sure what has happened to him or how to explain it. He just knows that something is very different—that he is different. He begins to see his former life in a new light. The things in which he once delighted—and even boasted—seem wrong and shameful to him. He begins to take interest in Christ and wants to know more about Him and His will. He seems estranged from his old friends and finds better company among the saints. As he continues on, he experiences progress in his growth to maturity, but he also faces challenges and all-too-frequent failures. He delights in the will of God but finds that he is not immune to temptation. He battles against the world on the outside and the flesh within. He rejoices in the grace of God that enables him to overcome and laments the times he fails. He finds in himself a great contradiction. He listens to sermons and reads books that cause him to delight in Christ as the end of all desire, and then a few moments later he must struggle with a lukewarm heart. When he reads the Word, he receives great consolation, but it also pierces him like a two-edged sword and exposes sin that was before unknown. As he progresses further in his pilgrimage, he becomes acutely aware of God’s paternal control of his life. Sometimes the discipline is slight, but at other times, it seems as if he is being scourged without relief. A few times, he even thinks of walking away, but he cannot. He cannot bear just the thought of being separated from Christ, and so he returns, “weak and wounded, sick and sore.” It seems to him that the Christian life is three steps forward and two steps back. He sins, but he cannot continue in his sin; he falls, but he cannot remain fallen. He seems to climb one hill just to go down the other side. However, little by little, he is ascending, progressing, growing. In all this, the good and bad, is inescapable evidence of conversion. All true believers are able to identify with this scenario.” 

(111-112)

* * *

This is comforting to me, because so often in my struggles against sin, and in my striving to be like Christ, and in those moments when everything feels so dry and empty, I start to wonder, "Am I really saved?" It's a guilt complex, or something akin to it. 

on total depravity

I've been studying Calvinism for several months now, and I've come to appreciate Calvinism's coherent approach to theology. The system makes sense. Do I believe it? No. But before I get into why I don't believe it, I have to say this: although I disagree with some of the finer points of Calvinistic doctrine, I've found that I agree with 90% of what they have to say. The debate between Calvinism and Arminianism--between Bondage of the Will & Freedom of the Will, and all the implications--has skewed things so much that people on either side of the debate start thinking that the disagreements are insurmountable. In fact, Calvinists and Arminians agree on most things in regards to the Christian faith, and although I believe in free will, conditional salvation, and the danger of "falling away," I've learned so much from the books I'm reading, and I've been quickened and strengthened in my faith. 

So: "Why do I disagree with Calvinism?"

The answer: I don't believe in Total Depravity.

And without Total Depravity, the entire Calvinist system falls apart.

Here's what I mean: Total Depravity comes as the first letter in the TULIP acronym created to highlight "benchmark beliefs" of traditional Calvinism. As the "T" in the acronym, Total Depravity is the foundation of the following four points. Total Depravity declares that the entire human race is totally depraved as a result of Adam's sin; this depravity is so pervasive that man in his natural state won't choose God because he doesn't want to choose God. Thus, God must choose man before man chooses God. God, then, must decide whom He will save, and He does this prior to the creation of the world; this is Unconditional Election, the "U" in TULIP. Having decided whom He would save, God limited the suffering of Christ to the exact number of the predestined; this is Limited Atonement, the "L" in TULIP. Because of total depravity, the elect are unable to choose God without God's intervention; this is Irresistible Grace, the "I" in TULIP. God bestows faith upon those chosen to receive it, and this bestowal of faith is so irresistible that the chosen cannot refuse it. The P in TULIP is the Perseverance of the Saints, in which God guarantees that those whom He has chosen will never lose the faith He has given. If anyone "falls away" from an earthly perspective, that is simply evidence that he was never saved in the first place, since anyone who is saved cannot fall away. The entire Calvinist system rests upon the authenticity of Total Depravity: if Total Depravity is true, then it follows that the Calvinist system of theology is true as well. Conversely, if Total Depravity is NOT true, then the entire Calvinist system collapses. 

My reasons for rejecting Calvinism are four-fold:

(1) Partial Depravity was the consensus of the Early Church. Those who don't hold to Total Depravity are often accused of holding to the teachings of Pelagius, who went head-to-head with Augustine over the issue of "Original Sin" (the idea that mankind inherits both guilt and depravity from Adam's rebellion in the Garden of Eden); while Augustine laid the foundation for Total Depravity, which the Reformers would build upon, Pelagius believed that people were born sinless, in a state of purity, without any inherited effects from Adam's rebellion. Pelagianism, however, is NOT the only other option. Partial Depravity--the belief that mankind inherits a sinful nature from Adam, stands guilty for personal sin, and is able to exercise free will--has been misappropriately called "Semi-Pelagianism." When Augustine and Pelagius went head-to-head in the theological arena, Christendom found itself polarized between the two. Those who didn't swing left to Pelagius nor right to Augustine were caught in the middle; these were the ones who clung to the traditional view of what has been called "Partial Depravity". Historically, partial depravity originated earliest with Irenaeus in the late 2nd century A.D.; he declared that all people are "born in sinfulness." Tertullian in the early 3rd century declared that "every soul... by reason of its birth, has its nature in Adam..." Origen, also in the 3rd century A.D., declared that "[no] one is free from defilement, not even the day-old child." The marked difference between partial depravity and total depravity is the belief that although mankind is indeed depraved--and very depraved--free will remains intact, which leads me to Point #2:

(2) The historical consensus of the early church was that men have the responsibility and ability to choose or reject Christ. Adherents of total depravity insist that mankind's will is in bondage to his sinfulness to such a point that he is unable, not as a victim but as a culprit, to respond positively to the gospel, since his natural inclination is to hate God and to hate righteousness; therefore, God must regenerate him prior to conversion so that he can make the choice of the will to turn to God and live. To say that mankind isn't totally depraved isn't to say that mankind is pretty good (Pelagianism is heresy). The Bible is pretty adamant through-and-through that mankind is downright evil, wicked, and rebellious. I agree with all the major tenets of Total Depravity with the exception of the bondage of the will. I disagree because if the bondage of the will were so adamantly taught by Paul (and a handful of Pauline texts are used as proof-texts for Total Depravity), then why did his successors tend to think the opposite way? What makes more sense: Paul taught Total Depravity, and his successors taught Free Will? Or that Paul didn't teach total depravity, and his successors were in league with him? Entire research papers have been written quoting the apostolic and early church fathers on the subject of free will, so here are three of the most poignant I could find:

Justin Martyr (2^nd century A.D.): “And again, unless the human race have the power of avoiding evil and choosing good by free choice, they are not accountable for their actions…”

Minucius Felix (3^rd century A.D.): “For God made man free, and with power over himself… That, then, which man brought upon himself through carelessness and disobedience, this God now vouchsafes to him as a gift through His own philanthropy and pity, when men obey Him… so, obeying the will of God, he who desires is able to procure for himself life everlasting.”

Hippolytus (3^rd century A.D.): “[Jesus] might exhibit His own manhood as an aim for all men. And that by Himself in person He might prove that God made nothing evil, and that man possesses the capacity of self-determination, inasmuch as he is able to will and not to will, and is endued with the power to do both.”

Origen (3^rd century A.D.): “This also is clearly defined in the teaching of the Church, that every rational soul is possessed of free-will and volition.”

Arnobius (3^rd century A.D.): “To all, He says, the fountain of life is open, and no one is hindered or kept back from drinking. If you are so fastidious as to spurn the kindly offered gift… why should He keep on inviting you, while His only duty is to make the enjoyment of His bounty depend on your own free choice?.. Nay, my opponent says, if God is powerful, merciful, willing to save us, let Him change our dispositions, and compel us to trust in His promises. This, then, is violence, not kindness nor the bounty of the Supreme God, but a childish and vain strife in seeking to get the mastery. For what is so unjust as to force men who are reluctant and unwilling to reverse their inclinations, to impress forcibly on their minds what they are unwilling to receive.”

These early Christians don't hold the same weight as scripture, but they do offer us windows into the thought processes of the early church. It seems evident that the concept of free will and the ability to choose or reject the gospel were widely-held in the church era following the apostles. John Calvin noted this, as well, and accused the early church fathers of "caving in" to Greek philosophy, adding in his Institutes, "[Even] though the Greeks above the rest--and Chrysostom especially among them--extol the ability of the human will, yet all the ancients, save Augustine, so differ, waver, or speak confusedly on this subject, that almost nothing certain can be derived from their writings." Thus Calvin affirms that the vast majority of the early church fathers ("all the ancients") believed in free will, even though they differed on points. Calvin insists that nothing can be gleaned from the early church fathers, with the sole exception being Augustine. Augustine stands as the "odd man out" in a sweep of patristic approaches to free will, and since Calvin's theology is dependent upon Augustine being right and everyone else being wrong, of course he insists that Augustine is the only one we should pay attention to. So let's pay him some attention with Point #3.

(3) Saint Augustine laid the foundation for Total Depravity off a mistranslation of Scripture in the Latin Vulgate. "Original Sin" is the teaching that Adam's descendants inherit from Adam's "first sin" both guilt and total depravity. During the Reformation Era, both Luther and Calvin agreed with Augustine on the subject of "Original Sin," decreeing that Adam's sin had two consequences for the entire human race: every person is born in a state of total depravity (or in Luther's terms, "Bondage of the Will"), and every person is born guilty and condemned for Adam's sin (since Adam is mankind's representative), unless God intervenes. Major proof-texts for Original Sin include Psalm 51.5 (Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me), Psalm 58.3 (The wicked are estranged from the womb; those who speak lies go astray from birth), and Ephesians 2.3 ([We] too... were by nature children of wrath, even as the rest...) These texts on their own prove nothing; the "linchpin text" is Romans 5.12-21. Augustine built the foundation for Original Sin off his interpretation of Romans 5.12, but the Bible he used, the Latin Vulgate, had mistranslated the Greek text. Nowhere in Romans 5.12-21 does Paul speak of the guilt of Adam's sin passing on to his descendants biologically. Jewish teachers of Paul's day taught that Adam's disobedience introduced sin and death into the world, and that all his descendants shared in his guilt (4 Ezra 7.118; 2 Baruch 54.15); at the same time, they acknowledged that Adam's descendants shared in Adam's guilt because they willingly chose to follow in his footsteps (4 Ezra 7.118-26). Paul's writing in this passage reflects the Jewish conviction that Adam introduced sin and death into the world by his act of disobedience in the Garden, that the guilt of Adam passed on to his descendants, but this guilt didn't pass on biologically but by the individual choices of his descendants to engage in willful acts of disobedience. It is by personal choice--not intercourse--that mankind becomes his or her "own Adam." In this passage, Paul isn't arguing for "Original Sin" (a concept he wouldn't have been aware of); rather, he's contrasting Adam and Christ. Adam serves as an antithetical foreshadowing of Christ in the sense that just as Adam, by his disobedience, ushered in a certain type of age (characterized by death, condemnation, and judgment), so Christ, by his obedience on the cross, has ushered in a certain type of age (characterized by life, justification, and righteousness). This text puts the spotlight on the apocalyptic meaning of Christ's cross and how a shift in cosmic history has been inaugurated. All this to say, "Original Sin" (which laid the foundation for Total Depravity) is derived from a misinterpretation of one Pauline text and has little secondary support. 

(4) The language in the New Testament implies that mankind has a choice to obey or reject the gospel. The New Testament is littered with passages that make it clear that people are able and expected to respond to the gospel in faith and repentance. Those who hold to Total Depravity must insist that faith and repentance aren’t human responses to the gospel but divine gifts imparted to those elected before the foundation of the world. Acts 5.31 and 11.18 say that God granted repentance to Israel and to the Gentiles, but this means that He’s granting these groups (rather than individuals within the groups) the opportunity and means to believe and repent. Ephesians 2.8 is used to show that faith itself is a gift of God; Paul writes, For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God. A better reading based upon the Greek grammar is that we are saved by grace, as God’s part, but through faith, as our part. Faith isn’t a gift of grace and a result of regeneration but a response to grace and a prerequisite for regeneration. Another pertinent text is Ephesians 1.13, which reads, In [Christ] you also, when you had heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and had believed in him, were marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit… Here “hearing” and “believing” are aorist participles, suggesting that these acts—hearing and believing—precede the action of the main verb (sealing with the Spirit). The point is that (a) the New Testament throughout calls people to faith and repentance and (b) responding to the gospel appropriately results in the receiving of the Holy Spirit. If Total Depravity were true, (a) the calls to faith and repentance would fall upon deaf ears without the aid of the Holy Spirit, and thus (b) the Holy Spirit in regeneration must precede faith and repentance. It seems, however, that faith and repentance precede the Holy Spirit.

So there are four reasons I don't hold to Total Depravity. Holding to "partial depravity," I don't affirm Pelagius. I believe depravity cuts to the very heart of man, and that we are pervasively evil, even if we retain the ability to choose or reject God. Scripture paints a bleak portrait of the human condition (Martin Luther encapsulated it well with his phrase homo incurvatus en se, "humanity turned in on itself"), and my own heart reveals that depravity remains part of who I am. I'm at heart a selfish, arrogant, prideful, self-indulgent, sinful human being. God has made me a "new creation" and by His grace I've made long strides towards holiness; but any introspective look at my heart and life reveals caverns still in need of God's light, dark recesses where my sinful inclinations continue to kick and scream. If there's any argument against pelagianism, that argument is ME.

#collages

The heat got to them...

Just having some fun on the farm!