a few photos from the weekend

The Nature of the Church: Its Members, Identity, and Purpose

The Members of the Church. The church is not a building; it is a gathering. The Greek word used for church is ekklesia, and this word, in the ancient world, literally referred to a gathering of people called out from their homes to a public place to meet for an assembly. When St. Paul applies this word to Christians, he is speaking of members of God’s covenant who are gathering together; thus, while the dictionary proposes first-and-foremost that the church is a building for public Christian worship, the original sense of the church is the gathering itself. Who, though, are the members of the Christian church? When talking about members of the church, we are talking about those who are participants in the gatherings. In the days of the New Testament, there were gatherings spread all throughout the Mediterranean world, from the hills of Judea to—eventually—the mountains of Spain. These churches gathered, for the most part, in homes, and they were comprised of those who had come to faith in Christ. The Apostle Paul wrote letters to several different churches, especially around Greece and Turkey, and even to Italy (i.e. his epistle to the Romans). In Romans 1.7, as we have already seen, Paul identifies the members of the Roman church as those who are “loved by God and called [to be] saints.” Remember, the “to be” was added into the text (in the original Greek, it is not present). Paul is not advocating that the Christians in Rome need to start living holier and holier in order to become saints; he is not advocating the Catholic doctrine of “infused righteousness”; in the Greek, Paul is calling the Christians in Rome “loved by God and called saints.” Thus he is calling the Christians “saints.” They don’t need to work to be saints; they already are saints. In Ephesians and Philippians, Paul again uses this terminology. The Greek word for “saints” is hagios, and in the Jewish world, it meant something “set apart for God”; in the Greco-Roman world, it referred to “a holy thing.” Christians, then, are “holy people, set apart for God.” Paul identifies the members of the church as “saints”, and this term—used for those who are “in Christ”—influences the identity of the church itself.

The Identity of the Church. In 1 Corinthians 14.33, Paul reveals the identity of the church; in this text, he advocates orderly worship in all the churches of the saints. Thus, for Paul, the church is a gathering of saints. It has been said, in popular Christian culture, that the church is a hospital for sinners, not a sanctuary for saints. This is witty, but it is ultimately flawed. The church is not a hospital for sinners—interestingly, in the lens of Judaism and in the lens of which the New Testament was written, a “sinner” is not one who sinned, necessarily, but one who is outside God’s covenant. For someone in New Testament times to make the claim that the church is a hospital for sinners, the person would basically be saying that the church is a gathering of those outside God’s covenant! However, as Christians, who have shared in Christ’s death and resurrection in baptism, the members of the church are members of God’s covenant, called saints.

The Purpose of the Church. The church is a gathering of the saints, who are joining together for a purpose. That unifying purpose is the advancement of the gospel. The gospel’s advance is not limited by how many people come to Christ; rather, the advancement of the gospel is measured by how many people hear the gospel message and are given the opportunity to respond. Their response—whether positive or negative—does not affect whether or not the gospel message has advanced. A negative response by a person is not an indictment upon the gospel’s advance. The ultimate purpose of the church is the advancement of the gospel, and everything that takes place within the assemblies—from fellowship to service, etc.—falls under the pail of the advancement of the gospel. Sometimes, churches are unable to function correctly; that is, they are unable to proclaim the gospel and to make an impact on the society and culture in which the church exists. This was quite a concern of Paul; one brilliant example of this is the Corinthian church. The Corinthians were failing to live as a reconciled community, erecting divisions between various social classes, taking one another to court, etc. On top of all this, they were indulging in all kinds of wickedness that made even the pagan world shake their heads in shock and awe! The result of these divisions, conflicts, and immoralities was that the gospel message, though being proclaimed, was having no affect. No one had any desire to partake in the new religion of the Corinthian Christians; the Corinthian Christian community was one of divisions and immorality, and the Corinthians had enough of that, with social barriers erected all over town and hundreds of prostitutes waiting at the Temple of Aphrodite, asking for not even a penny for their services. St. Paul’s epistle to the Corinthians—1 Corinthians—deals with these issues. When it comes to his letter to the Romans, it is obvious that the Roman church is failing to operate in such a way that the gospel message can be communicated; when the church is rife with disorder and disunity, such as is the case with the Roman church where Gentiles lord over the Jews and the sync of community is shattered, the church is unable to do its job. St. Paul’s epistle to the Romans deals with this in a practical manner throughout Romans 12.1-15.7.

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Romans 13.11-14: The Church As An Eschatological Uprising

Besides this you know the time, that the hour has come for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed. The night is far gone; the day is at hand. So then let us cast off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light. Let us walk properly as in the daytime, not in orgies and drunkenness, not in sexual immorality and sensuality, not in quarreling and jealousy. But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires. (Romans 13.11-14)

“Besides this” refers back to what Paul has just written regarding the lifestyle of love that is required of the Christian community. Now Paul gives a reason to live this way: because the church is an eschatological uprising, an eschatological community, which bathes in a world drenched in darkness and sin, and as members of the eschatological community—called the church—the Christians therefore are to live in the light of the parousia—the light of the coming of Christ and the inauguration of God’s full-blown kingdom. Paul’s teaching involved the reality of the coming parousia (see 1 Thess 1.9-10, 4.13-18, which Paul wrote prior to writing Romans), and now he is drawing upon what the Roman Christians undoubtedly have been taught by the evangelizing leaders, and he is exhorting them to live in the light of the coming return of Christ. Paul does this beautifully and epically, utilizing apocalyptic imagery.

Paul’s usage of light and darkness as metaphors is an example of this apocalyptic imagery. He writes that the night is far gone and the day is at hand (thus the present time, what one could call “the time between the times”, is the dawn). He calls the way of living in the darkness “the works of darkness”, and Christians are to cast off such works and put on “the armor of light”—the lifestyle demanded of the Light (that is, God’s full and realized kingdom). He emphasizes this again by writing “Let us walk properly as in the daytime” (emphasis mine): Paul acknowledges that the Daytime—the restoration of the universe with the parousia—has not yet arrived, but Christians are to nevertheless live within this framework.

Paul writes that it is time for the Christian community in Rome to wake from sleep. “Sleeping” and its subsequent terms were used in Greco-Roman philosophy to refer to being inattentive to spiritual things; Jesus uses this language in the same way in Mt 24.43 and Mk 13.36. Paul may be referring to the antinomians in the church, addressing them specifically, telling them to wake up and start living as they should be living—that is, in the light of the parousia, living the life of God’s full and realized kingdom—the Daylight—in the here-and-now—the Dawn.

Paul describes what it means to live in the light of the Day. He writes that the Christians are to “cast off” the works of darkness and to “put on” the armor of light. Paul uses this same language in Colossians 3.12-14, where it is linked with baptism. The same language was also used in the early church to refer to repentance. “Which is Paul referring to here?” It is most likely that he is speaking of repentance, which involves turning one’s back on a lifestyle that is antithetical to the desires of God and embracing a lifestyle that is in accordance with the desires of God. Once again, this hints that this may be aimed at the antinomians in the church. However, Paul could also be using this language in the baptismal sense—“You have been baptized into Christ! Act like it!” would be the equivalent. Other scholars believe that Paul is simply borrowing Greco-Roman philosophical language, where “putting on” refers to adopting a moral lifestyle. Whichever route is taken, the end result is the same: the Christians are to abandon the works of darkness and to embrace the armor of light (philosophers often described the battle with the passions in athletic or military imagery; this popular imagery infiltrated Jewish writings of the day, such as the Wisdom of Solomon, where Moses’ armor or weaponry is prayer and incense).

It is worthwhile to note how Paul describes the “works of darkness”—orgies, drunkenness, sexual immorality, sensuality, quarreling, and jealousy. Orgies, drunkenness, sexual immorality, and sensuality were classic trademarks of pagan parties, where all the vices mentioned were practiced late into the night. While it may seem that Paul is simply condemning pagans, we must remember that Paul is writing to the Roman Christians, and that he would not be mentioning this if it were not an issue within the church. Remember from Romans 6-8 that antinomians in the church were delving head-first into sin, preaching that God’s grace covered their blatant immorality. The culture of Rome consisted of such parties, and no doubt many of these antinomians were engaging in them without a care in the world. It is likely that Paul is again directly combating them, condemning their pagan revelry—“This is not in line with your identity in Christ, with your baptismal life, so stop it now!” Paul also mentions quarreling and jealousy—internal dissension. This is a perfect lead-in for what he deals with in Romans 14.

The church is God’s eschatological community, called to live holy lives in the patient expectation of Christ’s second coming and the total victory of God. As the church waits, it is to live as if God’s victory has already been made complete. In a sense, the Christian community is to model “heaven on earth”; it is to exist as a radical, counter-cultural community where the virtues of love, selflessness, sacrifice, servitude, and generosity trump the “works of the darkness” such as selfishness, greed, and indifference towards both God and man. The church, as a collective whole, is to model the character of Christ—it is, after all, the Body of Christ—and to exist as a microcosm, an ecosystem, of the kingdom of God here-and-now.

it is hope that keeps us alive

There was a time in my life when I was suicidal.

I remember standing on a bridge over the Ohio River, wanting to throw myself off.

I remember staring at that inky black water that refused to reflect even the full moon’s radiance.

I remember wanting nothing more than to leap, to feel the wind, to feel the water… and then to feel nothing.

Hope is a beautiful and dangerous and wonderful and painful thing. I have always been fond of describing hope this way: “Hope is like barbed wire: the tighter you hold on, the more painful it gets.”

What is the function of Hope? Why does it exist? Do we hope simply because it is a fantastical escapism from the painful realities of ordinary life? Or do we hope because we know, deep down within our hearts, that something is wrong with the world, that something isn’t quite right, that the life we’re living NOW isn’t the life that we were DESIGNED to live? At one time I believed that hope found its source in man’s fantasies and imaginations, that hope was a cocktail of desire for something more and desire for less of what we have. But I have been thinking about hope, and I believe that hope is something that is nestled deep within every human creature, a small element that speaks to us in whispers and dreams and fairy-tales, telling us that what we experience HERE and NOW is not what we were MEANT to experience. Hope tells us that there’s something missing within our universe, within our lives, within ourselves. It tells us that there is more to be grasped, that there is the possibility of a greater and more wonderful life, a kind of life that we were designed to experience.

Isn’t it odd that when you try to suffocate hope, hope refuses to die? It has been said that when you kill hope, you embrace resignation–the acceptance of fate as “an elegant, cold-hearted whore.” I don’t think that’s right. I think that when you try to kill hope, hope refuses to be killed. Because when you kill hope, you have killed everything within you that speaks of a greater world. And when you kill hope, the only permissible fate is suicide. Because without hope, we are left to understand the world as a brutal, unforgiving, relentless world where suffering reigns and happiness is an illusion. And if that understanding–as false as it may be–is called one’s own, then that person will, ultimately, kill him(her)self.

I didn’t throw myself from that bridge.

I went back to the car, got inside, and drove home. I was suicidal for five more months.

Every day and every night I wept.

I became a recluse, and I started cutting myself.

But never deep enough to drain my body of four pints of blood.

“What was it that kept me alive, what was it that kept me from drawing the knife against my wrist, kept me from tightening the noose around my neck, kept me from swallowing countless pills, kept me from driving my car at 90-mph into the median, kept me from throwing myself from that bridge?”

It was hope within me.

Small. Seemingly inconsequential.

But it was there.

And it showed itself in my tear-stained journals, daring to reveal itself through the pen.

Hope is a beautiful and dangerous and wonderful and painful thing.

It is hope that keeps us alive.

the fourth week

Monday. I didn’t fall asleep until 3 AM and missed Genesis 1-11. I barely made it to my 9:45-1:00 shift on time. Ams and her roommate Emily came in to keep me company. I ate lunch with Karen in the coffee shop, surprised that it wasn’t awkward, and then I slept until 3:10 before heading to President’s Hall for The Gospel of Mark. Gambill and Kyle are taking it, too. At 6:00 we went to dinner in the cafeteria. Faikham and I hung out for most of the evening. She cried because she’s been homesick a lot lately and she misses her mom. I tried cheering her up by buying her a hot chocolate. She got cheery again, and we sat on the sofa in Student Life and looked at pictures on Google Images of her hometown in Thailand.

Tuesday. All classes were cancelled today because of a foot of snow, so I slept in till about 10:00 and walked to Summit View for a cigarette. Jessie and I worked at the Hilltop, and I spent my shift shoveling snow from the sidewalks around the café. Faikham and I made snow angels, and we went sledding and I sliced open my finger on the jagged ice. I built a kickass igloo with Nate and Kirby, and I couldn’t feel my feet for three hours. We had a mandatory dorm meeting in Foster Hall. Jobst spent the night in my dorm room because he couldn’t get back to his apartment.

Wednesday. Another snow day. My sliced finger hurts. I ran out of smokes so I walked down Glenway Avenue to the footstop. It was eerie. No snow has been cleared, there were no cars, just deadness. I spent most of the day in the Hilltop with friends: Faikham, Jessie, Deshay, Stupid Farmer, Mikaela, Kyle, Gambill, and Ams. A bunch of got together to watch the show Arrested Development on a projector. At night Justin came into my dorm room, sat down, and talked to me about Jessie. It’s official: they book like each other.

Thursday. School is back in session. I slept through my morning shift at the Hilltop. I went to Geology with Jessie, and then we went to the café to hang out. At 5:00 Mikaela showed up, and we went to the Oratorium and got to know one another. At dinner, Katie sat down with the Wright Brothers, and not wanting to be seen with her, they got up and left. So I left my table with Jessie and went to sit with her. After dinner Katie and I went to the Worship Ministry building and talked; she told me about her relationship with Dylan Wright. It broke my heart, it really did. I almost wept for her. She’s been so manipulated, used, and abused. She is privately praised and publically shunned. She’s been beaten and bloodied and left abandoned in a pool of her own tears. She’s been ravaged, and she’s in need of rescue, redemption, resuscitation. I felt numb after we talked, and I crawled into my bed and wept. I didn’t weep for me but for her.

Friday. It took me thirty minutes to get my car out of the snow. Katie and I had lunch together. Ams and I drove to Dayton separately for a meeting with Dad at our bank. Chris came over for a while, and we hung out. Jessie called me late in the night, crying. “Beast, you’re pushing me away.” I denied it. But what if she’s right? What if I am pushing her away? What if, due to my conscious fears of losing her to Justin, I am subconsciously doing exactly what she claims I am doing? Maybe I believe that pushing her away will lessen the pain of losing our friendship?

Saturday. I worked at 11:00, showered, and went to Joe’s clinic. New depression medicine and some high-tech bandages for my gruesome finger cut. I got my hair cut short and spent the afternoon drinking coffee and working on Dwellers of the Night. I returned to campus around 8:00, went to the Hilltop and hung out with Kyle, Jessie, and Katie. Gambill joined us. He was in a bad mood. I played a game of Outburst with Kugler, Deshay, Faikham, Avon, and Katie M. Back in the dorms Stupid Farmer and I played Flight Simulator 2004.

Sunday. I was sick most of the day, and I slept until 5 PM. I spent the evening hanging out with Katie, Deshay, Justin, and Ams. I took Faikham to WalGreens, and she told me, “You’re so cute.” She was in a good mood. A bunch of people went to Steak & Shake, but Faikham and I just headed back to campus and hung for a while in the Worship Ministry building.

Flight of the Concords

I wanted to share that video from "The Flight of the Concords", a New Zealand folk rock band that is going into Season 2 of its own H.B.O. Series. I liked their music before I saw the television show, and I must admit, I am a big fan. It ties in with House, The Office, Family Guy, and Arrested Development--all great television shows.

I have been put on a different medicine for my bipolar disorder. Starting these types of medicines is always difficult because of the physical effects they have upon me. For instance, whenever I would begin taking Depakote, I would be stricken with nausea, an aching body, great drowsiness, inability to concentrate and pay attention, etc. I’m on a different medicine now, and I was sick for most of today: nausea, dizziness, blurred vision. All side-effects of the medicine. *sigh* I wish there were a medicine out there that didn’t make me miserable as I transitioned into it. Oh well. I’m going to give it a decent chance. At least I’m happy during all of the physical pain. Hopefully this time I won’t toss out the baby with the bathwater (tossing out the medicine due to the ill physical effects), and hopefully this time things will work out better for me.