Tuesday, March 15, 2011

intermission (2): love wins?



Rob Bell's new book "Love Wins" has been talked about day in and day out for the past couple weeks. His online promos make us ask, "What in the world is he going to say about heaven and hell?" Now, I haven't read the book yet (and doubt I will; don't have the palate for the guy), but from what I've gathered from excerpts, critiques, praises and condemnations, and from interviews with Rob Bell (as from the clip above), Bell buys into universalism. As much as he may deny it, the key point is there: God's love will win out, and people will respond to him in faith, even in death. Lots of people are loving this book, but lots of people--if not more people--are condemning it as heresy. My thoughts?

I'm no universalist. At all. There's no scriptural warrant for it. There’s an old mantra that goes: “Where scripture speaks, we speak; where scripture is silent, we conjecture.” I’m a fan of speculation as much as the next person, but speculation is fruitless without any bounds within which to speculate. At that point it becomes fanciful imagination. What I perceive Bell to be doing is fanciful imagining. He speculates, as do we all; but he does so outside the bounds of what scripture teaches. Scripture teaches hell. There’s no way around that. And scripture teaches that once you die, then comes judgment—no breath of postmortem opportunities for salvation. There’s life, and our choices and decisions in life affect our eternal destiny. Once the candle’s snuffed, the seal has been made. While I may be a bit heretical in my annihilationist perception of hell, at least there’s scriptural warrant for that; but what Bell is proposing—that all people, eventually, will be saved through Christ, won over by God’s love, thus leaving hell empty—is not just unsupported in the scriptures but flatly denied in the scriptures. And if we abandon the scriptures, and just go wild with our speculative and imaginative theology, there’s no limit to where we’ll go or what we’ll find. Good theology must have boundaries; and though the postmodern denies such a thing, that’s just the way it is (my modernist tendencies shine brightly here). Christians are free to come to their own conclusions via theological matters, but in my opinion they must come to such conclusions within the bounds of what the bible teaches. To do otherwise is to leap into uncharted and dangerous waters.

Another key point Bell makes is that of postmortem evangelism. He doesn’t say everyone goes to heaven when they die (a far liberal universalist position) but that people do go to hell, but during their stay there, God wins them over with his love. Once again, the New Testament is clear: after death, all that awaits us is judgment. There’s no second chance. Bell presumably works off a vague passage in 1 Peter, throwing context out the window and running with one interpretation and then wrapping all other eschatological passages around his specific understanding of this vague and obscure text. It’s one of the most common hermeneutical fallacies.

Some people call me heretical. They’ll jokingly call me a liberal. It’s ridiculous, really: I’m quite orthodox—sola scriptura all the way—and though I do hold some minority views on things, I hold them because I am convinced by scripture as a whole—“Let scripture interpret scripture”: don’t build a theology off a handful of verses, but read everything in greater degrees of contextual scope—and not because I just want to believe them. There are doctrinal things I want to believe in: eternal security, pre-millennialism (it’d be cool to speculate within that arena), and even Bell’s universalism. But I simply cannot, in good conscience, hold to them because the scriptures, in my understanding of them, do not warrant such a view. What we find in Bell, I think, is speculative theology wrapped in pretty lace that the immature and unsuspecting will swallow whole—and lots of people are gobbling it up. And it makes me wonder why. Because it makes sense? Because it’s scripturally valid? Because it sheds light on other things? Hell no. It’s swallowed up because it’s easy, because it’s comfortable, because it doesn’t make us worry about things. It makes it easy to “rest in God’s love” while simultaneously living a life of rebellion because we’re banking on his love to cover up our downright, obstinate disobedience. But I digress. Good night.

intermission: amanda's 22nd

Amanda turned 22 yesterday. I worked till noon and then ran down to Cincinnati. Amanda and I spent some one-on-one time together, and then we joined Blake for an outing at Rock Bottom Brewery. Our waitress kept cracking "That's What She Said" jokes, so we tipped her well. Blake got the Mac & Cheese; Ams got a pepperoni pizza; and I had the nachos. Blake exclaimed, "Man, none of us got anything alcoholic to drink!" I guess no one (surprisingly) felt like drinking. We returned to the Claypole House and Gambill joined us and we played some video games and crowded the sofas, then went upstairs with Mandy for a while. We turned up some Florence & The Machine and everyone was tired so we all just fell asleep sprawled about the room. I woke up and rubbed my eyes and went downstairs to smoke a cigarette with Amos on the front porch, and then Rob made a French Press (this was around 1:00 AM) and we shared some cups and then I returned home. 

It's kind of weird that Amanda is 22. I'm her older brother, and I'm glad I treat her as an adult, rather than crowding her life. Our friendship is afire and we respect one another, and I think that makes our relationship all the more better. Not that I don't look after her, or step in when I think I should step in; and she does the same for me (did it just the other day, in fact, pointing out some things in my life that need a second glance). Regardless, I'm so glad she's my sister, and I'm glad we're friends with the same people for the most part (truth be told, she steals my friends; and though sometimes I make a pretend fuss about it, I'm glad she does, because it's great to hang out with all them and her at the same time). I'm confident our friendship will continue till the day we die. Even if she went psycho and killed someone, I'd visit her in prison as much as I could. Because she's that awesome. 

Now to do some writing.
And then to curl up with Sky.
And then to go to bed.

Monday, March 14, 2011

30 Days (XXIII)

A Picture of Your Favorite Book

No surprise my current favorite book is by N.T. Wright. "What St. Paul Really Said" is remarkable by all accounts. Wright does an excellent job at showing how the very word "gospel" in Hebrew and pagan contexts comes together into a theopolitical message about YHWH, the God of Israel, who is King of the World as opposed to Caesar. Many of the churchy terms we Christians like to throw around in everyday speech--"the gospel," "the kingdom of God," "salvation," "peace on earth," "justification," even "faith", amongst others--are Greek words that Christians incorporated into their understanding of Messiah and what he did, bearing well in mind that the words themselves were political in nature. It's no small wonder that the early Christians were often accused of being subversive to the Empire. All that is just in the beginning of this small book; Wright also touches on his understanding of "justification" (it's more of an introduction than anything; he goes head-on with the topic in his book creatively-titled "Justification"). The final chapters have to do with Paul's message to the Jews contrasted with his message to the pagans. Overall it's a great book with a great many topics, giving an introduction of sorts to Wright's understanding of Pauline studies. 

Sunday, March 13, 2011

intermission: what a year so far

Let's see what 2011 has brought us so far. Uprising and overthrow of an Egyptian regime. Spreading unrest in the Middle East, burgeoning unrest in China. Japan's worst national disaster since Hiroshima and Nagasaki: 10,000 dead at this point with nuclear meltdowns and spreading radiation that will continue to kill long after the ground settles and the waters recede. Amidst all this, you have the nutty evangelical doom-sayers leaping up and down, pointing at the tragedies and shouting for joy that Jesus is returning soon. It makes me sick.

All that's happened is awful. But it's nothing new. Because we're in the middle of it right now, it seems so much bigger than everything else that's preceded it. Every year there are countless disasters and tragedies, and every year some hard-ass Christians take it as a sign that Jesus' second coming is quite literally just around the bend. You'd think that year after year and decade after decade of different disasters and over-the-top eschatological predictions, there'd be a bit of humility (or at least hesitancy) in declaring Jesus' imminent return. Last year I watched a documentary about premillennial expectations, about Jesus' coming in the very near future. The documentary covered a span of twenty years in the lives of various Christians and their eschatological hopes. What I remember the most is how at one point, one of the interviewees said she was sure Jesus would return before she had kids; then she was sure, several years later, that Jesus would come back before her kids reached high school; then ten more years, and she was sure Jesus would make his appearance before her kids graduated college; and then before her kids got married, and then before they had kids... It just stuck out to me because I wondered if she realized what was happening. Each disaster, each tragedy, each political unfolding convinced her Jesus' return was on the brink. And each time it appeared to be a "false alarm." Yet the prophecies and convictions continue, and they'll continue, and they'll continue, until--out of the blue--Jesus returns. Perhaps instead of getting all excited about these tragedies we should get down on our knees and pray for God's healing and mercy, God's restorative power, pray for flowers to emerge from the ashes, for God's kingdom to advance in the darkest and most shadowy sectors of our world.

Don't get me started on all the Jerusalem hype. This unrest in the Middle East has gotten more than a few people all up in arms about Jerusalem, as if the city and her temple were more important than anything else in Christian history. It's as if we fail to realize that the city and her temple were signposts to the Real Deal, the Messiah, and Christ took the place of the Temple and performed the functions of the Temple, and the Temple came under God's judgment; Jerusalem and the Temple have their place in Christian history, but it's not the place warranted them by many: they're redundant, symbolic graveyards. They've had their time. And as to Jerusalem's destruction being a sign of Jesus' coming, YES. I agree. But I also believe that it's already happened. Judgment already befell Jerusalem in A.D. 70. The city refused her Messiah and God judged her accordingly; vindication took place, but it wasn't the vindication of the Jews but the vindication of Christ and all his people. I guess what I'm saying is that all this focus and fascination on Jerusalem has no real warrant in the New Testament. Jerusalem's mentioned negatively again and again, except for the New Jerusalem, which is eschatological and spiritual in scope and discontinuous with the actual physical city of Jerusalem as it was then and now. Only when we do hermeneutical injustice to the texts can we build up some sort of eschatology that puts Jerusalem and the Temple in the center of it all.

I don't know where this post came from. I was going to write about brake problems with my car, adventures with Skyler, enjoying some time at home with Amanda. But instead this poured forth. Forgive me if my tone comes off as arrogant or blustered; that's not my intention. I'm not good at conveying tone on paper (see the post preceding this), and many of my closest friends hold to convictions which I don't share. Nevertheless, it's not a barrier to our friendship, toward our comraderie, towards our love for one another in Christ. Ultimately these matters are "non-essentials": in the early church, for example, there was no real consensus regarding when Jesus would come back or how it'd come about (though everyone agreed with what would happen when he did: resurrection, judgment--damnation or vindication--, and the recreation of the cosmos). The early church fathers encouraged individual Christians to come to their own conclusions but to co-exist in love and harmony, not letting these things come between them. Although I can be quite... domineering... in my attitude toward eschatological things, don't be persuaded that I loathe everyone who disagrees. Absolutely not the case. Besides, every group of friends needs a heretic to keep things interesting.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

30 Days (XXII)

A Picture of Something
You Wish You Were 
Better At

I'm a good writer. Or at least a decent one. I'm never wholly content with what I write, and I can point out all the flaws more than anyone. They say writers are always more critical of their own work than others, and that those who proclaim their literature to be "amazing" are experts at self-deception, and their writing is probably not worth a damn. I enjoy writing both fiction and non-fiction, and the rules of both are wildly different. Nevertheless, I wish I were better at articulating my thoughts on paper; and, even more so, I wish I were better at articulating my thoughts in person. Sometimes when I'm engaged in discussions on important subjects, I find myself stammering through a slew of disconnected words and phrases, mumbling incoherent gibberish while trying to explain myself. I often receive cock-eyed stares and lots of "uh-huhs" acknowledging the other person doesn't understand but wants to be sympathetic. Often I'll get frustrated and just write it out, and then they're like, "Oh, okay, that makes sense now." I can utilize figures of speech and writing styles to convey a point. But, unfortunately, there's no picture that would relate to me inability to convey what I want in the way I could do it on paper. I may be a poet but I'm certainly no orator. 

Friday, March 11, 2011

30 Days (XXI)

A Picture of Something You Want to Forget

There’s nothing I want to forget. Yes, at times, there were memories which plagued me with such intensity, that the only thing I desired was a life free of their clutch. Reliving those memories day in and day out brought such pain and overwhelming heartache that I felt stagnant, unmoving, listless. A feather stuck in a windless ocean. But unbeknownst to me, those traumatizing moments carved me into something different. More mature. More present to the moment. Thankful for all that happened. There are good memories and there are bad memories, but all are etched into the fabric of my life, and all have affected me and spurred my own personal evolution into the person I am now. If I forget the bad memories, then what am I left with? Only nostalgia of the good times. There will be no thankfulness for my current state-of-affairs. There’s nothing I want to forget. 

Thursday, March 10, 2011

intermission: birthday extravaganzas

My 24th birthday was this past Tuesday, and I celebrated Monday with my closest friends down in Cincinnati. Mandy made some delicious pasta, and Gambill asked off work so he could come. We had a great time just hanging out. Drinking beer. Smoking the hookah. Sharing love and laughter. Tuesday morning I had breakfast and coffee at The Anchor with Sarah, and then I returned home to enjoy my prime birthday gift: Skyler!


She's four years old, a German Shepherd-Boxer mix (and I suspect there's a bit of husky in there, too, the way she curls her tail). Absolutely adorable. She's a machine when it comes to playing fetch. She'll do it for hours without taking a single breath. Wednesday Jessica and I took her to Stubb's Park in the rain and Sky went crazy. It was pretty fun playing in the rain. Neither Jess or I had done it in years. We felt like we were kids again. Sky fell asleep in the car on the way home, and she didn't enjoy the bath I gave her--but she was rather supple about it, not a fighter. She understands that I'm in charge, which is nice. Because she's already four, she's potty-trained and doesn't go around chewing on everything she can get her paws on. She follows me around the house and climbs into my lap when I'm on the sofa or in the chair. We got her a bed and she sleeps beside me at night. Doesn't make a sound (unless she's dreaming). She's a marvelous dog, and I love her. And she's mine. Not Mom's. Not Dad's. She's mine. And, I don't know, but having full ownership over something alive, something you actually have to take care of, well, it's beautiful. I don't know. I keep sending pics of her to people, boasting about her, as if I'm a new daddy. Haha. I'm sure she'll start to annoy me soon, but in the meantime, we're living it up.

The Children's Westminster Catechism: Question 4

Question: How can you glorify God? Answer: By loving him and doing what he commands. We saw in Question 3 of the Children's Catechism th...