Church Advertising You’ll Probably Never See

“Don’t come to this church expecting to be fed. – Unless you’re willing to help feed others.”

“Come late. Kneeling room only.”

” ‘Nobody’s perfect’? Well, there’s an exception to every rule …”

“Jesus died for His brothers and sisters. The least you can do is move to the center of the pew for them.”

“We’re tired of doing church, too. Whaddya say we just follow Christ?”

“Sometimes you can find coins in the pew cushions.”

“None of the other churches wanted our kind. You know, our kind: Sinners.”

“Come Sunday for the improvisational performance. Our PowerPoint projector’s down.”

“Drop by Sunday. You never know when God may show up, too.”

“Church dismissed this Sunday night. We decided to go paint an old lady’s house instead.”

“Come sit in our regular pew and see how Christlike we act about it.”

“Services for all ages: Mesozoic, Jurassic, Triassic ….”

“We believe in evolution. In fact, we’re for making talking serpents an endangered species.”

“Special memorial Sunday for all those who died in the services. First and second services.”

“Our elders have approved using eBay when selling your goods to give to the poor.”

“Ananias and Sapphira might have gotten away with it if they hadn’t driven the Bentley and the Rolls to church.”

The Neon Flamingo Light of Grace

I was a crank last night.

All day, in fact. I woke up cranky, achey and headachey, and in spite of all the ibuprofen I went through like butter mints, I didn’t get any better.

It was a bad day to be that way. I needed to get a lot of stuff done. And Angi was to host her bunco group at our house in the evening.

So I dutifully fetched the kids after school and whisked them off to the pizza buffet for dinner, with a brief stop at the Game Exchange which my 9-year-old daughter Laura did not want to visit but my 13-year-old son Matthew did. She didn’t want to go see a movie, either; though there were a couple playing that would have been good bets.

The pizza was not at its best, and the kids quarreled non-stop. At the claw machine, Laura squandered the seven dollars she had earned helping stuff church bulletins. I did not stop her. I took her to Party City instead, where there were many attractive things that money could have bought. Then we went to Toys R Us, where there were more. And thence to Garden Ridge, where there were still more. Then to Target. I didn’t lecture. But I didn’t advance money, either. I was teaching conservatism, thrift. And by the time we needed to return home, I wasn’t the only cranky one.

Matthew had checked out in secret at Garden Ridge with a couple of treasures he found on the clearance tables. I didn’t pry. He had bought an “American Army” video game earlier in the week, against my wishes, but had been good enough to ask my opinion first. I thanked him for that, and told him I would draw the line at games rated “M” that his friends’ parents permitted, but games rated “T” he could buy at his discretion. He is a teenager now. He doesn’t always choose wisely, or as I would choose for him – but he has to learn to choose.

So I was surprised – pleasantly – that he chose to give one of his two new purchases to his disappointed little sister in the car on the way home; in fact he had bought it for her because he thought she would like it. It was a $3 battery-powered, neon flamingo lamp, marked down from $10. He had bought himself one that was an 8-ball – he has become quite the billiards fiend. But, as he explained later – showing me the package – most of the other lamps available were things like martini glasses and signs that said “BAR.” He knew I wouldn’t approve, and he didn’t want any of them.

Then I got home and, unilluminated by the neon light of grace I had just seen, acted even more like a complete idiot.

I went to replace the batteries in my 17-year-old programmable master remote control ($99 from Radio Shack back then – insert appropriate Tim Allen noises here) and discovered that it had, for the first time, lost all of the programmed settings when I removed the old batteries. So I slumped into an easy chair and grumpily began re-setting all of them from the individual remotes, grousing and fidgeting about all my tired aches and pizza-inflated gut.

I did not help my sweet wife clean up after her bunco party.

Usually, I am pretty good about doing things like that – I had helped dust and vacuum before it – but, even though she had thanked me for taking care of the children, I did not offer to help clean up last night. I just sat and programmed. She even offered me one of her world-famous homemade dinner rolls, hot and fresh out of the oven, and I let it grow room-temperature cold while I programmed.

Angi doesn’t nag. It’s not in her nature. She gently dropped a hint or two, and I picked up on them: “Well, I finally got everything tidied up.” “Oh … your roll is getting cold.” But I did nothing. Except eat the roll. I’m not stupid; I just act stupidly.

I didn’t sleep very well last night. I didn’t deserve to. Because I missed most of that good sleep by trying to justify my ignorant behavior, which no amount of crankiness or achiness can excuse.

What I should have done this morning is to apologize. (In fact, there needs to be a Hallmark card for situations like this; one that says on the outside “You have a perfect ass,” and when you open it on the inside it reads “Me.”)

By the time I can give Angi the flowers and the apology she deserves face-to-face this evening, she will probably have forgotten my boorish behavior altogether. She’s like that. She understands grace; she even embodies it.

And she doesn’t even need a neon flamingo light to remind her.

A Generous Eschatology

First of all – I know I shouldn’t borrow titles from books I haven’t completely read, but the title of this Brian McLaren opus fits too well to pass it up.

Because, secondly, what I want to write about is eschatology – “end” things – and I want to remain completely generous in my view toward them and toward others’ interpretations of them.

Thirdly, my byword on this and many other subjects is a disarmingly honest “I don’t know.” I can afford to be generous about my stupidity because I lose nothing by confessing it. I don’t hold any advanced degrees, nor does my lowly professional position require one. Same for my reputation and my ego.

Finally, to the point: I favor my unique view of Christ’s (ongoing) return because it is generous. It’s generous with God’s greatness. God is the Person whom, Peter tells us, regards a day as a thousand years and vice-versa. So, about three of His years could equal about a million of ours. Or the reverse! I’m certain, in fact, that one of those thousand-year-long days for Him was the day His Son hung on a cross.

God’s greatness remains undiminished by our limited perception of it. I think He understands that, and expressed His eternal truths in the simplest possible terms for our impossibly simple minds.

It’s also generous with the potential lifespan of the earth – “Men come and go, but earth abides (forever?)” implies the Preacher. “The earth and its fullness are God’s,” observes another inspired writer of antiquity. That means I have a responsibility toward it; toward generations that may well follow me. I may be part of the humanity charged with subduing it, but we’re not charged with selfishly wasting and destroying it.

The “new earth” promised to His children might be parallel to this one … but it might also be this very one, completely renewed, currently only a shadow of its glory to come. And that fate could still be consistent with Peter’s description of its total destruction at some point in the future. (Think of that “Genesis wave” sequence in Star Trek II and III, except animated by God.)

Can children who have wasted a gorgeous, delicate, precious toy be trusted to be given another that’s even more fabulous?

So I’m generously willing to concede a lot of points offered by differing views of eschatolgy – excepting, of course, those which are inarguably contradictory to what God reveals in scripture.

But – can I say “in the end”? – the view of a continuously-unfolding eschatology that I tend to favor gives me the same level of comfort and discomfort that I find in the rest of scripture – and for the same reasons.

Not A Biblical Concept

So, I’m sitting around here trying to prepare to begin co-teaching a class on the Revelation to John – something I haven’t taught since teaching a junior high class in Springfield, Missouri almost ten years ago – and I’m suddenly wondering:

“Where does the phrase ‘end of time’ come from?”

Because it sure ain’t in the Bible.

“End of the age” or “world,” yes. “End of all things,” yes. “There shall be no delay any longer,” sure – in heaven as announced by an angel swearing all over the universe to the truth of it.

But no “end of time.”

There’s no “end-time” in there, either.

No single “tribulation,” although there’s one singled out as “great.”

And “rapture” is only hinted at – once, I believe. To mean “caught up,” or “snatched up.”

We sit in our churches and gladly sing “… and time shall be no more,” but shall it?

Won’t there just be a lot more of it in eternity? Won’t it just be a lot different from this age or this world?

I know I’m pickin’ nits here, and mite-y tiny ones at that, but …

What if there really ain’t no “end of time”?

What if death comes to all, except for those whom Jesus and his angels snatch up here and there, now and then; followers who have gone His way, collected by the score and the hundreds and the thousands every minute of every day?

What if we can’t know the day and the hour because it isn’t a single day or a single hour – except for each one of us, individually?

What if God chooses to perpetuate this troubled old globe for another few million years? Will the power of the gospel of Christ diminish to valuelessness over than span? Will technology and democracy and freedom and man’s inherently decent nature finally perfect ol’ planet Earth? Will sin cease to exist? Will people ever create some other way to live forever?

What if God chooses to prove His eternal righteousness to the angels who fell by demonstrating that the good news of Jesus’ sacrifice and resurrection never loses its capability to draw people close to His heart, even after entropy has increased and the sun has burnt out and mankind has fled to distant worlds orbiting far-flung stars?

What if God maintains for his collected family a new Jerusalem on the new earth within the new heavens on a whole ‘nother playing field of time … where entropy doesn’t increase and bodies are incorruptible and moths don’t consume white robes of righteousness and rust doesn’t ruin heavenly treasure and thieves don’t break in to steal it because they’re changed completely from the heart and besides there’s more than enough to go around for everyone?

Is all of that not a biblical concept, either?

Or is it some kind of revelation?

What’s Wrong With This Mental Picture?

A recent study suggests that people who are deeply committed to a political party philosophy have no difficulty ignoring facts and substituting pure emotion for reasoning in defense of their views.

People who are deeply committed to a political party philosophy are generally the ones who rise to political party leadership and become elected officials, one would naturally conclude.

So, as function of probability, a generous number of our elected officials have no difficulty ignoring facts and substituting pure emotion for reasoning in defense of their views.

(Repeat this post’s headline here for emphasis.)

The Hope of Glory

Well, I might as well get into it. I got started thinking about it in my last post. I wondered how seriously we take the idea that God is in us.

Because it’s obvious to me that His Spirit is intimately involved in preservation of unity.

When Paul wrote to Colossae, Christ was in the saints – though it was a mystery.

His Spirit was in the prophets before He was born among men, when they sought the details of that incarnation to serve those who would follow them.

His Spirit was in David, who begged that the Spirit not be taken away from him when he sinned against God.

It was His prayer to be in us.

If His Spirit isn’t in us, we aren’t His.

His Spirit is how He seals us as His own, and guarantees what He has promised later.

His Spirit is how He strengthens us from within.

His Spirit is how God pours out His love into our hearts.

Our bodies are His temple.

So it’s a question more important than whether the Spirit works apart from the Word or how He works or whether He still works today. Because if He dwells in followers of the Word throughout Christians’ lives, it’s inconceivable that He could be a freeloading parasite, sponging off of the prophets of His book. It’s a question more important than how can we know He is in us, because He said He would be and when God says He’ll do something, it’s as good as done. It’s more important than any question raised by the advertisers of GatorAde because it has to do with the water of life, the Spirit of God, the hope of glory:

Is He in you?

Taking Things Too Literally, Part II …

Subtitled: The ‘Only One Way’ Syndrome

This is a part two that’s a long time coming, so I’m going to quote part one from many months ago below:

Who would read Paul saying that “I beat my body” and conclude that beating one’s own body must be the one and only way acceptable before God to keep from “disqualifying for the prize”?

Who would read Jesus saying “If your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out” and conclude that blinding one’s self in one eye would be the one and only way acceptable before God to “enter the kingdom of God”?

Who would read Paul saying that “… women will be saved through childbearing – if they continue in faith, love and holiness with propriety” and conclude that this is the one and only way that any woman can be saved?

Who would read Jesus saying that “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me” and conclude that asceticism and carrying (or just wearing) a wooden cross is the one and only acceptable way to follow Him?

Who would read Peter saying that “… this water symbolizes baptism that now saves you also ….” (1 Peter 3:21) and ignore the word “also” and – apart from any other scripture about belief, confession, repentance, grace, His sacrifice – conclude that baptism alone is the one and only acceptable way to be saved?

We can take things too literally. We can take them out of context. We can skip what we don’t like, don’t comprehend, and/or don’t want to deal with.

We can even take the absence of any mention of furniture in New Testament churches and conclude that the one and only acceptable piece of furniture in the Lord’s house is a table – and that must be all right because the gospels mention it at the Last Supper.

However, we do so at our own peril. And that peril is not from physically beating ourselves, physically half-blinding ourselves, or physically failing to reproduce …

… but spiritually.

The part of this diatribe I didn’t write then was about the “only one way” syndrome. It’s the feeling, belief, or foundational world-view that there is only one right way to “do” or “view” any given item – and, of course, that the Bible reveals it clearly and fully in every instance.

I grew up seeing those “Jesus People” T-shirts with the one-way street sign featuring an upward-pointing arrow. Maybe that’s where the idea came from. But I think it pre-dates the 1970s.

Certainly there is only one Way, one Truth, and one Life. There is only one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of us all who is over all and through all and in all. (Whether we really believe those last two words is a whole blog entry itself – perhaps a book. But it’s not my immediate focus here.)

Absolutely there are some things which are to be done or viewed in a narrow way, because Jesus is a narrow Gate and a narrow Road.

Yet there must be others which must be observed broadly, with liberty, with acceptance of others’ views and preferences – because these items simply aren’t directly dealt with in scripture, nor is there any precedent in the words or behavior or perhaps even the spirit shown by those whom scripture describes.

Is there only one right way to view scripture itself? (And my question is heavily prompted by a series of brilliant posts recently explored by Believing Thomas.)

Is scripture law? It contains law. Is it story? It contains story. And poetry, song, history, prophecy, romance, and pretty much every general form of literature.

How could it be realistic to view it as only one of those?

The problem, of course, is in interpretation; sorting it all out. That becomes so much harder when we have a predisposition that any given scripture can only be one of those forms of communication.

And so limiting of God’s creativity.

I challenge you to read Acts 15. Several times. Read it as history. Read it as story. Read it as legislative process. Read it as love literature. Read it as a textbook case of mediation.

See if you can come away with a conviction that it can only be one of those things.

What struck me on a recent multiple read-through is that the leaders of the church were clearly winging it. I suspect that they had prayed, many of them fervently, for a Spirit-revealed resolution to the question of the Gentiles that had been thrust upon them … and the Spirit’s response was: “You need to work this out.”

So their response is “It seemed good to the Spirit and to us ….”

Are there dilemmas in Christianity right now that could be treated in a similar way, with the blessing of exactly the same Spirit?

Jesus’ revelation to Peter that what he “bound on earth would be bound in heaven” was also generally applied to his closest followers a couple of chapters later (Matthew 18:18) and it is sandwiched right between His instruction on how to handle a conflict with a brother and the guarantee that what two or three agree on in prayer will be granted by the Father, and that Jesus himself is among them when they gather in His name.

Can we simply lift verse 18 out of a context that Christians have long felt applied to them throughout time – and say that verse 18 refers only to those closest to Christ right then and there?

Doesn’t it foreshadow the circumstances of Romans 14, in which some acts would be sin to those who commit them against their God-given conscience – while the same acts done by another would not?

Or am I taking things too literally, myself?

Scriptural Proof

If you wield scripture as a sword, you can use it to prove just about any belief you wish to prove.

For example ….

If you’re inclined to believe that women shouldn’t ever speak in church, quote I Corinthians and I Timothy. Throw in a little “where two or three are gathered” and extrapolate that Jesus means church, and you can keep women quiet whenever there are two or three Christians huddled. There doesn’t even have to be a man in the group; it’s an assembly, and the women should shut up, right?

You don’t have to deal with dozens of other scriptures where women are actively engaged (how many times does Paul describe a woman as “hard-working”) in the work of the church, are called “servants” or “deaconesses” and are even speaking in assemblies – though perhaps veiled while doing so – because your favorite citations take precedence.

And it’s only fair for your pet quotes to be enshrined if, contrarily, you’re inclined to believe that women must speak in the assemblies of the saints.

How can we insist that both of these seemingly polar-opposite opinions must be contradictory when we don’t have a whole picture of the first century or its church? When the scriptures issue forth from the same Spirit? When the truth is in them all?

Could it be that there are times when a woman should speak and times when she should not? And, conversely, that there are times when a man should speak and times when he should keep quiet? Is it not time to keep quiet when one is itching to speak divisive, closed-minded, hurtful, uninspired words?

Is the primary purpose of scripture to provide proof that we’re expected to do everything right, or proof that the Righteous One came because we could not do everything right?

Why is that we do archaeological digs into the etymology of Greek words when we deal with such questions, rather than seeking out the heart of God through His Christ through His Spirit? That Spirit isn’t going to say anything that contradicts His own Word.

Could it be that we get no answer to our questions because we fail to ask?

When I ponder the questions posed by the example above, I admit that I just get more questions – some of which I shared at Clarke Comments earlier this evening, and which may show up there after there’s been time for moderation:

Did Lydia do nothing but “listen” when the brothers(!) gathered at her house, presumably to pray for the release of Paul and Silas from prison (Acts 16)? Was she forbidden to pray aloud in her own house while they waited?

How about Nympha and the church that met at her house (Colossians 4:15)? Priscilla at her house (and Aquila’s – I Corinthians 16)?

Did the four unmarried daughters of Philip the evangelist (and one of the Seven) have to remain silent and not prophesy when the church assembled (Acts 21:8-9)?

Is Paul’s reference to women keeping quiet “as the Law says” in I Corinthians because the predominantly Jewish Christian church in Corinth was back to meeting in a synagogue; or because they were still meeting at a former synagogue leader’s house which had become their synagogue (Acts 18)?

If God’s intent is for women to keep silence, why did Jesus make His resurrection known to his closest disciples through the witness of women? Should they have kept quiet, too?

If you wield scripture as a plowshare, you can use it to plant a seed of faith just about anywhere you care to sow.

Is that a joy and privilege that God has reserved only for male Christians?

What Is The Point?

Well, I’ve watched an episode of The Book of Daniel now. I probably shouldn’t judge, just from one episode – or maybe not at all, lest I be judged! – but the episode I saw committed the most heinous sin you can commit on television.

That sin wasn’t blasphemy, or giving the moral green light to homosexuality, or cramming as many instances of illicit sex into 45 minutes as possible. No, the sin of which I speak was far worse than that.

The show was mediocre.

Its humor was juvenile. Its issues were treadworn. Its responses to them were bland. And if Daniel’s speech at the groundbreaking for the new school at St. Barnabas’ caught the favor of everyone present (minus randy son Adam), then it’s been too long since they’ve heard a good preacher, or even a decent motivational speaker (like Chris Farley’s thrice-divorced Matt Foley).

I’d rather have heard the donut story, whatever it was.

I don’t watch much network TV, beyond the news. I never watch the WB affiliate, which picked up The Book of Daniel after the local NBC affiliate abandoned it, due to pressure from letter-writers. The experience of watching the show interspersed with locally-produced bottom-scraping, pond-scum commercials for heavy-metal radio shows and confessions-live TV shows and lingerie shops was interesting, but not interesting enough to repeat. So it’s back to HGTV for me.

The Book of Daniel‘s hallucinatory? illusory? expendable? “Jesus” character muttered vague and vapid comments with no particular moral content. No platitudes. No criticism. No particular help at all. He wasn’t the brooding prophet of Jesus Christ Superstar nor the joyous wandering minstrel of Godspell. He was just a dude with long brown hair and a beard, dressed in off-white robes. A poor man’s Qui-Gon Jinn without the light-sabre of the spirit. He’s just there. And the show’s conceit is that only Daniel, apparently, can see and hear him. When Daniel throws him a questioning look about why certain visitor is there, he shrugs in response. When Daniel’s sons are caught in their separate peccadilloes, he comments, “Kids, huh?”

Why have the greatest story-teller of all time there if he contributes nothing to the crisis-upon-crisis storyline?

Is that the series creators’ point? That Jesus is irrelevant? If not …

What is the point?

‘We’ Really Proved ‘Our’ Point!

‘We,’ being the assuredly virtuous Christians of Little Rock, Arkansas, that is. ‘We’ got ‘our’ way! ‘We’ didn’t want any possibly-blasphemous trash to appear on ‘our’ network-affiliated television stations, so ‘we’ mounted a massive letter-writing campaign and got the maybe-vile television series The Book of Daniel removed from one! ‘We’ didn’t like the looks of the promo TV spots, so ‘we’ were convinced that this almost-certainly God-bashing series had to be stopped! ‘We’ were so righteous and powerful that ‘we’ were one of only two cities in the United States whose campaigns succeeded (the other one being the hometown of my late dad, Terre Haute, Indiana).

‘We’ were absolutely certain that the horror described by the prophetic Ray Bradbury in his classic tome Fahrenheit 451 had indeed come to pass in the form of this satanic series; that Jesus had indeed become simply a character in the simpering soap-opera ‘family’ of interactive television:

“Christ is one of the ‘family’ now. I often wonder if God recognizes His own son the way we’ve dressed him up, or is it dressed him down? He’s a regular peppermint stick now, all sugar-crystal and saccharine when he isn’t making veiled references to certain commercial products that every worshiper absolutely needs.”

‘We’ had no intention of seeing if the assertions made by the holy American Family Association were true by seeing even just the pilot episode for ourselves; no! ‘We’ might have been seduced by the evil of it; tainted and corrupted and forever damned! The mere possibility of such an abomination had to be nipped in the bud if not hewn down at the roots, so ‘we’ concentrated our letters locally and ‘we’ got our way!

Never mind that the local WB station picked up the series as soon as the local network affiliate dropped it like hot rocks! ‘We’ won a great moral victory! ‘We’ stood in the gap! ‘We’ sought the old paths, and cemented ‘our’ feet to them! ‘We’ stood ‘our’ ground against the moral depravity and empty self-censorship of Hollywood!

‘We’ had to!

‘We’ were absolutely led by God to!

Because there is a gay character in the series, and he is related to a man of the cloth!

Though, admittedly, it never occurred to ‘us’ to mount such a campaign against the truly vile filth that infests the airwaves with jiggling orbs of flesh; gross expressions of profanity, vulgarity and obscenity; tasteless and derogatory humor; glorification of greed and selfishness; no! Those are the items that Hollywood should have the good sense to remove from its own productions – and besides, if they did, there would be nothing left for ‘us’ to watch and shake our heads and say “Tch, tch, tch … what a shame.”!

‘We’ have done our part.

‘We’ have exercised our God-given right as Americans to protest and threaten and boycott and push and shove and economically influence and censor to His glory! ‘We’ have trounced Hollywood! ‘We’ have beaten Satan at his own wicked game!

‘We’ have removed the possibility of discussing this series over the water cooler with our working associates. ‘We’ have slammed shut the door to anyone who might have been willing to discuss the Son of God on Hollywood’s terms in some sort of jaded, invented, so-called ‘real-world’ situation that could never possibly happen (like a priest having a gay son)! ‘We’ have negated the opportunity to say to non-Christian viewers of this series, “Yeah, I watched it … and, frankly, I don’t think Jesus would have said that or acted that way, and here’s why ….”

Aren’t ‘we’ clever?