Author: janie

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Don’t Make Your Husband Be Your Best Friend

They were such a cute couple.  He was a youth leader at church, and she was his high school sweetheart.  They tied the knot with style: with singing attendants, recorded expressions of love to each other, loads of family participation, and really nice dresses.  About a year after the wedding, I stopped by with a few friends to visit their little apartment (how we all wanted our own little apartments with that special somebody!).  They were happy as clams.  “Marriage is supposed to be this big adjustment,” she told us.  “But really, we were best friends for so long before we got married, there wasn’t that much to adjust to.”

Best friends . . . that might have been the first time I heard that description of husband and wife.  It made an impression.  Marrying your best friend seemed like a foolproof formula.

It wasn’t too long after that—two years, at the most—when I heard they divorced.  The story was that she’d cheated on him with one of their “best friends” from high school.

Huh.

This little story is probably apropos of nothing, except that “marrying your best friend” is not a foolproof formula.  When it comes to marriage, nothing is foolproof, but here (in bullet points) is why I think we’ve oversold the spousal-best-friend concept:

  • In general, men and women do friendship differently.  Guys are comrades, teammates, colleagues.  They bond over projects or goals.  They are capable of heart-to-heart talks, but only after establishing certain parameters.  The ladies, being more relational, always have their feelers out for attachment and the boundaries are much more permeable.  In a dorm room or a coffee shop or a late-night wine-and-chocolate fest with the gals, we tend to spill our guts.
  • Related to that, men and women have different expectations of friendship.  With guys, it’s working together to get something done or solve a problem.  With women it’s talking through the thing that needs doing or working through their feelings over the problem.  Yes, I know that’s a bit of a stereotype, but stereotypes have to come from somewhere–usually from the facts.
  • From eHarmony radio ads. I gather that everybody’s looking for a soulmate.  Whatever that is.  Soulmates are usually made, not found; made over a long period of time, with lots of patience and shared experience.  If you’re expecting, on the basis of a few deep conversations with your fiancée, that your souls will mate right along with your bodies, you’re probably in for a shock.
  • Marriages are under enough strain without the burden of best-friend expectations.  You’ve promised to love someone for as long as you both shall live, to stay together through all the circumstances of life (good and bad), to go one way even when you both want to go separate ways.  Those are crazy promises and they require crazy commitment.  Sometimes you are not going to be friends.  That person who is thwarting your will, that person you are stuck to for life can sometimes look a lot like an enemy.  Those dilemmas can usually be worked through—unless you convince yourself that since your spouse is no longer your best friend, the whole relationship is built on false premises and is therefore over.
  • Marriage and friendship are different relationships with different structures and purposes.  Friendship is side by side; marriage is face to face.  Friendship is cumulative; marriage is transformative.  One of the most striking insights I ever read about marriage was in a novel written by someone who wasn’t married at the time: “Those who are enjoying something, or suffering something together, are companions.  Those who enjoy or suffer one another, are not.”*  Marriage is enjoying or suffering one another, not necessarily in equal balance.  And speaking of equal, the equality that’s a necessary element of friendship is the last thing a husband or wife should be concerned about.

Of course, friendship is a great thing for a marriage to be; it just won’t always be that, or only be that.  When the marriage is under stress for internal or external reasons, loyal friends outside the marriage (not of the opposite sex) can an indispensable means of relieving some of the pressure.  It’s hard to find such friends.  I’ve written elsewhere how churches that focus so intently on building strong marriages tend to neglect building strong friendships.  But we need a theology of friendship (do I feel a book coming on?) to help build those strong marriages as well as to serve members who aren’t married.  Good friendships may even be rarer than good marriages.  But that’s a subject for another post.

Puppies! Because . . . puppies.

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*C. S. Lewis, That Hideous Strength, Chapter 7 (“The Pendragon,” section 2)

 

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Happy New Year–Again??

Create in me O God a pure heart

And grant a right spirit within me.

Cast me not away from your presence

And turn not your holy spirit from me

                                                Psalm 51:10-11

The Hebrew word for “create”—Ba ra’—is reserved for God as something only he can do.  It is not mere making, or rearranging elements that already exist, but bringing about something entirely new and wonderful.  This is what he did “in the beginning.”

Now I am reveling new things to you, things hidden and unknown

created just now, this very moment,

of which you have heard nothing until now

so you cannot say, “Oh yes, I knew all this.”

Isaiah 48:7 (New Jerusalem Bible)

In today’s political speech, when one side makes a bold proposal or pointed accusation, the other side often dismisses it with the charge of “nothing new,” as if novelty alone drove truth or relevance.  It’s a meaningless rebuttal, especially if the original point was never addressed when it was new.  But the terminology reveals something about all of us; we’re always growing weary even while looking for renewal.  We’ve been too many times around this track.  Sin promises the new and exciting but (eventually, at least) leaves us exhausted and miserable.  Sin makes us old.

In our marriages, our compromises, our expectations and disappointments—disillusion starts with sameness.  When will this tired cycle stop?  When will we make some real progress?  The problems are so obvious—why can’t we fix them? How many times must we go around this same old track?

In the presence of all your people I shall work such wonders as have never been worked in my land or in any nation. All the people around you will see what the LORD can do, for what I shall do through you shall be awe-inspiring.

                                                Exodus 34:10

The Old Testament tells of great revivals, massive turning points in history, when a sense of purpose and power swept through the people like a burning wind, setting off spectacular miracles like fireworks (see the Exodus, the conquest of Canaan, the beginnings of the monarchy and the prophetic era).  The fires quickly dimmed and the winds slacked off, because that’s how we are.  We get old.  Sin makes us old.  Revivals and mini-revivals fail to stick (see the book of Judges).  By the time Malachi appears, the people are set in their ways, petty and argumentative, meeting the LORD’s passionate accusations with a shrug: “Nothing new here.”

I shall give you a new heart, and put a new spirit in you; I shall remove the heart of stone from your bodies and give you a heart of flesh instead . . .

                                                Ezekiel 36:25

Our hearts feel old and tired, even now.  If you’ve seen too many revivals and Next Big Things and This Changes Everythings—where after a few years Everything slides back to where it was before—it’s easy to become disillusioned.  But we must not.

In South Korea an obscure pastor is rescuing unwanted babies through the medium of a box.  In central Texas a former abortion nurse is pulling souls out of that miserable industry.  In the Middle East young men see visions and old men dream dreams.  In Africa, souls undergoing persecution find their faith renewed, contrary to all human reason.  In the well-worn tracks of human failure, bright footprints.

Behold, I am making all things new.   Rev. 21:5

Happy New Year—for real!

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Hallelujah!

My first Messiah performance was a university production augmented by community members.  I was one of the latter–a college dropout who didn’t know much about music but knew what I liked.  The director (I’ll call him Dr. Gunther) was passionate and volatile, the type who usually spells trouble for music departments.  By mid-term, he had already alienated half the faculty.  He dropped enough hints to indicate the nature of his faith: an artist’s Catholicism, invaluable as a source of inspiration but no use at all in curbing a rampant ego.

Gunther loved this music passionately, and over weeks of rehearsal had exhorted and molded the choir into a mean Messiah machine–or at least we thought so.  “I don’t care what your religion is, or even if you believe anything,” he told us after warm-up on performance night.  “But tonight–just for tonight–sing like you believe this.”

I already believed this, but was beginning to question why.  Why do some have faith and some don’t?  Was it entirely a choice, a Nietzschean “will to believe,” or did the Holy Spirit just muscle His way in to claim this lumpen territory for Christ?  The performance didn’t answer that question, but showed me what (or Who) mattered more.

The first chorus is a ringing proclamation: “And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed.”  Each part takes turns asserting, “the mouth of the Lord has spoken it!”  If God makes a promise, we can take it to the bank.  Gross darkness covers the people, the bass informs us (to the accompaniment of low strings swirling like fog).  “But the Lord shall arise upon them.”  As his voice climbs the scale and the minor tone brightens, we hear the dawn.

The fulfillment of God’s promise is announced first to lowly shepherds.  The air fills with the rustling of wings as though the angels are too excited to hold still.  “Glory to God in the highest!” bursts out of the heavenly band, with “Good will!” tossed about in joyful benediction.  It’s too soon over (but listen as the last angel leaves the sky, in a quiver of violins).  Next, the babe has grown up and is walking among us, leading his flock in pastoral calm.  “Come unto him, all ye that labor . . .”

But Part II opens with “Behold the Lamb of God,” covered in blood.  The music itself, with its staggering intervals, lashing chords and jarring dissonances, lays on the stripes.  But why this sudden dance tune, incongruously lively?  “All we like sheep have gone astray”–can’t you hear it?  Giddy, foolish sheep, turning every one to his own way, dashing madly toward the devil’s pit, skidding faster and faster–until the basses drag the bleeding Messiah forward again: “And the Lord hath laid on him–” (“on Him! on Him!” every voice echoes in stunned amazement) “the iniquity of us all.”

Part III: The resurrection does not receive a grand choral anthem; instead the tenor assures us, almost matter-of-factly, that God “did not suffer [His] holy one to see corruption.”  Well, of course not!  The King of glory enters heaven to a tune both regal and merry, exhorting the very gates to “lift up your heads.”  What’s more, His people are destined to follow him there.  “The trumpet shall sound” (and so it does, in a stirring duet with the bass soloist) and we shall be changed into creatures worthy enough to shout, “Worthy is the lamb.”

The pounding chorus of “Blessing and honor” deals a joyful death-blow to the notion that heaven consists of sitting on clouds and strumming harps–to spend eternity singing such praises to such a Savior will be glory indeed!  The incredible “Amen” layers the voices of a multitude, of every tribe and nation, each in his own pitch and tone, woven into perfect harmony by Christ Himself.

At the end of that performance the choir was pumped, all excitedly congratulating each other and our sweating director.  (At the same time the orchestra was muttering that Dr. Gunther didn’t know how to direct, and the alto soloist resented some of the looks he had given her.)  I just sat there on the risers for a while, an emotional wreck.  No wonder; I’d been given a surround-sound refresher course in the gospel, plus a glimpse of heaven.

The coming of faith is when God inhabits time–the music, the images, the controversies and the daily grind–and makes it glow.  He was there, and my belief was neither act of will nor involuntary takeover.  It was Him, and it will always be Him, forever and ever.

Amen.

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The End that’s Not the End

As they were talking about these things, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, “Peace to you!”  But they were startled and frightened and thought they saw a spirit.  Luke 23:36-37

Those two guys on the way to Emmaus—we never found out why they were going there.  But we know they didn’t stay.  “And they arose that same hour and returned to Jerusalem.”  They left Jerusalem in gloom; they return to a buzz of excitement:  “The Lord has risen indeed, and he’s appeared to Simon!”  Everybody’s talking: explaining, expositing, theorizing, speculating, repeating themselves over and over like TV pundits after big breaking news: Unbelievable!

Then Jesus shows up, and it really is.

Luke is sometimes unintentionally humorous—or it just may be that he writes this piece of the story with a smile.  Here they are, babbling on about the Lord’s appearances, and when he actually appears, they think he’s a ghost!  Or a “spirit”—something profoundly uncanny.  What were they expecting?

He probably looks different—perhaps something a little beyond human—but whatever the appearance, there’s enough of Jesus to recognize, yet something more to fear.  Not a tame lion, as we’ve heard tell of another character in Christian lore.  This is not the man they knew, who tramped the hills with them and broke bread with them and talked with them for hours on end.  It’s not (quite) the man who suffered and sighed and bled and died.

And yet it is that man—times infinity.

They couldn’t believe because they had never seen anything like this before.  No one had.  This was entirely new.

And yet . . . in a way it wasn’t.  That seed, planted in the virgin about 33 years ago, that microscopic marriage with a human egg—this unimaginable union of God and man they see before them–started back then.  But no—

Those interminable genealogies, those tedious “begats,” casting the bloodline back through the centuries: from Joseph to Heli to Matthal to Levi to Melchi and so on, all the way back to Adam.  It must have started then.  But no—

Remember when Got bent down and breathed life into a mound of clay, “and man became a living being.”  Surely it started then.  But . . .

Even farther back, Spirit broods over potential; a word trembles on the brink.  The Word.  Time and place have yet to be; all is joy and bliss and glory, filling the infinite.  The Glory has something in mind, and even though there’s no word for it now we’ll call it all things: each particular, various, after-its-own kind animal, vegetable, and mineral.  In His mind, they are made of particles so tiny that learned men in the far future, with all their subtle instruments, will not be able to track them.  But somewhere in the mind of the Maker, he draws a line at the frontier where the universe will begin.

With a “Let there be,” the future Son of Man crosses that line and brings forth all things.

touch-and-see

“Touch my hands and feet; it is myself.  Touch me and see.  For a spirit—as you understand spirit—does not have flesh and bones as you see I have.”

And flesh and bones—as we’ve always experienced it—doesn’t live forever.  But this flesh and bones will.

We have to go back in order to go forward  So he takes them back, maybe as far back as “man became a living being.”  Then forward through the Law and Psalms and Prophets, and they begin to see that in him, all things hold together.*

Soon, Spirit will cross another line.  Luke ends his story with a ragtag group of followers returning to Jerusalem, to be “clothed with power from on high.”  With wind and fire the Spirit will rush upon them, as upon Samson and Saul in the old days, not to work God’s will through them but to be God’s will in them.  But that’s getting ahead of the story—which, we see now, doesn’t really end.

The Father speaks, and light appears;

light

the Son enters a human egg and incarnation happens;

fetus

the Holy Spirit pierces a wall of flesh, and indwelling begins.

spirit-descends

He loves a good story, they say. By crossing that line at the birth of time, he began the greatest one of all.  And it goes on . . .

*Col. 1:17

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For the original post in this series, go here.

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Emmaus

That very day, two of them were going to a village named Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and they were talking with each other about all these things that had happened.  Luke 24:13-14

 

What a walk that was, Cleopas—emmaus

A long way to haul a heavy heart

With bread for the journey and the bitter herbs

of recollection.  And it showed,

for that was his first remark: Why so sad?

Well, there’s some relief in telling what you know—

enlightening the ignorant, right?—and so

remember our surprise when he enlightened

us.

 

Such teaching!  Such pulsing, winged words

that beat upon our hearts and made them burn;

that joined the rough parts in smooth-sanded turn.

Miles unrolled like a scroll beneath our feet, until

our destination leapt out of the twilight.  Yet

we could not give him up.  Remember?

How he became our host; took bread and

broke:

 

And we saw it all–

 

Prophets, priests, kings; the law, the Lord;

the blood of all sacrifice, ceaselessly poured

into one body.              Taken, broken;

the satisfied sentence, once for all spoken.

We looked and we saw—then, swift as a dart

he vanished from sight and entered our hearts.

What a walk, Cleopas, and at its end,

with bread for the journey, we’d yet to begin.

 

For the original post in this series, go here.

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But . . .

But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they went to the tomb, taking the spices they had prepared.  Luke 24:1

Women on the way with spices, angels on the way with news.  They meet at an empty tomb.  Both are empty-tombamazed, for different reasons.

The angels: they’ve longed to look into these things,* and now they’ve seen them.  The plan has unfolded, from the old Adam’s first appearance on earth to the new Adam’s last, with a wooden cross piercing the center.  Now they understand, and it seems to perfect to them, so reasonable and right and symmetrical and beautiful they don’t get why anyone can’t see it.  Even the humans who are facedown on the ground before them. These heavenly beings have taken the form of men, but their presence is so thundering-bright the humans can do nothing else but react as though they were gods.  Even Caesar, if angels had been sent to him, would have done the same.  They’re not human, these beings, but do you sense a human-like impatience about them?

Why do you seek the living among the dead?

The women: up with the dawn, busy about the house, on the road as soon as it was lawful to travel.  It’s a man’s world, but women rule the gateways: always the officiates at birth and death.  They are here for the last office.  On Friday they screamed, all Sabbath they wept, now they are empty as though scrubbed with sand and set out in the sun to dry, their one concern being to persuade the guards to let someone roll the stone away so they can get to the body and properly prepare it for its final rest.

As it turns out, the guards are nowhere to be seen and the stone has already been rolled away.  We can totally understand their shock, even if the angels don’t.

Why do you seek the living among the dead?

The “men” are too bright to look at; with faces to the ground the women hear: Don’t you remember what he told you?

Do we remember?

We are told lots of things, every day.  Every day, we hear from people who can’t help telling us their version of the story: why we’re here, what we are, what it all means.  Day by day we hear.  In church it’s one thing, in school it’s another—in the office, at home, in the news, at the movies, at the airport, in the hospital, at the cemetery, back in church—so many things.  We hear constantly, but rarely listen.  We see, but rarely look.

Why seek the living among dead kingdoms, stone idols, iron gardens, petrified religions?  The old stories end here, and new stories aren’t really new—why do we keep peering into tombs?  Why don’t we just remember what he told us?

Trembling, in great excitement, the women hurry back to the disciples—the remaining eleven—who haven’t begun to drift apart yet, even though they have no reason to stay together.  The news spills out on eager voices: Mary and Mary and Joanna and Salome all trying to speak at once so it comes out in pieces, back end first.  Two men—Angels!  The guards—gone!  Rolled away– the stone!  Empty–the tomb!  And they said—and they told us—and don’t you remember what he said?

It’s true!  All true!

Hysterical talk, they think.  Excitable women.

Even given a dismissive attitude toward females, you’d think these men’s memories would be stirred a little.  But there’s a wind blowing—feel it?  Mere men never know where it comes from or where it goes** and the Spirit is waiting in the wings (so to speak) to make His appearance.  The impetuous Peter is curious enough to run to the garden where he finds the grave just as the women described it.  Curious!  But he still doesn’t know what to make of it.

Do we?

*I Peter 1:12

**John 3:8

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For the original post in this series, go here.

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He Made His Grave among the Rich

Now there was a man named Joseph, of the Jewish town of Arimathea . . . (Luke 23:50)

While the screaming was going on, he couldn’t make his voice heard.

Maybe he didn’t speak loud enough. Maybe he barely spoke at all.  In the heat of the trial—or what the officials were pleased to call that travesty of justice—there were a few dissenting voices, such as that himself and Nicodemus and perhaps one or two others.  They may have tried to turn the tide quietly, speaking to one man and then another, but the odds were clearly against them.  The hour carried the day, and swept a righteous man to his death.

Now it is quiet.  Events have passed by the governor’s palace, which is now returned to a place of routine business.  Joseph, as a man of wealth and influence, has Pilate’s ear, and now that it is quiet his reasonable voice can be heard: Give me the body.

A reasonable voice; an odd request.  But then, this whole business is odd.  Pilate handed the man over for execution just that morning—is he already dead?  The normal procedure would be to throw the remains in a pit near Gehenna with the other two, once death had wrapped its slow crushing grip around all of them.  Then the whole distasteful business would be over and done with.  But if Joseph wants to offer the hospitality of his own brand-new tomb, let him.  Pilate’s permission, once he’s determined the man is dead, is quick and curt.  An odd request, but it seems right.  A fitting end, perhaps.  Though the governor formally absolved himself for the death of an innocent man, it still troubles him.  And though he now goes about his business with a studied show of normality, it always will.

And they made his grave with the wicked

and with a rich man in his death,

although he had done no violence,

and there was no deceit in his mouth.  (Isaiah 53:9)

When Joseph first thought of offering his tomb, did he recall the prophecy?  Probably not; there was so much to do and so little time before sundown.  Supplies must be gathered, servants called to wash the body, strong men recruited to take it off the cross.  (How did they do that?  Prying the nails out would crush the hands and feet.  Perhaps they could just pull the body free, but not without more tearing of tissues—or perhaps, after hanging so long, the holes could have stretched out enough that hands and feet could simply be lifted off the nails once the cross was horizontal.)

joseph-of-a

With all these dreadful practicalities, it’s doubtful anyone was aware of fulfilling any prophesies, even though that particular prophesy is a very strange one: numbered among the transgressors, buried among the rich.  Priests and scribes had probably debated the meaning of that passage through the centuries—set out parameters, debated the particular, and divided into schools of thought.  But when the day finally comes, everyone is too rushed to think or too distracted to connect or too numb with grief to do more than set one foot in front of the other, like the women following the servants of Joseph’s household as they carry the body to the tomb.  Mary of Magdala, Joanna, and Salome assume it will be their last journey with him.  They watch, the observe, they return to the city to purchase spices before the sun goes down. Exhaustion falls on them like the close of day, and they enter a forced and fitful Sabbath rest.

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Among the Scoffers

And Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they know now what they do.” . . . And the people stood by, watching, but the rulers scoffed at him, saying, “He saved others; let him save himself, if he is the Christ of God, his Chosen One!”  Luke 23:34-35

Rulers: If you are the Chosen One . . .

Save yourself!

Soldiers: If you are the King of the Jews

Save yourself!

Criminals: If you are Messiah

Save yourself! and us!

Messiahs breath catches, snags on the nails, streams out in shreds.  No . . .

Not me and you

not both and all

no and–but or.

It’s one or the other.

Save myself or you?

I choose you.  I choose . . .

from the other side, a whisper choked and raw,

barely raised above the mutters and jeers:

“Lord? . . . that kingdom you talked about?

When it’s finally yours–remember me?”

Bloody fingers slowly uncurl and stretch; the right hand of one to the left of the other.

When it is mine, it will also be yours.

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Can We Talk? Religious Liberty, part three

Janie and Charlotte, college friends who grew up to occupy opposite sides of the political spectrum, continue their quest to make public discourse less ugly and stupid:

In our last exciting installment, we went back and forth on some of the specific cases that brought this issue to everyone’s mind.  Charlotte ended with a question that gets to the heart of the issue–

charlotteCharlotte

OK Janie, now I have a question for you: Why is it that some Evangelical Christians insist that homosexuality is only behavior and not part of the innate essence of some human beings? Why can’t they allow room for other people to be who they are and do what they do and live their lives in peace?

Janie

That’s two questions, and though they’re related, the first is theological and the second political/social.  The first takes us deeper into the reasons conservative Christians have for rejecting same-sex marriage (for example) while the second brings us back to the original issue of religious freedom.  The first requires we have certain inward convictions but the second requires only a modicum of good will and mutual respect.

So, in regard to your first question, I’m not aware that some Evangelical Christians insist that homosexuality is “only behavior”—though I guess “some” people will believe anything! I can only speak with authority about me, and my own thought is that of course homosexual behavior stems from the innate essence of certain humans beings, since people generally act out of what we might call their essences.  Out of the heart the mouth speaks, Jesus said, and the person acts.

But that’s exactly the problem.  My own “innate essence,” if unredeemed by the blood of Christ, is sin.  You may think I say this because I’m a Calvinist (total depravity, and all that), but I knew it long before I could put a label on it.  “There is none righteous; no not one,” and that includes me.  I’m not a homosexual, but I’m a casual liar and a subtle manipulator, and I have to keep a chain on these and other manifestations of me as I fight against them.

I understand that many readers will be shocked at the idea of homosexual practice in the same category as lying and manipulating (and a host of other sins).  Well, I wouldn’t if I had a choice, but I believe God puts them there, and so must I.  That doesn’t mean that LGBT people can’t be redeemed; of course they can.  But I do believe they need to accept that their sexual desires are part of the sin nature Christ longs to redeem, rather than a special gift that should be celebrated, any more than idolatry, adultery, stealing, greed, intemperance, blasphemy and cheating should be celebrated.  “And such were some of you” (1 Corinthians 6:11).  Such, in fact, were all of us, but we may be “washed, sanctified, and justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God.”

I come to these conclusions not because I hate gays or don’t know anyone who’s gay, or despise anyone who’s different, but because the Bible is not squishy about this.  I’ve read rationalizations to the contrary, and they strike me as just that: rationalization and wishful thinking.  I know Christians who struggle against same-sex attraction, and for them the fight is worth the prize.  “To live is Christ, and to die is gain.”

As for Christians who are also practicing gays and lesbians, they will answer to God, not me.  I can only tell them the truth to the best of my ability and knowledge.

Beyond that (touching on your second question), of course they should be allowed to live their lives in peace.  Shouldn’t I be allowed the same courtesy?  What about Baronelle Stutzman?  Ruth Neely?  Dr. Eric Walsh?

I could go on…

Charlotte

So let me get this straight: you do accept that homosexuality can be part of the innate essence/ being of some people but you believe when these people behave according to that nature (especially sexually) and “practice” homosexuality, then they are living in their “sin nature.”

Is that fair?

We agree that you and I are not trying to change each other’s minds in this conversation; rather we are trying to understand each other. So I’ll just respond with a part of my own journey from biblical fundamentalism into progressive Christianity. And no – this is not “justification and wishful thinking;” this is sound theology held by countless Christians.

I would say that indeed the Bible is “squishy” about homosexuality. The few texts people regularly quote can be interpreted in a variety of ways, especially given the completely different cultural context of ancient Israel and the Roman Empire. Applying expectations from the First Century to the very different context of the Twenty-first Century is not neat or simple. You don’t accept the Bible’s assumptions on women’s submission and slaves’ subservience, I will guess.

As Christians, for us the life of the Christ is the key to explain, amplify, demonstrate, interpret any of the other biblical texts. For me, Jesus’ example of welcoming and including those who were judged by the religious people of their own day gives me all the motivation I need to welcome wholeheartedly. Jesus’ example of chastising the religious leaders who drew bright lines and excluded some people from the fullness of God’s grace gives me pause as a religious leader myself. As I have said before, if God is my judge then I would rather be judged for including than judged for excluding.

When I stand with couples as their minister for their wedding vows, I always cite the love passage from First Corinthians 13: Love is patient, kind. It is not arrogant, rude, irritable or resentful. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.

Whenever any couple makes their commitment to live in this kind of love, then I boldly say God-Who-is-Love is honored. Whenever any couple keeps their vows “for better or for worse, in sickness and in health until death do us part…” then I say God-Who-is-Faithful is honored.

Janieprofile2

My position is also “sound theology held by countless Christians,” not mindless bigotry as is sometimes portrayed (not by you!).  It’s not based on a few texts, but on the entire sweep of biblical history and what we can discern about God’s purpose and design from within scripture and outside of it.  Such as

  • The biological fact that the sexes were literally made for each other; confirmed by scripture (“This is bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh . . .”);
  • The creation mandate to “be fruitful and multiply,” which could have an additional spiritual meaning but in the context clearly means making babies;
  • The lack of any favorable or remotely positive mention of homosexuality in scripture;
  • Jesus’ own definition of marriage as between a man and a woman;
  • God’s clear and strict limits on sexual behavior, which most heteros have a problem with.

Charlotte

My progressive Christian friends and my liberal secular friends see a lot of “mindless bigotry” on the Right. Unfortunately that is the public face of Christianity for a lot of non-Christians these days. One of the reasons I’m glad you and I are having this conversation (out of the several reasons I am glad) is that I would like more non-religious people to hear the rationale of a kind-hearted, thoughtful Christian like you. Most of them won’t agree with your theological argument (I don’t even agree with it) but your thought process and conclusions are anything but “mindless.” Your humility and compassion shine through.

Progressive Christian theology also considers “the entire sweep of biblical history and what we can discern about God’s purpose and design…” So look how we begin with similar intent and end up in such different places! I keep saying First Amendment = Messy. This reminds me that our sincere differences also demonstrate that biblical interpretation is messy.

Janie

I agree that Christ is the key to interpreting all other biblical texts, so we need to pay close attention to what he said and did.  He invited all sinners to come to him, but drew one bright line, and that was himself: “No one comes to the Father but by me.”  He upheld the Law—“I have not come to abolish it but to fulfill it”—lived a life of perfect obedience and died with all my sins on his head.  That’s how seriously God takes sin: someone has to pay for it.  One sinless man paid so that I don’t have to.  I still sin, but am obliged to struggle against my “innate essence,” my natural bent toward selfishness and dishonesty.  As a new creature in Christ I can’t cling to my old ways, and can’t encourage others to remain in what I see as sin.

The God-who-is-love demands that we love him first and best—not because he’s a self-centered tyrant but because he’s the source of everything good, and by loving him we find our best and truest selves.  If I were talking to an unbeliever who is gay, sexuality wouldn’t even be part of the conversation at first, because it’s not the real problem.  The real problem, as it is with all of us, is loving something more than God, and putting our own thoughts, desires, and ambitions in place of God, as it has been since the Fall.

A brief point about being judged: if, you say, God is your judge then you would rather be judged for including than for excluding.  Okay, but it seems to me this is not a matter of if but when.  God will judge everyone, including me and you.  If we are “in Christ,” i.e., standing under Christ’s imputed righteousness, we will be judged righteous for his sake, not for anything we did or didn’t do.

Charlotte

So we will agree to disagree on the theological and biblical arguments here. And I will say (as you suggested in our last conversation): “Okay Janie, times are changing—hope you catch up someday!”  🙂

Janie

To which I would say, if I had the presence of mind for a quick comeback, “Yeah, well, in my book, eternity trumps time.”  🙂

Charlotte

Back to our conversation about religious freedom. The examples you offer remind us how very complex it is to apply Constitutional freedoms fairly. (First Amendment = Messy.) I respect each of the people who have found themselves mired in this current confusion as we figure out how to respect their rights at the same time we respect the rights of those who disagree. I am sorry for this challenging time. I believe we will get through this and be stronger and wiser and more compassionate on the other side.

Janie

It’s a real issue, and will only be solved by accepting each other in good faith. Regarding same-sex marriage, to put it bluntly: you won.  But some factions seem unwilling to rest until everybody agrees, or keeps their disagreement entirely under wraps.  When schools and colleges are threatened if they continue to teach their dissenting views (as recently happened in California), we are approaching something like thought control. Will you at least concede that Ted Cruz has a point, even if you don’t agree with his prescriptions?  Do you understand why I’m worried about this?

Charlotte

No, I don’t concede that Ted Cruz has a point. I still argue that he (and you) are focused on one side of the issue while the Courts are trying to balance all sides in as fair a way as possible in all this messiness. One of our commenters on one of our recent conversations noted that single individuals choosing to discriminate because of a religious belief is one thing while entire communities of people refusing services to another entire population of people is something else entirely. She said: “The fact is, the past is riddled with the consequences of communities having the right to do just this…” That’s why our Court system is so important – balancing the rights of some against the rights of others.

Throughout American history, our Courts have bent over backwards to try to accommodate the sincere religious perspective in the application of our civil laws: Jehovah’s Witness Americans refusing oaths or the pledge of allegiance; pro-life Americans opting out of abortion procedures; Muslim Americans and the length of their beards or the wearing of their hijabs; Native American understandings of the sacred (definitely a mixed bag of rulings here). Anyway, I could go on… Conscientiously objecting and opting out is a religious liberty that has been protected again and again by our Courts. However, the practice of discriminating against other people has been struck down repeatedly by those same Courts.

I wrote an open “Letter to My Christian Friends who are Anxious about Your Religious Liberty” some time ago. It’s my best argument for trying to see and respect all sides of this important issue. And yes – it would be nice if regular people could solve more of these problems face to face by giving each other space and “accepting each other in good faith.”

Janie

It’s not just “nice,” it’s vital for living together in a democracy when cultural seams begin to stretch apart.  The court system is overburdened as it is, not to mention prohibitively expensive and time-consuming; “taking it to the judge” is not an option for many people.  If you and your partner can get the flowers or the cake from another vendor, why not just do that?

To conclude, here’s a paragraph from Justice Kennedy’s Obergefell opinion.  I took issue with some of his other statements in that opinion, but appreciate that he added this:

Finally, it must be emphasized that religions, and those who adhere to religious doctrines, may continue to advocate with utmost, sincere conviction that, by divine precepts, same-sex marriage should not be condoned. The First Amendment ensures that religious organizations and persons are given proper protection as they seek to teach the principles that are so fulfilling and so central to their lives and faiths, and to their own deep aspirations to continue the family structure they have long revered.

Charlotte

Good quote. Justice Kennedy notes an important American reality here. Too many of my non-religious friends on the Left completely misunderstand this in their flippant application of “separation of church and state.” If the First Amendment means anything, it means we all have equal access to the public conversation.

 

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Criminals All

Two others, who were criminals, were led away to be put to death with him.  Luke 23:32

“Up! It’s your time!”

Their names are unknown to us: One and Two.  Left and Right.  As we meet them, they’ve known for some time that the day was coming but they weren’t sure when—like all of us.

They’ve lived their lives in a haze, yelling from the very first hour: give me food!  Give me warmth!  Give me shelter, give me love!  Give me that shiny thing, and this tasty thing, and that thrilling thing, and this intoxicating thing that will make me lose consciousness for a while so I’ll forget how unsatisfied I am (like all of us).

Unwilling to make do with that they had, they became thieves; interlopers, snatching bright moments from the dull days, decking their lives with desperate finery.  They bargained with the time but time always wins; sooner came before later, and they were caught.

Like all of us.

“Up!  It’s your time!”

Pulled from a filthy cell, loaded down with heavy cross-pieces, they are herded like cattle to the Walk of the Damned.  Terror blinds them; only gradually do they perceive the splatters of blood on the path before them.  And then the crowds: Dear people, is all this acclaim for us?  No, couldn’t be: there’s another poor wretch ahead of them, who’s doing all the bleeding and attracting all the noise.  And what noise!  Wails of sorrow, mocking jeers, furious catcalls packed into a multi-legged clamor, punctuated by stings of a whip applied to make them move faster.

Is there no escape?  No way out?  They’re moving down a hollow tube with iron walls and no joints—no vulnerable places that can be exploited.  Life—once full of possibilities and angles and gaps, pleasure and pain, light and dark—now hardens, funneling them down to a single point they cannot see beyond.

As for all of us.thief

Down the road, through the gate, up a long, tortuous hill, the splintery crosspiece bearing down with every step. Still, they’d gladly keep walking forever—or even more gladly pull someone from the screeching throng to take their place  That scribe over there, his face so buckled you would have thought he was passing bricks, screaming his rage.  That smug-looking Pharisee or his grim-faced pal.  Any one of the contemptible Romans: illiterate peasants most of them, of no higher birth than a Jewish thief, who nonetheless lord over them every chance they got.  Even that wailing woman there, or the wide-eyed boy—pull one of those out of the mob, put this hunk of lumber on their back, and I’ll not protest.

Might feel guilty tomorrow of course, but there will always be another skin of wine and another willing woman to help me forget.

“Halt!”

Not today, though.

Rough hands throw the crosspiece on the ground, drag the two men aside and strip off their clothes.  A guard sizes up those pathetic garments with a calculating eye, deciding if he wants to gamble for them.  Though they know they’ll soon be beyond it, shame stabs each of the condemned as they stand exposed before the crowd.  They’ve been observers at scenes like this, and well know the kind of jokes and jibes passing among the ranks right now.

The crosses are being nailed together.  The two thieves, pathetically trying to cover their private parts with unbound hands, become aware of the third condemned man.  He too is naked except for a grotesque garnish—a circle of spiky thorns pressed down on his head.  The soldiers are calling him King of the Jews.  The thorns are supposed to be a crown—their idea of satirical wit.  The two thieves realize, at about the same time, who this is: Jesus of Nazareth.  They’ve heard of him—who hasn’t?  And what Jew, however impious, didn’t harbor some hope, however sketchy, that this was the one: Messiah.

The screaming mob now surrounding Skull Hill must have had the same hope—what else could explain their rage?  In the last moment before the hammer falls, when they are seized and stretched out, when extra hands are called to hold down their twitching bodies, they feel it too: absolute rage, consuming fury.  Like a child of wrath, foolish, disobedient, malicious, envious, full of hatred for themselves, for others, for God,

Like all of us—

Screams rip the bland blue sky.

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For the original post in this series, go here.

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