That magical place they call Rosedale...

The year is 1997.

I am four. Rosedale is a magical place. It is the only place I know. My family lives in the huge apartment complex across the plain from the men's dorm—a dorm to be seen from the outside but never entered by oneself—scary men live in there. From our skyscraper-height in the second story apartment, we can look down and see the road (it is at least a mile long) connecting our apartment building to the "four-ways." The road here goes four directions. The first way is to turn left and go to the men's dorm. The second is to carry on straight to the cafeteria. Third, one can turn right and embark on an additional mile-long trek to the chapel. The fourth option, of course, is to turn back to the apartments.

We play in the plain in front of our "house" (we don't realize it's an apartment at this point) a lot. The plain has an area of at least one square mile. We have to watch out, though, because sometimes adults throw big heavy round flat things through there that we know will kill us if they hit us. A kid has a foam football with a tail to make it spiral. We throw this thing around. One time a big college man comes and throws it so far and high we loose it in the sky. We embark on a great expedition to retrieve it, and when we finally find it, we vow never to let big college men touch our football again.

The big college guy does have the life, though, being able to throw things that far and stuff.

To the right of the huge apartment complex, across the road going to the cafeteria, is a huge frontier; much larger than the big plain in front of our house. There is a great big tree over there, which we sometimes play by, but we never go past the tree. It's too dangerous. Sometimes we see groups of big college men and women go out there with those big flat round things or balls. Sometimes they never come back.

Far, far away, across the huge frontier, is a line of distant trees. This is the end of the known world for us. We don't know—nor do we want to know—what is beyond those trees. Maybe heaven.

Those college men and women have the life, though, being brave enough to go out there and all.

Sometimes we make the trek down to the four-ways and then turn right and make an even longer trek to the library. On the way, we pass the women's dorm. The women's dorm! As if the men's dorm isn't bad enough—this dorm is untouchable! Literally. Nobody ever actually says so, but we are sure if we go in there, we will never come out. The women will kill us. And they will get away with it to. Our parents, though weeping over the loss of their children, will nonetheless nod their heads in assent that yes, we had indeed received the appropriate penalty for our error and may God have mercy on our souls.

Those women have the life, being able to have a secret place where only they can go and we can't. It's not fair.

Anyways, when we get to the library, it is wonderful. Though we have to be deathly silent, we get to do amazing things—like watch Chariots of Fire on this amazing box with amazing headphones—I'm not sure how it all works (but it never gets old!). We are sure if we so much as breathe at the wrong time, we will get kicked out, but the thrill is worth it.

Such lucky big college men and women; they get to watch these videos anytime they want. They have the life.

The big college men and women are themselves fascinating. Yes, they are very scary, especially the men—you are never sure if one will accidentally step on you. But they are so amazing. Brilliant. They have their lives completely figured out. They know exactly what their future holds. They don't have any problems. They completely understand everything they are learning in those mysterious things called "classes," all the theological nuances and deepest levels of meaning in the Bible. They write huge, flowing, eloquent treatises and thesis papers on the most intimate theology. They interact perfectly with their professors and get nothing but perfect grades in all their work—they are full grown adults, after all.

The professors themselves, omniscient gods of knowledge and wisdom, are the best of the best. In addition to having the entire Bible memorized, as well as being able to discuss the merits of every possible theological system invented by man, each imparts this wisdom to the students with all the confidence and certainty of truth as the apostle Paul himself. Now that I think of it, they probably have written most of the theological systems themselves.

These big college men and women; they have the life, let me tell you.

The year is 2012.

I am nineteen, having just finished my last semester at Rosedale as a college student. Some things have changed for me.

Rosedale is not the only place I know. It is not that big—the entire campus itself doesn't even cover a square mile. Heaven is not beyond the treeline, just a field. I can go out onto the huge "frontier" to play Ultimate Frisbee and fully expect to return. The huge "roads" are nothing more than short sidewalks connecting buildings a short distance apart. The men's dorm has lost it's mystery—instead it's become all too familiar. I've even been into the women's dorm a few times and survived to tell the tale!

The library isn't what it appeared to be then. I laugh now when I think about how excited I was to watch old videos on a small VCR player sharing headphones with my sister. We big college men and women aren't even scary anymore. We're not even big. And we still act like kids. A lot.

We don't get perfect grades, nor do we understand everything we are taught in class. And we don't know our future or have it all figured out. We still have problems—lots of them. And our professors aren't really gods. They don't know quite everything ... yet.

But, still, some things haven't changed.

Rosedale is still a magical place. And those college kids who go there?

They have the life.

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The Audacity of un/Certainty

The road to all good theology starts with uncertainty.

Whoa, Josiah, back up there. What did you just say?

Sorry. Ok, let’s start from the beginning. We all understand that there are some things we just simply do not know. We hypothesize this because we are constantly in the process of learning new things. The more we learn things that we previously did not know, the more we began to suspect that there must be knowledge yet that is beyond us. Case Study: John 21:15 – “And there are also many other things that Jesus did, which, if they were written one by one, I suppose not even the world itself could contain the books that would be written.” We see here that Jesus did things which we ourselves do not know about.

Furthermore, we also realize that we know some things incorrectly––that is, that we are wrong about some things. Again, we hypothesize this because we have had previous experiences before when it has become evident to us that we had believed something to be true that, in fact, was false. Case Study: Colossians 2:4 – “I say this in order that no one may delude you with plausible arguments.” Paul here recognizes that the human mind may be deluded (even with plausible-sounding arguments!); it can believe something untrue.

So we recognize that we are neither omniscient nor infallible.

And this is necessary. I call this State One. At this state, it is arrogant to claim that you know everything perfectly. Reason and common sense dictate that we admit that we neither know everything perfectly, nor do we know everything, period. It would be like a child claiming to know all the knowledge stored in the Library of Congress. In theology, this uncertainty is good, and, I believe God-ordained. Why?

Because it drives us to certainty.

What? Yes, it drives us to certainty. It drives us to State Two. How can certainty come from uncertainty? Clearly not through ourselves. The more we become uncertain in ourselves and in our own power to understand, the more we must become certain in the ability of God to be understandable. State Two is where we realize that, though we are uncertain, One who is perfectly certain has revealed truth to us. But State Two is more than that. State Two is not only where we believe that God is perfectly certain, but where we believe that we also can be certain. State Two is where we believe that what has been communicated to us by God has clarity.

State Two is where we trust that we can actually understand God’s Word.

“For this commandment that I command you today is not too hard for you, neither is it far off. It is not in heaven, that you should say, ‘Who will ascend to heaven for us and bring it to us, that we may hear it and do it?’ Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, ‘Who will go over the sea for us and bring it to us, that we may hear it and do it?’ But the word is very near you. It is in your mouth and in your heart, so that you can do it” (Deuteronomy 30:11-14).

Bold, right? What a claim. In this day and age of doctrinal “humility”, you actually claim that you can understand God when He speaks?

At this state, it is actually arrogant to be uncertain. It is actually arrogant to step back and say “I don’t know what the Bible really means.” Think about it. The God of all the universe, the Creator of every living thing, the Creator of the very concept of language, which you use to communicate, has condescended to “reveal His thoughts to man” (Amos 4:13) in a way that you can understand so that that you may know Him (Ephesians 1:17) …

…And you have the audacity to say you can’t understand? You have the audacity to complain that His Word is too hard for you?

I go to a college that lives and breathes State One. We live in a society that lives and breathes State One. The problem is that many in the visible church are content to stop at State One. It sounds so good. It sounds so humble. We see this especially when it comes to issues in Scripture that happen to be culturally or socially controversial.

It is assumed that the “humble” people are the ones who take a back seat on the issue; who throw up their hands and admit inability to understand. The “arrogant” and “cocky” people are the ones who “think they understand.” Who think “their interpretation is better than everyone else’s.” And so you hear phrases like “we need more humility in our theology,” (which we do, don’t get me wrong!) or “it’s arrogant of us to beat people over the head with the Bible.”

But all this assumes we are operating in State One. We are not operating in State One, though; we are operating in State Two. True humility is willing to look arrogant by trusting that God’s Word means what it says in a world that sees God’s Word itself as arrogant. Why might we be uncertain then?

We might be uncertain because we simply do not want to hear what the Word of God has to say. Again, think of a child whose parents have commanded him to do something that he doesn’t want to do. Or maybe they’ve commanded him to do something that will make him look dumb in front of his friends. He might say, “I just am too stupid to understand what my parents want me to do. I just can’t wrap my head around it. Besides, Billy here, who is smart, says that what my parents really want me to do is such and such.”

I shouldn’t have to tell you that this child isn’t being humble, he’s being arrogant.

Likewise, we might be uncertain because we aren’t willing to trust God as the supreme authority. Think of the child; this time his father has given him specific directions to go out as his agent and carry out a transaction at the local bank, which he owns. The child goes, but in his attempt to carry out the transaction, the banks officers tell him, “You think your father told you to do it this way, but you just didn’t understand him. He really meant to do it this way.” Or they might even flat out say, “Your father made a mistake. You really need to do things this way.” The child’s choice indicates where his trust lies.

I am not saying that there isn’t a place for reflection or reevaluation of one’s understanding of God’s Holy Word. But I am saying that it is God’s Holy Word! It is written in a way that we can understand it! And He expects us to do so.

Yes, we read in 2 Peter 3:16 that Paul “speaks about these things in all his letters in which there are some matters that are hard to understand.” I am not denying that. But look at what the rest of the verse says: “The untaught and unstable twist them to their own destruction, as they also do with the rest of the Scriptures.” There is an over-complication, an act of obscuring that takes place here which leads to destruction.

How does Peter tell us to respond to this fact? Verse 17: “Therefore, dear friends, since you know this in advance, be on your guard, so that you are not led away by the error of lawless people and fall from your own stability.”

The meaning of the Bible is not too hard for us. It is not in heaven where we cannot reach it. It is not beyond the sea where we cannot find it. It is not hidden away in some academic research professor’s office somewhere, where even he isn’t quite sure what all his research means. It is not to be found only through some mystical communal experience of love and unity. It is not accessible only through a musical or artistic state of euphoria.

It is very near us.

And I suspect that when we get to heaven, there will be many issues about which God will ask of us (in the deepest voice imaginable) why we did not simply take Him at His Word when He spoke to us through the Bible. We will turn to justify ourselves by pulling out all the reasons why we thought that the Bible was unclear. We will turn to retrieve all the people who disagreed with us; all the smart academic arguments that went against what the Bible seemed to be saying; all the cultural pressure that made it seem so right at the time to be uncertain.

But they will not be there. It will only be God and us––and the question: Why didn’t you believe?

And for the world, we won’t be able to think of an answer.

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on radicals

I once talked to a person. I’ll call him Bob. A Mennonite, no doubt. Close to my own age. Had grown up in a relatively conservative Anabaptist home, somewhat similar to my own.

“Bob” told me about a time he had been given the opportunity to speak to a group of people in a setting he and I were both familiar with. He described with some pleasure how he had used specially chosen words and topics in his speech to “wake them up a bit” and “get their attention”. He noted how he had dropped this word here and that word there and had taken such and such a radical stance on this controversy and that one.

Not that he was really like that, of course.

He then came to the punch line of his story. One of the older ladies in his audience, whom we both knew, had actually gone to the trouble of pulling him aside afterwards, concerned about what he had said! Could I believe it? She actually thought he had a problem! How superficial! Couldn’t she see his heart?

I was supposed to laugh. I didn’t.

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It’s all about being radical.

About moving things. About shaking things up. About getting old geezers out of their stick-in-the-mud ways and teaching them a little lesson about life, and freshness, and flexibility in the Christian walk.

And so we use a few grungy words now and then. Like a kid saying something dirty, then quickly peeping at his parents to see if he gets a reaction, we “let slip” the fact that we know “that” song or we went to “that” movie. We casually mention how we were “there” Friday night with “them”––grateful that our actions or the company we keep doesn’t define us, and that people don’t “judge” us by them. They know our character is different. Or at least they should.

If they don’t, that’s their problem.

After all, we come from a long line of radicals. I don’t even have to tell you about those “rascally scoundrels” (summary of the words of an endeared professor of mine) in the Old Testament (their exploits seem to be a much more favored topic of conversation on many Christian college campuses then their faith). And of course no one can deny that Jesus was a radical. Wasn’t he like, a total feminist or something? And didn’t he injure people with a whip?

And you can’t forget the Anabaptist fathers. Grebel was a daredevil. Blaurock was a hothead. Sattler, at his own trial, made the court secretary so mad the secretary was ready to kill him in the courtroom! There’s a reason they were called the “Radical Reformers”. These guys were the “bad boys” of their day. Nobody told them what to do.

I go to a radical Anabaptist college. They’re so counter-cultural. They’re always pushing the limits. They’ve got that edge.

I don’t buy it.

I don’t think they’re radical at all. I don’t think they’re counter-cultural, I think they’re very … cultural.

I think they obey and submit to the dictates of secular American culture.

Interesting to note that in keeping with the large feminist push that has started and is continuing in our culture, my college has also strongly pushed for feminism in the church, just like its surrounding culture.

As our world has become increasingly global and multicultural, my college has followed suit and pushed multicultural experience as well, even to the point of encouraging attaining knowledge of other cultures as a virtue in and of itself, and taking pride, even spiritual pride, in the diversity displayed on its campus…just as its surrounding culture does.

Just as in its surrounding culture, the prevailing ethic on my campus is tolerance: tolerance of other people’s lifestyle, their morality, and their religion, even to the point of eternal detriment and harm to these very same people!

My college applauds those who do humanitarian causes and holds them on a high pedestal, even if––and sometimes it seems especially if––they fail to bring them the gospel of Jesus Christ; they fail to address the most pressing issue of sin and biblical redemption, just like the world around it.

My college is very environmentally-friendly to the point of making it an ethic by itself––just like its surrounding culture.

My college discourages “getting in other people’s faces” about any kind of moral choice or “preference of truth” they might have, just like the surrounding culture.

My college presses for interfaith dialogue and coexistence between religions. Just like its surrounding culture.

And, most recently, my college has pressed for the legitimization and normalization of same-sex marriage over and above what I see as the very clear biblical witness otherwise.

Just. Like. The. World. Around. It.

So forgive me if I find it hard to see the difference between “worldly” radicalism and “Christian” radicalism. How does the ethic of radicalism that seems to be pushed today in Christian circles differ from the ethic of radicalism found in the world?

I fear in the Anabaptist circles we have made the gospel a gospel of radicalism. A gospel where being radical is a virtue simply for the sake of being radical. And, I think if we’re honest with ourselves, we’d have to admit that we don’t mind being radical, really. It feels good to be on the cutting edge. It feels good to be “in the know”, to “get it”, to be “ahead” of the historical curve.

Is there pride to be found in being radical?

I wonder about a different idea of radicalism. I rather think that the reason so many of our godly predecessors were seen as radical was not because radicalism was a virtue they possessed, but because their commitment to Christ and their submission to God led them to be different than the world around them.

Their gospel was not to be radical; their gospel made them radical in contrast to their surroundings. I think this type of radical looks a lot different than the type we see espoused today.

Do you want to be radical in your faith to Jesus Christ? Do you want to shake people, to surprise them, to convict them?

Then obey.

Obey the word of God. Simple, yet hard words.

A Christian that obeys is a radical like none other. A Christian that obeys will convict others through his life in ways far more powerful than any radical cause can do.

It’s easy to promote the latest humanitarian effort on Facebook––you can even look good doing it. It’s hard to deal with pride in your life.

It’s easy to sit down and blog about the latest injustice or discrimination (hmm… sounds like what I’m doing). It’s hard to obey a rule in the Bible that makes your friends, even close friends, think less of you or talk about you behind your back.

It’s easy to sing loudly and worship at a Christian concert. It’s hard to set aside time to worship privately each day.

I wonder if that’s something of what Samuel thought when King Saul met him after his successful victory over the Amalekites. It was impressive. It looked good. “I went on the mission the Lord gave me,” Saul said. “I brought back Agag, king of Amalek, and I completely destroyed the Amalekites. The troops took sheep and cattle from the plunder––the best of what was set apart for destruction––to sacrifice to the Lord your God at Gilgal” (1 Samuel 15:20-21).

God, speaking through Samuel, was not impressed. “Does the Lord take pleasure in burnt offerings and sacrifices as much as in obeying the Lord? Look: to obey is better than sacrifice; to pay attention is better than the fat of rams.”

Sacrifice is very public. It looks good on the outside. Like radicalism.

Obedience, though its results may show publicly, is private. It happens in the human heart.

And God takes pleasure in it. Far more than any public display of commitment.

Perhaps the real radical is the elder who takes seriously the command in Titus 1:9 to be “holding to the faithful message as taught, so that he will be able both to encourage with sound teaching and to refute those who contradict it.” Rather than looking to find something new and exciting in his doctrine––rather than looking for a fresh, radical theological twist, he quietly holds fast.

Perhaps the real radical is the wife who looks seriously into passages like 1 Corinthians 11 or 1 Timothy 2, and is quietly willing to graciously submit to her husband.

I am not promoting these as the key virtues of the Christian life, and I’m not saying that those who do them are more spiritual than those who don’t.

But are they not far more different from the world around them than those Christians who are wrapped up in being radical?

Are they not actually far more radical?

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“Therefore, brothers, stand firm and hold to the traditions you were taught, either by our message or by our letter.” – 2 Thessalonians 2:15

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the immortal idol? the doubting divinity?

It is not uncommon for a student on a college campus to get the bright idea of posting an “anonymous confession board” somewhere––these days usually through social media––with the grandiose plan of providing an outlet for “the free flow of thoughts, ideas, and feelings.”

In reality, most of the posts end up majoring on getting drunk, high, or naked.

I speak from experience. Eastern Mennonite University, the college I attend, had one of these last spring. Wading through the juvenile, irrelevant, and the I’m-only-saying-this-because-I-won’t-get-caught posts, I did find one nugget of profound truth, a question posed by what I assume to be a disgruntled, yet observant student.

I can’t reproduce exactly what she (my subconscious has designated “her” female for some reason) wrote, as her post has since been silently removed. But it went something like this:

“For all EMU talks about being open-minded and eclectic, why does the administration always invite controversial, liberal speakers and never controversial, conservative speakers?”

I’ll let her statement speak for itself.

However, as if to provide a case in point, EMU recently welcomed with open arms postmodern speaker/writer Peter Rollins, a theologian with significant connections to and influences on the emerging church movement. Rollins, described by some as “blurring the lines between theism and atheism,” is known for his provocative book titles such as The Idolatry of God: Breaking Our Addiction to Certainty and Satisfaction and To Believe is Human; to Doubt, Divine.

I have to admit: I didn’t attend any of his four sessions. But in reading EMU’s article (1) about his speeches, and from what I know about him elsewhere, I see some things in what he says that concern me; some dangerous philosophies that I’d like to respond to – if for no other purpose than to satisfy myself by ranting.

Here goes.

The article starts off with a quote from the movie Cool Runnings, where an Olympic coach gives his team some advice: “A gold medal is a wonderful thing,” he says. “But if you’re not enough without one, you’ll never be enough with one.”

Good, solid advice. But then the article presents Rollins as taking this quote and substituting God in for the gold medal.

Or, in other words, God is wonderful, but if you’re not enough without Him…

…you’ll never be enough with Him.

What? If I have correctly understood the author’s intent with this analogy, this seems to be a restatement of an old, old message––wrapped in new wrapping paper.

Humanism.

Humanism, in its truest sense, takes man and places him at the center of the universe, shoving God off to the side. Thus, history, rather than being a story about God (not to be cliché, but … “His Story”) and how He interacts and relates with man, becomes the story of man…

…and how he interacts with God on the side, of course.

So God still gets to have a part in the play––we wouldn’t kick Him out completely––but He can’t be, you know, the main character.

Know what? This philosophy is as old as the earth itself. It was introduced to Eve in the Garden of Eden by the serpent. Note how he tempts her: “You will not die,” he says to her. “In fact, God knows that when you eat it [the fruit] your eyes will be opened and you will be like God, knowing good and evil” (Genesis 3:4-5). In other words, “God is the star of the show right now, but if you eat this fruit, it will give you power to be the star of the show, and He doesn’t want that.” Rather than keeping her focus on God and His goodness, Eve chose to listen to the serpent and take her eyes off of God and focus them inwardly, on herself. On what she could gain. On how her actions might affect her.

But Rollins isn’t done. Unsatisfied with simply taking God off center stage, now God––the Righteous, True, Omniscient, Holy, Eternal, Self-existing, Omnipotent God; the Great I AM––that God; must be turned into an idol.

An idol? Yes, an idol.

“God … is too often (and falsely) imagined as an idol capable of providing true wholeness and fulfillment,” says Rollins. He also “criticized the church for getting people ‘drunk on sermons’ and on God to distract them from the reality that everyone ‘will die and never be again’ and everyone we love ‘will die a cold death’.” Indeed, the title of his most recent book succinctly sums up his view on the matter: The Idolatry of God: Breaking Our Addiction to Certainty and Satisfaction.

So Rollins would have us humans as the primary focal point of the entire universe, criticizing us (specifically evangelical ones of us) for obsessing over, being distracted by, addicted to, and deriving our certainty and satisfaction from being “drunk on god”, a god who is not worthy of us. A god who can’t fulfill our desires. A god who can’t give us what we need. A god…

…who is not enough.

And he’s right. To a point. We shouldn’t be addicted to and obsess over idols in our lives.

But God is not an idol.

We should be addicted to God. We should obsess over Him, and most certainly be distracted by Him.

He is our Way. He is our Truth. He is our Life (John 14:6; John 6:63). He is our Creator (Genesis 1:27). He is our Light (John 1:4,9). He is the Giver of grace and every spiritual blessing (John 1:16; Ephesians 1:3,7-8). He is our only Hope (Psalm 62:5; Psalm 39:7; Romans 15:13; Romans 8:24-25; Psalm 71:5; Psalm 33:18). He is our Strength (Isaiah 41:10). He is our Satisfaction (Isaiah 58:11; Isaiah 55:1; Psalm 103:5; Psalm 107:9; John 1:14; Matthew 5:6). He holds us together (Colossians 1:17). He is the Source of our delight and joy: “You reveal the path of life to me; in Your presence is abundant joy; in Your right hand are eternal pleasures” (Psalm 16:11).

And yet He is not enough?

He is worthy. “Worthy are You, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for You created all things, and by Your will they existed and were created” (Revelation 4:11). And again in Psalm 145:3, “Great is the LORD and most worthy of praise; His greatness no one can fathom.”

He is enough. “And my God will supply all your needs according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:19). “But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness’” (2 Corinthians 12:9).

That is the difference between God and an idol. An idol is not enough. It cannot satisfy you. It is not worthy of your praise.

But God is.

Rollins is also a big advocate of doubt, perhaps best known for his catchphrase “to believe is human; to doubt, divine.” He understands doubt to be central to the Christian faith, stating that “religion falsely promises to offer the certainty and satisfaction that we seek,” and “religion helps us avoid facing up to our brokenness and troubles … [and] that is devastating.” Thus, since we all have doubt, he concludes that we need to “learn to live with being human, being broken, being, in a sense, unfulfilled. And in the shared humanity of that, you find true fulfillment.”

Again, my response would be to first pull the nugget of truth out of his words. Yes, doubt is part of the Christian walk, and we all experience it to some level or another. And yes, it can even strengthen us in our Christian walk to go through times of doubt.

But doubt is not the final destination for the Christian. It is not divine to doubt; indeed our divine God knows all things (Psalm 147:5; Psalm 139:4; Isaiah 40:28; Jeremiah 23:24, 1 John 3:20), being “perfect in knowledge” (Job 37:16).

Rollins seems to make several assumptions that are unfounded. He seems to assume that since doubt is common to all humans, doubt is common to God. He assumes that since all humans and therefore all Christians have doubt, it is somehow a good and healthy part, even a product of our sanctified, regenerated being, and not a product of our sinful nature. And finally he seems to assume that our destination is to find fulfillment in our doubt.

But we must look to Scripture for our answers. Many times Jesus waited to heal until people overcame their doubt; it sometimes even seems He was hindered by it (Mark 13:57-58). Note His conversation with the man who had a demon-possessed son: “If You can do anything, have compassion on us and help us,” the man said. “’IF You can’?” Jesus challenged the man. “Everything is possible to the one who believes.” Immediately the father of the boy cried out, “I do believe! Help my unbelief” (Mark 9:22b-24).

Jesus wanted this man and others to overcome their doubt. He didn’t want them to be stuck in uncertainty.

Rollins says that doubt is critical to Christian life; the Bible says that doubt destroys our life. (Proverbs 3:5; Matthew 14:32; Matthew 21:21; Mark 11:23; John 20:27).

“Now if any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives to all generously and without criticizing, and it will be given to him. But let him ask in faith without doubting. For the doubter is like the surging sea, driven and tossed by the wind. That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. An indecisive man is unstable in all his ways” (James 1:5-8).

Rather than doubt, we must have faith. “Now faith is the reality of what is hoped for, the proof of what is not seen. For our ancestors won God’s approval by it. By faith we understand that the universe was created by God’s command, so that what is seen has been made from things that are not visible” (Hebrews 11:1-3).

Where does faith come from? “Faith comes from what is heard, and what is heard comes through the message about Christ” (Romans 10:17).

So is the Christian consigned to live with doubt forever? Is doubt the final destination of the believer? Is doubt where we find our fulfillment?

No.

If I could encourage Peter Rollins with one passage from Scripture, I would pick 1 John 3:18-20:

Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth. By this we shall know that we are of the truth and reassure our heart before him; for whenever our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart, and he knows everything.

The opposite of doubt is to know. And we shall know. Whenever our heart condemns us, whenever our doubts rush in, whenever our fears press hard, God is greater than our heart, greater than our doubt, greater than our fears…

And He knows.

Everything.

The question is not: “are you enough without God?” We already know the answer to that (Isaiah 53:6; Romans 3:23; Romans 5:6; John 15:5; Jeremiah 10:14; Proverbs 28:26).

The question is: Will you let God be enough for you?

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On Contacts, Watermelons, and Privileges

I wear contacts.

This means that every night, before I go to bed, I have to take them out. Which means that I need access to the bathroom, where my contact solution and case are stored. Which means that if someone is currently in said room, I can’t go to bed until they are finished so that I can get in to take out my contacts. Which means that I get angry.

Why?

Because I have a Right––and that Right is being trampled. It is my Right to be able to go to bed the instant I want to; therefore if someone is inhibiting me from attaining my Right, I have every Right to be angry and frustrated with them.

I have many Rights like that. I have the Right to drive faster than the ten-miles-per-hour-under-the-speed-limit pace the wonderful individual in front of me is keeping. The Right to quiet when I’m trying to sleep. The Right to exclusive use of “my” chair in the classroom, or “my” space in the library. The Right to an easy, smooth life––free of complications.

The problem with many of these Rights is that they’re myths. I don’t really have them; I’ve just invented them inside my head.

Don’t we do that a lot? We take a desire for something and turn it into a Right. There are many ways our society does this today: As consumers, we have the Right to expect everything to be suited toward our exact tastes and convenience. As children, the Right to have parents provide everything wished for. As Americans…

…the Right to protection.

It seems you can’t breathe wrong on Facebook these days without starting a debate on gun control. I see so many guns pointed at me on my news feed, I have to resist the urge to reach for the sky: “Please don’t hurt me; you can have all my Farmville credits!” (Ok, maybe I stretched the truth a little bit). I had a friend facetiously post a picture of a watermelon to see if it could be used to start a gun control debate. (It was).

But what concerns me isn’t the debate. To be honest, I feel that if we’re going by the US Constitution, the Second Amendment sort of puts a stop to all debate.

What concerns me is who is doing the debating. It concerns me that the vast majority of people on my news feed involved in the debate are Christians. It concerns me to see people in my church posting pictures of guns or quoting the US Constitution as if it were the Bible itself. It concerns me to see a fellow Christian post a picture of a well-known, secular celebrity, applauding her for having weapons in her house and her willingness to use them on attackers.

Why the outcry against gun control? Why the backlash against the government placing stricter regulations on the ownership of weapons? Because it infringes upon and threatens our Rights. Our Right to protection–from the government; from other countries; from individuals who might harm us. Our Right to stay safe. Our Right not to be harmed.

Wait.

Aren’t Christian’s the ones who aren’t supposed to have any rights? Haven’t Christians given up their claim to this world, instead choosing to be pilgrims and sojourners in this land so that they might be citizens of a better kingdom?

“Which one of you having a slave tending sheep or plowing will say to him when he comes in from the field, ‘Come at once and sit down to eat’?” Jesus asks in Luke 17. “Instead, will he not tell him, ‘Prepare something for me to eat, get ready, and serve me while I eat and drink; later you can eat and drink’? Does he thank that slave because he did what was commanded? In the same way, when you have done all that you were commanded, you should say, ‘We are good-for-nothing slaves; we’ve only done our duty.’”

Slaves don’t have Rights. Christians are slaves––to God (Matthew 6:24; Luke 1:38; Acts 4:29; Romans 1:1; 6:16, 18, 21-22; 7:25; Galatians 1:10). Do we have that attitude when it comes to our Rights? Do we imitate Christ Jesus “who, existing in the form of God, did not consider equality with God as something to be used for His own advantage” (Philippians 2:6), and “who, when He was reviled, reviled not again; when He suffered, He threatened not; but committed himself to Him that judges righteously” (1 Peter 2:23)?

In all our concern for our Rights, it seems we Christians have forgotten about a wonderful Privilege that is granted to us as servants of Jesus.

A Right is different than a Privilege.

A Right is expected. A Privilege takes us by surprise and delights us. A Right must be grasped and defended. A Privilege is given to us freely, for which we are grateful. Once a Privilege becomes taken for granted, expected, and seen as necessary, it ceases to be a Privilege.

Rather, it becomes a Right.

Privileges make us forget all about our Rights. A child who feels he has the Right to Mom’s undivided attention will forget all about fighting for his Right if his favorite uncle shows up and gives him the Privilege of taking him out for ice-cream.

So what is this wonderful Privilege we have been given? Does it surprise us, delight us?

Well, it should probably surprise us, but delight us I doubt.

It’s the Privilege of suffering.

“For it has been given to you on Christ’s behalf not only to believe in Him, but also to suffer for Him, having the same struggle that you saw I had and now hear that I have.” – Philippians 1:29-30.

Once again, it seems, the way of Jesus proposed by the New Testament is so upside down and backward from our normal thinking. Yes, we know we may have to suffer, but are we to see that as a privilege? Really?

Yes. We are. “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” – James 1:2-4. And again in Romans 5:3-5: “We also rejoice in our afflictions, because we know that affliction produces endurance, endurance produces proven character, and proven character produces hope. This hope will not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us.”

Jesus calls us to stop striving for our Rights. Rather, He gives us something greater on which to fix our attention. He calls us to let go of our Rights, to give them up. We were never made to protect our rights. That’s His job. And yet it seems so often we forget that.

When are we going to stop fighting for a man-made Right given to us by the Second Amendment and instead focus on the God-given privilege that comes to those who serve Him?

The Privilege of suffering for and believing in Christ.

Which gives us the true right to be called Children of God (Philippians 1:29, John 1:12).

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Dockers says "wear the pants"

Once upon a time, men wore the pants, and wore them well. Women rarely had to open doors and little old ladies never crossed the street alone. Men took charge because that’s what they did.

But somewhere along the way, the world decided it no longer needed men. Disco by disco, latte by foamy non-fat latte, men were stripped of their khakis and left stranded on the road between boyhood and androgyny.

But today, there are questions our genderless society has no answers for. The world sits idly by as cities crumble, children misbehave and those little old ladies remain on one side of the street. For the first time since bad guys, we need heroes. We need grown-ups. We need men to put down the plastic fork, step away from the salad bar and untie the world from the tracks of complacency.

It’s time to get your hands dirty. It’s time to answer the call of manhood.

It’s time to WEAR THE PANTS.

Amen.
 
Every so often an ad is produced that actually says something, such as this recent one from Dockers. Sure, I realize that they're trying to sell pants, but the message they're putting across is refreshing. It flies in the face of the majority of ads these days that subtly hail the immature man -- the guy who dumps his girlfriend in favor of the ad's product, the guy who does whatever it takes to play video games all day, the guy who uses a certain fragrance -- such as Axe -- and is guaranteed a greater sexual prowess and multiple female partners, all with zero effort on his part -- this is the type of male that the media elevates and glorifies.
 
So men, wear the pants. You don't have to be a male chauvinist. But open doors for women, take charge, do the hard and the dirty work so others don't have to. Stand up for those who are not as strong as you, be willing to make the tough decisions. I think you'll find women more appreciative as a result.

Just remember to wear a good brand of pants while you're doing it.

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