Love and Being Single During the Holidays

The holiday season can get pretty depressing. To start off with, you've got the short number of daylight hours and the bitter cold. Add to that the stress of shopping for gifts and navigating the treacherous waters of family gatherings, as well as the high probability of gaining weight, and you've got a winning recipe for some December despair. (Add powdered sugar as desired.) Spending the holidays as a single adult can be the icing on the cake, or the whipped cream on a large glass of eggnog. So, considering my own long-held status as a bachelor, I wasn't particularly surprised that a few friends have asked me how I'm holding up this month. “Are you feeling lonely?” they've asked. Happily, the Holiday Blues isn't something I've really been afflicted with. 

While I sincerely appreciate the concern of those friends, the question itself reminded me of how much our society privileges a certain type of companionship:  the romantic kind. There's a world of good to be said about romance and being able to share your life with a girlfriend or spouse. But we're told again and again in books, movies, shows, and  advertisements that life is all about finding that special someone. It's about falling in love while staring into each other's eyes over a candlelit dinner or in the rain. We're taught that living without romantic love somehow makes you unfulfilled or less than a whole person. If I'm going to measure this year by the standard of finding “the one,” 2013 was a failure. 

Fortunately for me and the other singles out there, romance isn't all that life, or even love, consists of. I know this deep down, from experience, and from the teachings of Jesus and his disciples. For Jesus, love wasn't finding “the one person waiting for you,” (as a recent eHarmony ad claims), or even going to Zales to show your spouse how much she means to you. In his mind, there was no greater love than laying down his life for his friends, than dying for us while we were still sinners. No mushy feelings, no flowery declarations of affection or love poems. Hard sacrifice. He knew that what matters most isn't that we've found our soul mates, but that we've loved our neighbors as ourselves. In the Greek of the New Testament, that love is undetachable from our behavior. It's centered around actions rather than feelings, in our deeds more than just what we say. Trusting in God's definition of love instead of Hallmark's can be extremely difficult. But it's what He wants from us.

If there's one thing I regret about this year, then, it's not that I'm single. It's looking back on all the ways I could have lived in a way more worthy of the sacrifice Jesus made for me. I think about the words spoken out of anger and unkindness, about the many times when I could have extended my hand to help someone in need and didn't. I hope that 2014 will see me treating people at even a percentage of how well God and my family and friends have treated me. I hope that the fact that life is less about who we love than how we love won't just remain as a thought in my head, but that I can actually act on it by being a more positive force in people's lives. That I can show love, in deed and in truth, to family, friends, strangers, and enemies. And, if God wills, that special someone.  

"In very nature God": The Gift of Christmas

Looking back, I'm often surprised by how long it took for me to believe in Jesus and the God of Christianity. God has changed me so much in the last year and a half that my 26 years as a non-Christian almost feel like they were part of another life. But as recently as 2011, I could have listed about a dozen misgivings and doubts that prevented me from letting Christ into my life. Morally, theologically, and practically, Christianity made very little sense to me. The concepts of the incarnation and the divinity of Jesus were right up there among the stumbling blocks.

I'm far from being the only person for whom these were major obstacles to belief. In the centuries since Jesus walked the earth, the idea that the deity that created the whole universe became a human being was either nonsense or blasphemy for many people. (This remains the case to this day.) The beatings and painful death he suffered in Jerusalem were hardly selling points for Christianity, either. The fact that his apostles continued to proclaim his victory and kingship over the whole world after his death seemed like complete foolishness to Jew and Gentile alike.

Yet God's purposes in sending His Son to live among us weren't thwarted by Jesus' death and resurrection, but were fulfilled by his obedience to the Father. Not as a spirit, but as a man. Like the rest of us, he got hungry and thirsty and dirty. He worked with his hands for a living before his public ministry, probably as a carpenter or stonemason. The last thing he seemed like was the long-awaited King of Israel. But there were signs from the very beginning of his life that Jesus was the Lord and Savior that the prophets had predicted, and for whom the oppressed people of Israel had eagerly waited and prayed for. At the same time, God gave humanity the Savior they needed rather than the one they wanted. He was to be a man of peace rather than war, preaching a Kingdom of God whose real enemy wasn't the Roman Empire that ruled politically over the Jews, but the forces of sin and death that ruled in the hearts of all people. He was to be a man of compassion rather than wrath, of humility rather than arrogance.

Thus, the wise men and shepherds come to kneel before him as King not in a palace, but in a lowly, dirty manger. His childhood is spent not in a nobleman's house in the lap of luxury, but in a household sustained by hard work and modest living. In these things, and in his refusal to play by the rules of human behavior set by millennia of violence, oppression, and grabs for worldly power, Jesus proved himself to be stronger than any man who had ever lived.

From beginning to end, Jesus challenged his contemporaries to radically change their definition of what it meant to truly be a human being made in God's image. More than that, through his actions, teachings, and self-sacrifice, he urged them to drastically re-center their ideas about God around him. Around a man born in a manger, a man who worked hard with his hands, a man who refused to hate or preach violence against the Romans. Around pure, divine love, the only thing really able to defeat the forces of sin and death that had marred mankind's ability to be God's children.

This month, we celebrate the physical birth of our Lord and Savior in Bethlehem. Not as a fully-formed adult or a disembodied spirit, but as a human baby. More often than not, our proclamations of Jesus' immaculate conception and divinity will be greeted with confusion, disbelief, or charges of blasphemy. People reacted the same to the apostles when they preached these aspects of the Gospel as they do now. But against all the shouts of the world that the idea of God becoming man is ridiculous, that it is below God to be physical or to live like a normal man, we hold up the love of the God who refused to give up on us. Who, knowing our frailty and weakness against temptation, came Himself to save His people and fulfill His plans for creation. Jesus, "who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; but made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness." (Philippians 2:6-7)

It could only be the Son, no one else. As much as this may seem foolish or like a stumbling block to faith in God, this fact is the center of our lives in Him. We are children of God, redeemed through His own actions. Saved by a man who was born, who walked and worked, ate and drank, and who suffered on a cross for his fellow human beings. For us. Behind all the family gatherings and presents and food, this Christmas season is about a God who loved us enough to live amongst us. And knowing this in our hearts is worth more than all the gifts in the world.

Black Santa and the War on Christmas

The catastrophic threat posed by Penguin Santas cannot be overstated.
Be warned:  their cuteness is only a cunning ruse to deceive us!

Christmas is under attack. And even though the war of the atheist agenda has been waging for years, now it's serious. It's gotten so bad that historical revisionists are attempting to suggest that Santa could be black, or even a penguin. All to coddle those who can't deal with the fact that the fictional figure loosely based on a real person, whose depictions for the last hundred years have been mostly a result of a successful advertising campaign by Coca-Cola, is a white, wholesome American. It's yet another affront to the Judaeo-Christian culture that we hold dear. The best we can do against such assaults is to stand behind Fox News, close off our minds to all ideas from the surrounding culture, and affix our “Keep Christ in Christmas” bumper stickers with pride. 

As you might be able to guess from the sarcasm of the above paragraph, the so-called War on Christmas doesn't worry me much. If we're thinking of the war as many religious and social conservatives see it, it's already been lost. Christmas in America is a largely secular holiday and has been for a long time. This is even more so in most of Europe. As an American, part of me is glad of that fact. At its best, our country is an inclusive, pluralist society. Non-Christian celebration of Christmas, by atheists, agnostics, and adherents of other religions, is a welcome step toward that ideal. The holiday season, I believe, can bring Americans together in a way that few other traditions are capable of. Of course, there is a dark side of Christmas, and a great danger posed by commercialism and materialism. (One has only to go to a Walmart on Black Friday to get a glimpse of it.) 

But in general, to those who have become distraught and feel that their belief system is being attacked by the secularization or marginalization of Christmas, I say:  lighten up. Take a breath and think about God. The Jesus whose birth we are celebrating (probably not even in the correct season) doesn't need defending. As we rant about how our society is being destroyed from within, he is seated as King at the right hand of the Father. He can take care of himself. His Kingdom can proceed with or without “proper” celebration of his birth. Disciples can be made and lives drastically transformed by the Gospel. Nothing can undo the victory of his cross and resurrection. And the holiday that celebrates these crucial events, Easter, is still firmly in the Christian camp (in spite of the attempts of the gay Easter Bunny agenda). 

It is true that, as Christians, we don't belong to this world or the elements that rule it. We belong to Christ, and Christ belongs to God. But how can we act as the light of the world if we close ourselves off from it entirely and allow our paranoia to shut out our compassion? Or, for that matter, our holiday cheer? So, to quote the jolly black man himself, “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!” Not just to devout Christians, but to everyone. Have a Merry Christmas!

Mandela: Embodying Hope for a Better World

In the dramatic climax of one of my favorite movies, V for Vendetta, hundreds of thousands of Englishmen and women peacefully storm Trafalgar Square on the 5th of November as V had urged them to do. (SPOILER ALERT) Faced with a sea of Guy Fawkes masks, army officers attempt to communicate with Supreme High Chancellor Sutler and Party Leader Creedy for commands. No commands come, for reasons obvious to those who have seen the movie. Faced with the choice to gun down thousands of his countrymen, the general orders the army to stand down. Miraculously, not a shot is fired as V's supporters climb over barricades and walk right through ranks of soldiers. The movie ends on a high note with the explosion of Parliament, an emotionally powerful monologue by Natalie Portman's character, and the promise of a fresh new start for Britain. Peaceful resistance, along with V's genius intellect and knack for knife throwing, have freed the country from authoritarian rule. 

I've often imagined what a sequel might look like. I doubt it would be as positive as the ending of the first movie. It would, perhaps, involve someone from Adam Sutler's old group of friends coming to power after guaranteeing political and economic stability to the British voters. Or maybe the new leader would be Chief Inspector Finch, whose public support by Evie Hammond would cement him as an embodiment of the revolution. Upon election, he would soon fall prey to the temptations of power and become as despotic as Sutler had been, violently putting down all protests and dissent. During either scenario, Evie Hammond would be looking on helplessly as her country falls apart and wonder if V's years of planning and self-sacrifice had all been for nothing. 

Of course, the plot of this sequel is purely imaginative on my part. But the pages of modern history are filled with similar sequences of events of brutally crushed revolts and failed revolutions. Even when people with honorable intentions do manage to overthrow a government, one must often expect decades of political upheavals, economic instability, and backsliding into violence and oppression. Unfortunately, this fact isn't limited to history books. Egyptians, for example, are living in a country that was full of hope after its 2011 revolution. Since then, the vision of fair government and prosperity that led so many people to Tahrir Square has been marred again and again by people who want nothing but power and money, and are willing to play on Egyptians' fears and doubts about the future to justify human rights abuses and political exclusion. Watching a country that I love continue to be held hostage in this way confirms for me that, when it comes to human government throughout the centuries, abuses of power and unsuccessful attempts to establish peace and justice are the norm. 

And then, there are the extremely rare occasions when things change decisively for the better. There are the apparent miracles in which the widespread clashes and violent opposition that one would expect to accompany drastic political and social change is nowhere to be found. There is no greater example of this in recent history than the first free elections in South Africa in 1994. When the African National Congress party and Nelson Mandela came to power through a peaceful transition, the world looked on as apartheid died, not with one last bang but with a fizzle. It was a fitting death for an evil system that had already destroyed so many lives. In the years after the elections, instead of perpetuating the cycle of violence and retribution in a way similar to the Nuremberg Trials, Mandela, Desmond Tutu, and others chose the much more difficult path of national and individual healing through the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. In the years to come, I hope that the country continues to be molded into the vision imagined by Mandela. With remnants of apartheid like racism and economic inequality persisting to this day, South Africa has a long way to go before his dream is fully realized. 

But Mandela's importance isn't contingent on South Africa's GDP or crime rate. He didn't only lead the country into a time of hope; he embodied that hope himself. Through his compassion and selflessness, he made people believe that racial equality could be the norm rather than an unattainable goal. He gave South Africans and all peace-loving people reason to have faith that there is good left in the world, that justice can be restored. Not easily, not magically overnight, but through constant hard work and open minds and hearts. 

In his fierce determination to serve other people, he redefined what it meant to be a leader in a world where the machinery of government is so often based on self-aggrandizement and exclusion. He gave us hope that more leaders like him can spring up in times when restoration and healing are sorely needed. Considering the enormous impact he has had on people's lives, it is tempting to despair at our own inability to change the way things are. It's easy to mourn his death and lament the fact that there will never be anyone quite like him again. As a man, he's dead and buried. But as a symbol of hope, of love, of peace, he is still out there in the world, reminding us that the only life worth living is one lived for the betterment of others. He was you. He was me. At our most hopeful. At our best. Gone, but never forgotten. 

The Difficulty of Thanksgiving

A Thanksgiving tradition (waning in popularity, but still in practice among some families I know) is to go around the dinner table and have each member of the family share what they're most thankful for. It's a tradition that I think the apostle Paul would have greatly appreciated. More than that, I suspect he would have looked at it as his annual opportunity to really let loose on what he was grateful for. I imagine him patiently waiting for a boy preceding him to finish talking about the new puppy his parents had given him. Then, unrolling a scroll, clearing his throat, and taking a drink of water, Paul would rattle off a list while everyone else at the table wonders how long Uncle Paul will go this time. He would, I imagine, be a bit like the recipient at an awards shows whose acceptance speech continues far after the transition music has started and who has to be practically dragged offstage.  

Greer Garson, whose acceptance speech at the 1942 Oscars holds the record
as the longest ever. She spoke for 5 and a half minutes. 

His list, I suspect, would be larger than most of ours. He would start off with his gratitude for the faithfulness of God in sending Jesus to save mankind and His whole creation, for his conversion on the road to Damascus and his undeserved apostleship, for forgiveness. Then, special comments for each of the Christian communities he had founded or been involved in building, and for the successes he and his churches had made in spreading the Gospel. (Thanksgiving is an important part of each of Paul's letters to churches, except to the Galatians, with whom he was very angry at the time.) All well and good at this point. But Paul's next statements would cause the other people at the table to shake their heads in confusion. “Finally, as difficult as it is sometimes,” he might say, “I'm thankful for all things. Even for the beatings, the humiliations, the stonings. For being imprisoned and ridiculed and spit on. All of it. All of it is for the glory of God. I could go on if you'd like...” At which point the rest of the family politely suggests that it's time for dessert and coffee to be brought out. 

Of course, I'm putting words into Paul's mouth a bit here. But his letters are very much in agreement with the idea that one can and should always be thankful, even in what we would see as negative situations:  “Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” (1 Thess. 5:16-18); and, “Have no anxiety about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” (Philippians 4:6) 

Like Jesus' command in the gospels for us not to worry about tomorrow, this is one of the most difficult aspects of Paul's theology. Not to understand intellectually, but to put into daily practice. Giving thanks even in our misfortunes and hard times seems completely impracticable. It isn't enough for us to dismiss the above verses as Paul placing unrealistic expectations on believers that he doesn't follow himself. Nor is it simply that he has an exceptionally good attitude (though he often seems to). Something has changed him drastically enough that he is able to say with conviction about his own life and those of other believers, “We know that in everything God works for good with those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose.” (Romans 8:28) 

Paul's constant thanksgiving, as well as his perception of God's purposes even in the hardships we face, are founded on the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus. Through Jesus' life, death, and resurrection, God decisively defeated the forces of sin and death that had enslaved mankind. As often as this may not seem the case considering all the evil that still exists in the world, Paul considered himself to be living in a time between Jesus' decisive victory and the final declaration of peace. For Paul, the war's final battle had been won by God on that first Easter morning. His Kingdom, with Jesus as its head over all creation, had already begun and would be fully ushered in at his return. In the meantime, Paul saw it as his vocation to spread the good news that Jesus was king. A crucified and resurrected king, which was a fact that seemed like foolishness to both Jews and Gentiles. Yet through all the things that made him appear weak, in his humility, poverty, servanthood, imprisonment, and execution, Jesus was actually on his way to enthronement at the right hand of the Father. 

This shocking revelation of how God's will was accomplished on earth, as well as Jesus' own command that his disciples must bear their own crosses if they wished to follow him, forced Paul to drastically re-imagine what it meant for God to be both omnipotent and loving. This was a god whose rescue mission for mankind had been accomplished through what appeared as weakness and powerlessness to the world. But after his resurrection, Jesus' disciples knew better. And so did Paul. 

With Jesus' victory over sin and death through his own suffering and self-sacrifice, Paul can not only give thanks for severe difficulties, but boast in them:  “I will all the more gladly boast of my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong!” (2 Corinth. 12:9-10) Paul can be firm in the knowledge that Jesus is King and that he is doing God's will, even while in apparent disgrace in prison. While being beaten and in danger of death, he can write to his churches with authority as one who is strong in his weakness. Without the impact of Jesus on his life, Paul might have resigned himself to the fact that God was punishing him for his sins and/or sending him a wake-up call to repent. He might call down divine judgment on his enemies that had put him in such negative situations. He might pray to God for restoration and salvation from imprisonment and insults. But being thankful for them, and to even boast? Never. This is, I believe, a radical change from the writings of the Old Testament (see many of the Psalms or the book of Job). 

For Paul in his letters, theology is not just some emotionally-detached, rationally-centered way of talking about a distant supreme being. It is about being transformed and renewed, inside and out. It is about knowing that God has acted to save the world in ways contrary to human wisdom, through suffering and self-sacrifice. In urging us to be thankful in all things, Paul isn't advising us to ignore or sweep our sadness or frustration over hardship under the rug. Instead, he's asking us to see the events in our lives through the eyes of a god who loves us and has determined that all will ultimately be well. This kind of thanksgiving isn't easy. (I speak here from personal experience as someone who has always found it extremely difficult.) But I believe it's well worth it to try to see the forest rather than the trees. Not only once a year around the dinner table, but in all our waking moments. 

Note:  My thanks to my teacher, Marty Koenig, whose recent Bible class provided many of the scripture verses and ideas for this post. 

Ten Year Reunions and Evaluating Success

There are certain occasions that become, willingly or not, times to evaluate ourselves and what we've done in our lives. Birthdays and New Year's, for example, are obvious candidates for reflecting on the good and the bad, the successes and failures, of the previous year. This also turned out to be the case in the weeks leading up to my ten year high school reunion this Saturday.

During those weeks, I found myself faced with a continuous decision to make. Should I mourn the fact that I'm not exactly where I expected to be ten years ago in terms of a career and a family? Should I look back on those years primarily as a time when I should have achieved more? For a moment, I considered letting such negativity, along with the belief that the existence of Facebook has made reunions a bit redundant, prevent me from going at all. 

The second option, the more difficult one, was to acknowledge that life rarely goes how we imagine it to when we're teenagers. At the same time, it was to strive to be grateful for the exciting experiences I've had and the wonderful people I've met in the last ten years. It was to be thankful for the fact that I'm on my way to entering a career that I hope will be challenging and fulfilling and will allow me to make a small contribution to the world and the people in it. It was to let go of regret, of unrealistic expectations, of attempting to control every facet of life. 

More than that, choosing the second option led me to reconsider how to evaluate success. Should success really be measured in raises and promotions, in new cars and expensive wardrobes, or in how well we have treated others and been a positive force in their lives? These things don't have to be in opposition to each other. Often, the best way to care for the people we love is by advancing in our jobs and supporting them monetarily. What it comes down to are where our priorities lie. Are people more important to us, or things? God (or at least living morally), or money? Money isn't a bad thing on its own. Neither is having pride in the quality of work we do. But it is when we put material gain and selfish ambition at the center of who we are and how we interact with people that we begin to lose our perspective on what it is to be humans made in God's image.

Yup. That's me.

I like to think that I chose the second option more often than the first in the weeks before my reunion, with all the re-evaluations of success that came with it. I ended up having a great time on Saturday night. (It probably helped that so many people in my graduating class have always been nice and easy to get along with.) The reunion reminded me that we ultimately get to determine how we evaluate our pasts and fill our futures with meaning. We can feel sorry for ourselves, regretting that we didn't get the things we wanted when we wanted them. We can set ourselves up for a lifetime of perceived disappointments and feel like we got less than we deserved. Or we can try our best to be thankful for the road that God has led us down, learn from the missed opportunities when we could have loved God and neighbor more, and look forward to where we will be in our lives by the time of our next high school reunions. “The choice,” as my middle school principal used to say every morning, “is yours.”

For my Grandparents, and for All the Saints

As I was helping my dad carry some furniture out of my paternal grandparents' house a few months ago, my mind kept returning to one thought:  It's strange not to hear my grandma whistling. Since her passing this March, the house had felt empty to me. No longer was it filled with her loud, constant whistling that had echoed through the rooms. Often, it was hymns and spiritual songs, the same kind of music that she would play on her organ when I was a kid. It was apparent to us how much she loved music, and as a child I loved listening to it. 

Though my grandma's passion for music was perhaps the most outward expression of my grandparents' faith, I had experienced it in other ways as well. It was rare for them to miss a Sunday service at the local church they had attended diligently for several decades; it was at their urging that my siblings and I were often forced out of bed by my parents to join them. Copies of the Bible could be found in almost every room of their house, of practically every size and translation you could imagine. 

But when I was a kid, I didn't care about stuff like that. Sure, I loved my grandparents a lot, but the music and the Bibles, the sayings of grace before meals and the occasional references to God or Jesus Christ, were just the background to family visits. I was more interested in making sure I ate as much of my grandma's homemade apple pie as I could than talking to them about their beliefs. Even as a “born again” in high school, I didn't think of them as individuals who had had their own spiritual journeys and experiences, with unique wisdom and insights about God that I could learn from. They were simply my grandparents. 

By the time I came back to Christianity last year, my grandpa had passed, and my grandma was very ill. I couldn't remember having a single conversation with either of them about God. And I regretted that. I felt like I had taken their stable faith for granted as a child and young adult. I was convinced that I had lost out on some wonderful opportunities for bonding and learning from them as Christians. 

After my grandma's passing in March, I was blessed to acquire many of the Bibles, hymnals, and religious objects that had helped make their home the place of love and warmth that it was. Leafing through the Bibles, I noticed a few bookmarks, dog-eared pages, underlined passages, margin notes, and references to particular verses. There weren't too many of these; I got the impression that they had really meant to highlight their favorite verses and passages. Almost immediately, I realized what I had in front of me. This was my chance to talk to them, to find out what really mattered to them, what drove them to live out their faith day by day. For the next few hours, reading the verses they had underlined and commented on, I finally got to have that conversation with my grandparents that I had wanted. I like to think I learned a lot about them that day, about their relationship with God, about the comfort and peace they received from Him, about why they chose to live and love as joyfully and passionately as they did. 

Just like that, any feelings of guilt or regret I had harbored about my grandparents were gone as a result of this gift that God had given me. Those feelings were replaced by a strong sense of gratitude and hope toward the saints that I think we can all share as Christians. Gratitude, for the love and faith that they so often displayed while they were with us, and for the sure knowledge that they are now under the personal care of our Lord and Savior. Hope, that we will be able to live up to the example of Christian discipleship that they set for us, and that one day we will be able to continue our conversations with them in a place where death will never again be able to separate us. 

IT, Fear, and Re-Centering our Lives

Whenever I mention to someone that I have a bit of an irrational fear of clowns (which comes up in conversation more often than you would think), one of the first things I'm asked is, “Oh man, you must really get freaked out by IT then, right?”. Surprisingly, though, I don't. Pennywise is probably the only clown I've ever seen that hasn't given me the heebie jeebies. Maybe it's because Stephen King is one of my favorite authors, or because I've seen his two-part miniseries a dozen times over the years. But mostly, I think it's because I know that the man behind the makeup and fangs is Tim Curry. As great as his performance as Pennywise is, half the time I'm thinking about him as a stodgy butler or as a sweet transvestite. Being aware of his other famous roles somehow diffuses any fear that the character of Pennywise might have otherwise sprung up in me. In my mind, the same can't be said for any other clown, who could actually be a blood-sucking demon for all I know. 

IT is a movie. As an adult, I know that movies are nothing to be scared of, that they're just images on a screen. But my somewhat arbitrary distinction of Pennywise as being innocuous compared to other clowns brings out for me the fact that fear isn't something that's objective or concrete. It's a product of our mind, a remnant of our original set of survival instincts. That doesn't mean that strong fear feels any less real for us when we're in the middle of it, or that there aren't some things that are healthy for us to fear. It does mean that fear can be put in perspective and controlled to some degree.

But for so many of us, fear is a central part of our lives. Instead of ghosts, zombies, or old dolls (uggghh), it's the mundane things we face on a daily basis. Fear of confronting our bosses or family members, of crime, of illness, of disappointment and failure, of our difficulties in paying our next rent bill or loan payment. This type of fear can be crippling and can prevent us from thinking and acting clearly or living full lives.  

Obviously, we don't want to live in constant fear. God doesn't want us to, either. People are often shocked to find out that the most frequent command in the Bible isn't to do with not killing or stealing or committing adultery. It's “Do not be afraid.” Such a simple command, and yet how utterly impracticable it seems to us sometimes. Just one more piece of unrealistic advice from the Bible in our stressful, high-tension world. 

At the heart of the command, though, is God asking one important question:  What is your center? Is it this anxiety, this uncertainty about the future that you're feeling right now? Or is it trying to serve Me and living the best life you can for the benefit of those around you? When we put our own feelings at the center, the fear associated with asking an intimidating boss for a promotion can be debilitating. Putting God at our center, as well as our determination to live the best lives possible, can put this moment in perspective. As real as this fear feels, it's transitory. God is what lasts, and He'll make sure that you're provided for, whether your boss gives you a promotion or kicks you out of his office. Keeping the big picture in mind, that our causes for fear as well as the feelings themselves are temporary, is crucial here. As difficult as this can be, the alternative is allowing fear to put us in a stranglehold to the point where we forget how to live in any other way. 

My intention here hasn't been to downplay anyone's fears or to shame anyone for having them. Fear is a fact of life. But it doesn't have to be the only fact of life. It can be disarmed and shown for what it is. As a product of our minds, fear and its causes can be put into perspective. There is one thing that is certain. There is one Rock. To establish our lives on a foundation of fear is to build on sand and to risk what will happen when the rain falls and the winds blow. To trust in God and in the fact that everything will be all right is to persistently declare in our hearts, “The Lord is with me. What can man do to me?” (Psalm 118:6) Or, for that matter, killer clowns?

Small Acts of Kindness

This afternoon, I was taking a walk around my neighborhood and passed a middle-aged woman struggling with a large filing cabinet. She was attempting to drag it across her driveway to the curb for garbage pick-up. There were already several objects on the sidewalk in front of the house, and I noticed a “For Sale” sign in the yard. Shortly after passing her, I decided to turn back. I excused myself to the woman and asked her if she needed help. She looked relieved and accepted the offer. It took about two minutes to span the driveway and place the cabinet upright on the curb. I then introduced myself. She asked me if I thought she might get in trouble for having too many items on the sidewalk, and explained that she was in the middle of trying to sell the house and move. She was really grateful for my help, since there usually wasn't anyone at the house during the day. I suggested she call the cops to make sure she wouldn't get fined for cluttering the sidewalk, said “You're welcome” and “Have a nice day,” and continued my walk.  

Not a very dramatic or extravagant interaction. The whole thing took about five minutes. Nor is it particularly unusual or praiseworthy for people to have a bit of sympathy for a stranger and help them out. In my life, and especially while traveling, strangers have lent me a hand hundreds of times. Yet as I walked away from the house, I felt a sense of joy for having made a positive impact on someone for at least a few minutes that day. Somehow, that tiny act of kindness and the conversation that proceeded it made today feel worthwhile. I know that it's not as if I rescued someone from a burning building, or talked someone off the ledge of a building. I'm also aware that, for every time I reach out to help, there are probably three or four times when I don't, either out of laziness or out of the belief that it would take up too much of my time (precious time that could be more productively used watching reality TV or catching up on my Netflix queue). 

Toward the end of my walk, I realized why I felt so happy. Those brief moments of both giving and receiving acts of kindness reinforce for me the fact that, though our lifestyles, ethnicities, and religions may be different, we're all stuck in this world together. God made us as social creatures. He intended for us to be in positive relationships with one another rather than isolation. Not just with our family and close friends, or with the people that we encounter on a daily basis, but with everyone whenever possible. It doesn't take much to realize how often we fall short of His will for us. One has only to turn on the news to know that acts of kindness aren't in the agenda for many people in the world, those who care only for themselves and have no intention of allowing God's plan for peace and prosperity to overcome violence and poverty. 

But in the midst of the insistent shout that the world is going to shit, that all is lost, that people are becoming more and more violent and that their hearts have grown cold, these small acts MATTER. Not in spite of the fact that there is evil in the world, not that we should ignore it or sweep it under the rug, but because of it. We are fighting a war against evil, a war whose outcome has already been decided by God. But the victory can be implemented and demonstrated through us, by kindling hope in others, warming hearts, showing people that there is yet good in the world. It is a war of ripples in a pond. Of real lives being changed for the better, bit by bit, through acts of kindness great and small, and of the recipients of that kindness finding a way to pass it on to someone else.

Later in the day, while writing this article, I remembered that I had been told by a neighbor that the woman's husband had recently passed away, and that she was moving because she couldn't afford to live in the house anymore. I found myself hoping that the woman would remember that a stranger had given her a hand, however briefly, in carrying some furniture. Nothing dramatic. Nothing extravagant. But something. 

Homosexuality and the Bible: Three Views

In my last post, I expressed my opposition to the Catholic Church's stance on homosexuality, particularly the pressure it places on gay Christians to forsake romantic companionship. If they want to follow Christ, so Church doctrine claims, they need to live the rest of their lives celibate, barred from experiencing the physical and emotional intimacy that is sanctioned only through marriage. Regardless of whether a gay Christian's orientation is a result of genetics, celibacy is a cross that they must bear. None of the alternatives that involve accepting one's same-sex attractions, including seeking a loving and monogamous relationship, are considered acceptable by the Church. The Catholic catechism claims that its position on homosexuality is based on scripture, millennia of Church tradition, and the anatomical and emotional complementarity of male-female relationships as established by God. 

Of course, these are not the only arguments used against homosexuality, nor are all  arguments explicitly religious in nature. So, for example, you will hear the following comments being bandied about:  homosexuality is against the public good, “gay culture” will corrupt society, homosexual practice is pointless in terms of procreation, gay couples cannot provide adopted children with a well-balanced home life. (Unfortunately, space will not allow me to address any of these statements at this point.) Then, there are the people who simply resort to labeling gays as immoral, disgusting, and sexually deviant. 

Arguments affirming the morality of committed same-sex relationships, particularly in reference to the Bible and the Judaeo-Christian tradition, can be equally polyvalent. As I see it, there are three main ways in which gay advocates interact with the idea that the Bible, and therefore God, stand firmly against homosexuality: 

First, the view taken by many atheists and agnostics is that the Bible is a collection of texts that reflects the primitive cultures of the ancient Near East. Sure, some of the ethical teachings of Jesus are nice, but much of the Bible is violent, antiquated, and sexist. We've progressed morally, culturally, and scientifically since it was written. We've become enlightened. The Bible is therefore unhelpful (harmful, even) as a guide for modern life, and there is no better indication of this fact than the condemnation of homosexual practice found within its pages. 

Second, liberal Jews and Christians might present the idea that, while the Bible was written by godly men attempting to describe God and His interactions with mankind, it is nonetheless the creation of fallible human beings living in particular historical and cultural settings. Any passages against homosexuality in the Old and New Testaments must be seen in context, as a product of the ingrained prejudices of the writers' worldviews rather than inerrant expressions of God's will. For example, while they may appreciate Paul's theology and love for Christ, proponents of this view will chalk up his anti-gay statements to the ancient Jewish context in which he lived. 

Note that both of these views agree with anti-gay Christians in accepting that the Bible roundly condemns all homosexual practice, even when applied to a loving and monogamous relationship. For a long time, I found myself firmly in the realm of the second argument. I didn't think I had any other choice. I believed that the biblical stance on same-sex relationships was clear, right there in the book for anyone to plainly read. But as I began to take the Bible more and more seriously as the Word of God, the less I was satisfied with the concept of looking at it primarily as a work of historical or theological fiction, written by men grappling for God's truth and, more often than not, failing. I came to believe that God was more active in guiding the content of the Bible than the second view would permit. (Though I still struggle with this idea at times, especially when reading Old Testament books like Leviticus and Joshua.)

I know in my heart that God can and does approve of healthy same-sex relationships. And if God was in some way the “author” behind the Bible, there was only one conclusion for me to come to:  Tradition has misinterpreted the verses used to condemn homosexuality. For a few months, I scoured the Internet for any blogs, articles, or books that offered sound ways of interpreting the anti-gay passages (called the “clobber” verses) in a way that excludes loving same-sex relationships from God's condemnation. 

In the next post, I will outline some of the major issues involved and seek to defend homosexuality biblically. This third view, in my opinion, is the best way for believing Jews and Christians to take the Bible seriously while affirming what we know in our hearts to be true:  God does not hate homosexuality. 

Loving the Sinner and Hating the Sin?: Pope Francis's Comments on Homosexuality

To date, my last blog post was the most difficult one for me to write. My original intention had been to publish it shortly before the end of Ramadan so that it would be relevant, but the right words refused to come out (perhaps because the subject matter was so personal). As the days passed and several unsuccessful attempts were made to articulate my thoughts and emotions surrounding Islam and the Night of Destiny, I realized that I would need to be patient until the puzzle pieces of the post fit together.  So by the time it was finished, Ramadan had been over for a few weeks.

The delay in the following post stems from a different reason. There are certain hot-button issues that everyone seems to have a strong opinion about, and discussions of them can get quite contentious and polarizing. Homosexuality, especially in a religious context, is right at the top of that list, so I had some hesitation on writing on the topic. But the Pope's recent comments about homosexuality continue to be raised in conversations I've had with people over the last several weeks. In case anyone needs a reminder, during a press conference in late July Pope Francis made the following statements regarding homosexuals, especially gay priests: “If someone is gay and he searches for the Lord and has goodwill, who am I to judge?” and, “We shouldn't marginalize people for this. They must be integrated into society.” 

Both religious and secular liberals have lauded his statements as a huge step forward for tolerance and an indication that the Catholic Church may come to embrace homosexuality in the future. Some have contrasted Pope Francis with his predecessor, pointing out that Benedict would never have extended such an olive branch to gays. I appreciate that Francis's words have come from a place of great empathy and kindness. Unfortunately, though, upon a brief analysis of doctrine his statements are shown only to be a gentler expression of the essentially anti-gay stance of the Church. Nothing that he said goes against the official Church position on homosexuality as defined in the Catholic catechism, which reads as follows:

“Homosexuality refers to relations between men or between women who experience an exclusive or predominant sexual attraction toward persons of the same sex. It has taken a great variety of forms through the centuries and in different cultures. Its psychological genesis remains largely unexplained. Basing itself on Sacred Scripture, which presents homosexual acts as acts of grave depravity, tradition has always declared that “homosexual acts are intrinsically disordered.” They are contrary to the natural law. They close the sexual act to the gift of life. They do not proceed from a genuine affective and sexual complementarity. Under no circumstances can they be approved. The number of men and women who have deep-seated homosexual tendencies is not negligible. This inclination, which is objectively disordered, constitutes for most of them a trial. They must be accepted with respect, compassion, and sensitivity. Every sign of unjust discrimination in their regard should be avoided. These persons are called to fulfill God's will in their lives and, if they are Christians, to unite to the sacrifice of the Lord's Cross the difficulties they may encounter from their condition. Homosexual persons are called to chastity. By the virtues of self-mastery that teach them inner freedom, at times by the support of disinterested friendship, by prayer and sacramental grace, they can and should gradually and resolutely approach Christian perfection.” (Part 3, Section 2, Chapter 2, Article 6)

The Pope's claim that he will not judge gay priests, his opposition to the marginalization of gays, and his call for them to be integrated into society, are all frustratingly vague. If a journalist attending that press conference had urged him to elaborate further, I have a strong feeling that he would have treaded the party line. Currently, that party line focusses on condemning the “intrinsically disordered,” sinful nature of homosexual acts, while also somehow accepting gays with respect, compassion, and sensitivity despite their “condition.” (The jury is still out on whether this condition is genetic or a sinful choice, apparently.) 

What it comes down to for the Church, to use an expression that I dislike the more I hear it in this context, is loving the sinner and hating the sin. But there is nothing loving about labeling all committed, consensual, same-sex relationships a sinful sham. There is no love in confronting gay Christians with the ultimatum of spending the rest of their lives celibate (or, perhaps, one could try to “pray the gay away”). In the New Testament, celibacy is a high gift from God. It's a choice made by an individual after long periods of prayer and discussions. It's a decision that shouldn't be made lightly. (One can now see that the Pope's comments on gay priests are pretty redundant when viewed in light of the catechism, since all priests, regardless of their orientation, must take vows of chastity.) 

As long as Church doctrine remains as it is, Pope Francis is condemning gay Christians to a life of forced celibacy, shaming them for who they love, telling them that they need to struggle with their “condition” rather than accept that their sexual orientation, as well as their committed and healthy relationships, are from God. True acceptance and integration into society must involve welcoming gays as they are. Not as conflicted and willful individuals rebelling against God's plans for humanity or trying to corrupt Western civilization, but as sinners like you and me trying to find love and companionship in the time they have on this earth. 

I have high hopes for the direction that Pope Francis will lead the Catholic Church in over the coming years. Until he has the courage to press for real change in the Church's stance and treatment of gays, though, his words during the press conference carry little weight. I challenge Pope Francis to show us that his statements on homosexuality are something more than a PR stunt. Francis, open your mind and heart to the possibility that Church tradition has got it wrong regarding LGBT individuals. Search the scriptures. We're waiting. 

"Peace it is till the break of morning": Reflections on Ramadan and the Night of Destiny

Whenever you travel to a foreign country, there are inevitably some cultural differences that take awhile to get used to. It's often the small things that remind you most that you're far from home. To offer a personal example, in Egypt on Fridays and during Ramadan, the sound of the Qur'an being recited is almost ubiquitous. You'll hear it on portable radios as you walk down the street, in taxis, and while shopping at your local supermarket. Competitions for reciting the Qur'an are a common occurrence in mosques and schools there. Having lived in New Jersey for most of my life, where it's difficult to imagine walking around on a Sunday and hearing the Bible or gospel songs everywhere, this aspect of life in Cairo took some time to adjust to.   

Over the year that I lived in Egypt, though, I came to appreciate this difference more and more. At the very least, I began to prefer Qur'an recitation over the muzak and greatest hits of the 90s, 00s, and today that you hear in stores in New Jersey. A few months after I arrived, I began to take lessons in how to recite the Qur'an properly. As I studied, there was one particular surah (one of the 114 chapters in the Qur'an) that I would listen to and recite over and over again. I found the performance of it by my favorite reciter, Sheikh Mishari Rashid al-Afasy, to be remarkably beautiful. It was rare for me to get very emotional about aspects of Islam, but when I would listen to his recording, I was liable to shed some tears. 

We have indeed revealed this Message in the Night of Destiny (or Power).

And what will explain to thee what the Night of Destiny is?

The Night of Destiny is better than a thousand months.

Therein come down the angels and the Spirit by God's permission, on every errand.

Peace it is till the break of the morning. (Surah 97)

The chapter discusses a very important night in the Muslim faith that occurs some time in the last ten days of Ramadan. It is believed that remarkable blessings can be granted to Muslims who spend this night in prayer, contemplation, and acts of kindness. Oddly enough, no one can know for certain which date the Night of Destiny falls on. One of the reasons I loved Ramadan in Egypt was seeing the devoutness and kindness of the people around me during that month. That piety seemed to be magnified on nights that were candidates for being the Night of Destiny. 

I don't think that this was solely a result of Muslims wanting to earn righteousness or a place in Heaven by their works, as some Christians might accuse them of today. Rather, there is a sincere desire among many Muslims to please Allah and lead good lives, and that awareness of this goal shines stronger on these nights than on any other. At the time, I was struggling to maintain my own belief in Islam, so I looked on what I saw as the deep faith of the people around me with something approaching envy. 

More than anything, I wanted a sense of peace in my spiritual life like the one depicted in these verses. Whenever I listened to the chapter, I found myself imagining an empty landscape in the hours before sunrise, with angels descending from Heaven to do the will of God. Quiet. Serene. In the preceding year, my spiritual life had been anything but. I had had so many moral and theological doubts about Islam, questions that deeply unsettled me. It seemed like whenever I had resolved one issue after months of reading and thinking, two others would pop up in its place. I wanted to do what God wanted me to do and believe. I wanted to be able to live out my life with faith in a god and a scripture that I didn't have persistent and seemingly insurmountable objections against. 

No matter how hard I tried, though, I could never find that peace in Islam. So in my last six months living in Egypt, I began to pray for guidance, for God to reveal Himself to me, to help me find out the truth, instead of asking Him to get rid of my doubts. In April of last year, He answered my prayers. Only then did I realize that those rare and faint feelings of God's presence that I found in the piety of Muslims during Ramadan, and in the beauty of some of the Muslim scripture, were a signpost pointing me toward something much greater. Now I know that the emotions that I felt while listening to and reciting the Qur'an were only a pale reflection of the sense of peace that God had always wanted me to find through His Son. 

Until I became Christian, my hours thinking and reading about Christianity and Islam were never easy. They always involved some kind of mental and emotional stress. But, as the Qur'an predicts in some of my favorite verses, “So verily, with every difficulty there is relief. Verily, with every difficulty there is relief.” (94:5-6) It took me several years, but I eventually found that relief in the form of a human being. And his yoke is easy, and his burden light.

Buddy Christ, Violent Revolutionary, and the Many Portraits of Jesus

In the Kevin Smith movie Dogma, a new statue of Jesus, nicknamed “Buddy Christ,” is unveiled as part of an initiative by the Catholic Church to rejuvenate membership and promote a cooler reputation for the Church. A cardinal (played by George Carlin) decides to retire the traditional image of Jesus on the cross and replace it with a smiling Jesus that winks at passersby and gives them a thumbs-up sign. As tempting as it might be to push Dogma aside as the anti-establishment comedic ramblings of Smith, the icon of Buddy Christ alone brings up issues relevant to Christianity, and especially to the discussion of Reza Aslan's depiction of Jesus in his new book. 

If we're not careful, it's easy to form our conclusions about what Jesus and God the Father are like based on our faulty personal preferences. Some of us want a “meek and mild” hippy Jesus, who sings Kumbaya around a campfire and helps old ladies across the street. Others see him simply as an ethics teacher like Socrates or Buddha, whose teachings and actions were over-spiritualized by later generations. I know Christians who think of God the Father almost solely in terms of a wrathful and vengeful being who can't wait to punish those who reject him for eternity. I also know plenty of people who, as CS Lewis noted, want “not so much a father in heaven as a grandfather in heaven,” one whose priority for the universe is to make sure that people have a great time while they're alive. In our quest to form an image of God that we think will benefit us or match our views of reality the most, we tend to ignore or minimize indications of how complex and multi-faceted He is. 

Scholars of the New Testament are no less immune to this than the average believer, in spite of how often many of them will hide behind claims that they are simply evaluating the historical and literary evidence. This is especially true in the three series of attempts in the 19th and 20th centuries to discover the “real” Jesus. Although the Quests for the Historical Jesus consist of the works of dozens of scholars and therefore should not be overly generalized, they seem to speak more to the cultural and academic settings in which those scholars lived than to any sort of pure objectivity (whatever that is). 

Over the last century, portraits of Jesus have depicted him as a Cynic philosopher, social reformer, and Marxist revolutionary fighting on behalf of the Jewish proletariat. As CS Lewis wrote in The Screwtape Letters:   “...all such constructions place the importance of their historical Jesus in some peculiar theory He is supposed to have promulgated. He has to be a ‘great man’ in the modern sense of the word―one standing at the terminus of some centrifugal and unbalanced line of thought.” 

Reza Aslan's construction of Jesus appears to fit Lewis's quote like a glove. In spite of nearly absolute scholarly consensus attesting to Jesus' teachings and practice of non-violence, Aslan depicts him as a political revolutionary against the Roman Empire. As in the gospel of Luke, he cares deeply for the poor, downtrodden, and outcast. Unlike the biblical tradition, however, Aslan's Jesus can be found planning an uprising against Rome on behalf of those people, hating non-Jews, and possessing a fierce desire to behead King Herod. 

Aslan's conclusions are questionable at best. But what unsettles me more is his implication that scholarly research of the New Testament and 1st century history inevitably preclude faith in the Christian God. As he explained to John Oliver:  “I actually converted to evangelical Christianity when I was a kid, and really burned with this Gospel message that I heard, really felt it deep in my life. And then in college, when I began to study the New Testament, I became far more interested in this historical person than I ever was of this kind of celestial Christ that you're referring to.” 

Mainstream skeptical authors like Aslan and Bart Ehrman, writers with large popular followings and bestselling books, have a responsibility to present the possibility that scholars can come to conclusions about history and the Bible that actually support or enrich their belief in Christianity. Popular Christian writers have a similar responsibility. The arguments and issues raised by the other side should not be reacted to aggressively or defensively. They should be engaged with in a rational manner. We should be able to explain why our views of Jesus are nuanced, how they are based on valid interpretations of the New Testament writings, and why it's worthwhile to take the Bible as a reliable source of information about what Jesus was like as a person. In other words, we should be prepared to defend our conviction that the Jesus that walked in Palestine 2,000 years ago is the same as the Christ that watches over us day by day. Jesus was a revolutionary and teacher of ethics. He did care deeply for the poor and outcast. But he was also the Jewish Messiah, the Lord, and my Savior.

Nothing New Under the Sun: Reza Aslan's Quest for the Historical Jesus

I always recommend one book for friends who want some basic information on Islam:  No god but God by Reza Aslan. Out of the many survey books out there on the Muslim faith and Islamic history, it is by far the most balanced, nuanced, and interesting. And at around 260 pages of text, it's a pretty quick read. I'm a big fan of his work on Islam, so I was looking forward to seeing his interview with John Oliver on the Daily Show. When I heard the title of the book, Zealot: The Life and Times of Jesus of Nazareth, I felt a little wary. And throughout the five minute interview, I found myself disagreeing with a lot of his premises and conclusions. By the next day, I had decided to write a blog entry based on his brief conversation with Oliver. And then, the debacle otherwise known as the interview with Fox News host Lauren Green brought Aslan into the spotlight.

 Since the weekend, Aslan has made several media appearances defending his book and speaking about the infamous Fox News interview. For a few days, his face was all over my Facebook feed, with about 20 of my friends sharing the clip of the interview and commenting on its absurdity, as well as linking to articles from liberal outlets like the Huffington Post. Zealot soon rocketed up to a top spot on Amazon's bestseller list. Aslan will clearly come away from this event with a fatter wallet and, I hope, more mainstream attention to the work that he has done on religion (though I suspect he would greatly prefer that attention be drawn to his work on the basis of the quality of his research rather than because of a ridiculous interview). 

 This blog post, however, will not be focussing on his interview with Lauren Green. Her abhorrent anti-Muslim bias is apparent and not worth discussing more than briefly. I only hope that those who take Fox News seriously as a source of information don't see this interview as additional evidence of a creeping “Islamic threat,” now manifested by a scheming Muslim using the facade of scholarship to attack the Christian faith and undermine Western society. But the concept of Fox News questioning the motives and sincerity of Muslims shouldn't shock us. There's nothing new there. 

 Oddly enough considering the hype and controversy surrounding Aslan, though, there's not much new about the main ideas in his book, either. If Green and her staff had done any basic research on the book itself or on the place of Jesus in the Qur'an, they would have realized that the arguments Aslan makes are as distant from the Islamic perspective of Jesus as they are from the Christian. They are in fact much more a reflection of the so-called “Quests for the Historical Jesus” that have been conducted over the last few centuries in Western Europe and the US. All of the following claims he has made in interviews can be found in the works of previous, skeptical Jesus scholarship.  

1.Jesus was a political revolutionary that fought against the Romans on behalf of the poor and downtrodden...and lost. Forget about any notions of atonement or self-sacrifice for our sins.

2.The “Jesus of history” and the “Christ of faith” should not be seen as referring to the same figure. In other words, the man who walked and talked in Palestine two thousand years ago should not be conflated with the theological construct of the “Christ” as depicted in Paul's writings and parts of the gospels. This is standard fare in Jesus studies, as is the idea that Paul of Tarsus was the real founder of Christianity as opposed to Jesus (whatever that means).

3.We have to read between the lines of the New Testament to find the historical Jesus. By no means should the Bible be trusted as reliable information about him, especially when considering his virgin birth in Bethlehem, his miracles, some of the more dramatic healings/resuscitations from the dead, and the resurrection. We need to peel back the layers of theology in the gospels to recover the truth. The writings of Paul, John, and Peter thus have little utility in understanding what Jesus was like. 

4.The gospels are given dates late in the 1st century. Scholars inevitably vary one from another on when they claim Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John were written. Typically, critical scholars will give later dates, while Christian scholars will give earlier. This is often associated with issues of the Bible's reliability, since it would make sense that the more time that passes, the less authentic information there is within the writing. So after a brief discussion of the great impact that the destruction of Jerusalem and its Temple by the Romans in AD 70 had on its Jewish and Christian inhabitants (an absolutely true point), he went on to say that all of the gospels had been written after this event. This is a bit of an older view, but still within the range used by skeptical scholars of the New Testament. 

This blog entry is based on only a few of Aslan's recent interviews. I look forward to reading the whole book. But even from what little I've gathered about it, the Quest for the Historical Jesus looms large overhead. In the next post, I hope to briefly describe a bit more what this Quest consists of and address a few of the problems I have with it, with some help from CS Lewis. 

No Fear in Love: On the wisdom of scaring people into faith

As you could probably guess from my previous post, I felt a large amount of relief when last week's heat wave broke. Part of me wishes that it had lasted a few days more, though, for one reason. Last week, I passed a sign outside of a church in a neighboring town. The sign struck me so strongly with its humor and theological depth that I decided to write a blog post in tribute to it. On Tuesday, I took a trip to the church to take a picture of the sign and was crushed when I saw that it had been replaced by something much more boring (something about putting your trust in God I think). 

Against all hope, I went to the church office and asked about it. The secretary explained to me that I had missed it by a few days and that the sign had been replaced right after the heat wave ended. “That's such a shame,” I said to her, and it was. Now I'll probably never have a picture of a sign saying “You think it's hot here...”, though I'm crossing my fingers that they'll put it up again during the next heat wave. As a silver lining to the story, the secretary told me about a few similar signs that she had seen and enjoyed, including “Dining preference for eternity:  Smoking or Non-Smoking?”.

I did a quick Google images search when I got home and found some other gems:  “I kissed a girl and I liked it. Then I went to Hell”, “There's no AC in Hell either”, and “You may party in Hell, but you'll be the barbeque!” And lastly, a friend offered up her own picture of a sign noteworthy for its practical advice:  “Stop, Drop, and Roll Doesn't Work in Hell.” 

Over the last week, I've been racking my brain trying to think of reasons why churches would think such signs were a good idea. I tried and failed to imagine a scenario in which someone would pass a “Hell sign” and say to themselves, “Wow! Damn that's clever! That humorous pun had a terrifying effect on me. Let me pull my car over right now, go into this church, and give my life to Jesus so I don't have to go to Hell.” Perhaps such a situation has taken place before. But if it has, that person has begun his journey with God because of selfish fear of being punished for eternity. Using fear to draw people in to church, or to convince them to keep attending services, is rarely a good idea for promoting a healthy Christian community, one which truly loves God and neighbor. “Fear-based faith,” as I call it, never seems to last long or be more than skin deep. Our relationships with God should begin, be lived out day by day, and end, in love for Him. We can love Him in part for saving us from punishment in the next life, but our faiths cannot be centered on avoiding personal torment. 

Neither should our evangelism. Persuading people to believe in God by making them scared of Hell is far too popular a strategy. A few days ago, I was listening to a theological debate. The subject was whether, according to the Bible, those who reject God and lead evil lives will be afflicted with eternal conscious torment (as in the image of Hell we have been raised with), or if those people will simply cease to exist. (This is obviously a topic that can't be dealt with now; suffice it to say that I lean toward the latter option.) An argument that came up time and time again from the proponent of the traditional view of Hell was that believing in an afterlife in which the wicked will be annihilated would make it much more difficult to preach the “gospel” to non-believers. “How can we convince people to turn to Christ,” he was basically saying, “unless we scare them into it?” 

But when we look at the writings of the New Testament and the early Church fathers, avoiding Hell was rarely their main emphasis. God was so much more to them than solely a god of wrath and punishment; Jesus was so much more than a way to avoid a terrible fate in the afterlife. This is especially true in the speeches made by Peter and Paul in the book of Acts. To quote a previous blog entry of mine:  “When the apostles preached the Gospel around Palestine and the Roman Empire after Jesus' death, they did so with the strong conviction that the people they were speaking to needed to repent and be saved. But the emphasis of their speeches was the wondrous things that God had done and would do in and through Jesus. They were excited; they couldn't stop talking about Christ. We see the same thing in Paul's letters, where Jesus is continually on Paul's mind and in his heart. The apostles saw in Jesus' life, death, and resurrection all of God's plans coming to fruition.” God's plans for us and for the world. God's love. These should be the reasons we believe.

There are terrible effects in this life and in the next for conducting our lives with hate, violence, and cruelty. I also believe that there are consequences for rejecting God, though I am more than willing to give God the prerogative to know the hearts and intentions of non-Christians and to pass judgment on them as He wills. What it comes down to, though, is this:  We should want to obey God out of love and with the knowledge that He is worthy of our praise, rather than wanting to escape personal punishment; and that our main goal should be eternal life with God rather than the avoidance of Hell. I'll allow the apostle John to have the final word:  “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.” (1 John 4:18)