So basically, the idea so far is that the imperfect aspect of our humanity demands that we are wrong in some area of our theology. The problem is, we don't know what those areas are, and we'll never reach a perfectly tuned theology. I'm assuming that you're with me up to this point, the area in which we might diverge is in how to respond to this quite troubling realization of our fallible humanity. How should we respond?
There are four (probably more) ways to respond to our "theological fallibility"...
1. Uncertainty
2. Humility
3. Openness
4. Conversation
First, let's look at uncertainty. This response is a glass-half-empty, pessimistic theology. Uncertainty avoids making propositional truth claims (especially metanarratives), and can never fully define with certainty the finer (even essential) points of it's theology. Uncertainty doesn't like an ABC ducks-in-a-row theology, and is skeptical of any matter-of-fact theologian. Uncertainty revels in the mystery of God, and doesn't like to put Him in a box, no matter how over-sized. This type of person openly admits to not having everything figured out - and is perfectly content to keep it that way.
I think this response - blanket uncertainty - fails in it's inability to differentiate between black, gray, and white. For example, I KNOW my wife's name is Emily. I KNOW she's 4' 11''. I KNOW she is an interpreter, and I KNOW that she is (at this moment) sleeping soundly in another part of the house. What may not be as tangible is her love for me, respect of me, and loyalty to me. I know these latter things are true, I just know experientially as opposed to intellectually.
What's interesting to me is that the most certain things in life (e.g. that wall is blue) are the most inconsequential. It is the not-as-certain things which carry the most weight (e.g. does my wife really love me?). But I digress, the point is that there are some things which we can be certain about, and then there are other things which require a bit more caution (duh). Thus, blanket uncertainty is like pulling out a rocket launcher during a rubber band fight - slight over-reaction.
~~~
Part Three will take a look at some other ways to respond to this "theological fallibility" dilemma.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Certainly Not: Part One
I would assume, and I think this is a safe assumption, that if you asked a crowd of about 300 people to raise their hand if they thought something they believed was false - no hands would go up. Nobody thinks something they believe is wrong, otherwise - they wouldn't believe it.
However, if you asked that same group of 300 people to raise their hand if they thought they were perfect, again, not a single hand would go up. So, how do we reconcile these two commonly accepted truths, 1) we aren't perfect AND 2) as far as we know, we don't believe anything that is wrong?
The implication is this: Though I can't pinpoint it exactly, my humanity dictates that I must be categorically wrong in some area or another of my theology/belief system.
When I was a data entry clerk, I entered thousands and thousands of keystrokes into a computer. Common sense tells me that, though I didn't know it at the time, I MUST have made a few mistakes while typing. It's like that with our theology. Our humanity guarantees that we've made a mistake, we just don't know where.
Maybe our source was wrong, maybe we aren't coming at it from the right perspective, maybe we've misinterpreted a passage, maybe their is a textual variant, maybe our presuppositions are getting in the way, maybe we're thinking with wrong categories, maybe there is still more information to be discovered, maybe, maybe, maybe. How are we supposed to build a theology on a bunch of "maybes"?
~~~
Part two of this series will look at four possible responses to this dilemma - Uncertainty, Humility, Openness, and Conversation
However, if you asked that same group of 300 people to raise their hand if they thought they were perfect, again, not a single hand would go up. So, how do we reconcile these two commonly accepted truths, 1) we aren't perfect AND 2) as far as we know, we don't believe anything that is wrong?
The implication is this: Though I can't pinpoint it exactly, my humanity dictates that I must be categorically wrong in some area or another of my theology/belief system.
When I was a data entry clerk, I entered thousands and thousands of keystrokes into a computer. Common sense tells me that, though I didn't know it at the time, I MUST have made a few mistakes while typing. It's like that with our theology. Our humanity guarantees that we've made a mistake, we just don't know where.
Maybe our source was wrong, maybe we aren't coming at it from the right perspective, maybe we've misinterpreted a passage, maybe their is a textual variant, maybe our presuppositions are getting in the way, maybe we're thinking with wrong categories, maybe there is still more information to be discovered, maybe, maybe, maybe. How are we supposed to build a theology on a bunch of "maybes"?
~~~
Part two of this series will look at four possible responses to this dilemma - Uncertainty, Humility, Openness, and Conversation
Friday, September 11, 2009
Why Can't We be Friends?
"For in much wisdom is much vexation, and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow."
~ Ecclesiastes 1:18
I think, if we tried, we could learn a thing or two from pain. Maybe, if we viewed heartache, not as an enemy, but as a friend, we might be able to use pain/suffering to our advantage. You see, when pain is viewed as an enemy, it's viewed as something that must be destroyed. The most common response to pain that I hear is explanation. When someone is hurting, we try to offer them information and knowledge, thinking that this will help. We think that if we could just list the top ten reasons why God allows pain and suffering, the pain itself will be destroyed.
It is my belief that knowing the why of suffering does not ease the pain of suffering. When a child experiences pain after touching a hot stovetop, we want to ease their pain (and this is natural). How tragic, however, if all we've learned is how to ease pain, but we still haven't figured out not to touch the hot stovetop. Pain is an indication that something is wrong - so we had better stop trying to ease the pain, and start trying to figure out what went wrong. But don't always expect the pain to go away - it might not, and that's ok - maybe pain can be your tutor, or better yet - your friend.
~ Ecclesiastes 1:18
I think, if we tried, we could learn a thing or two from pain. Maybe, if we viewed heartache, not as an enemy, but as a friend, we might be able to use pain/suffering to our advantage. You see, when pain is viewed as an enemy, it's viewed as something that must be destroyed. The most common response to pain that I hear is explanation. When someone is hurting, we try to offer them information and knowledge, thinking that this will help. We think that if we could just list the top ten reasons why God allows pain and suffering, the pain itself will be destroyed.
It is my belief that knowing the why of suffering does not ease the pain of suffering. When a child experiences pain after touching a hot stovetop, we want to ease their pain (and this is natural). How tragic, however, if all we've learned is how to ease pain, but we still haven't figured out not to touch the hot stovetop. Pain is an indication that something is wrong - so we had better stop trying to ease the pain, and start trying to figure out what went wrong. But don't always expect the pain to go away - it might not, and that's ok - maybe pain can be your tutor, or better yet - your friend.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Trustworthy Gods
A God worthy of complete trust must exhibit three qualities - Truth, Power, and Love.
In a perfect world, a child learns to trust and obey their parents. A parent has power over their child, teaches their child the truth, and shows unconditional love towards their child. It is these three qualities that lead a child to completely entrust their life into the hands of their parents.
However, each of these qualities, on their own, are not a good reason to trust someone. The government has power over a child, but they don't really love the child like a parent does. A school teacher may tell a child the truth, but a teacher has no real disciplinary power over the child. A child's best friend may show unconditional love, but really isn't yet interested in the truth, and has no power over him. Only when these three qualities - Truth, Power, Love - combine do we find it sensible for complete, absolute trust.
Just as a child entrusts their life to a parent, so too we must entrust our soul to God. But, not just any God - only a trustworthy God - a God who is Truthful, Powerful, and Loving. Power alone isn't enough to solicit trust, as even demonic activity can be quite powerful. A miracle alone is a poor reason to trust in something. If Christ had merely performed a few signs and wonders - it would not be enough to garner faith.
If Christ had only been a teacher of great truths, this too would be insufficient. Many different religious systems contain elements of truth about life, and have practical wisdom for it's followers. Just because someone tells you the truth doesn't mean you should trust them with your soul. If they have no power over you, and/or they don't love you - it renders the truth they tell you virtually meaningless - at least as far as your eternity is concerned.
Finally, if Christ had only exhibited a Mother Theresa-ish love, it would not have been enough. Cults are notorious for their relentless, welcoming love of new converts, but cults are decidely lacking in the truth department. In Christ, all three elements merge together, and beckon us to offer Him our trust. He proved His power over creation and death, He taught the truth about Man and God, and He demonstrated ultimate love by taking on the form of a man and allowing Himself to be crucified on a cross. It is for these reasons that I can comfortably trust Him.
In a perfect world, a child learns to trust and obey their parents. A parent has power over their child, teaches their child the truth, and shows unconditional love towards their child. It is these three qualities that lead a child to completely entrust their life into the hands of their parents.
However, each of these qualities, on their own, are not a good reason to trust someone. The government has power over a child, but they don't really love the child like a parent does. A school teacher may tell a child the truth, but a teacher has no real disciplinary power over the child. A child's best friend may show unconditional love, but really isn't yet interested in the truth, and has no power over him. Only when these three qualities - Truth, Power, Love - combine do we find it sensible for complete, absolute trust.
Just as a child entrusts their life to a parent, so too we must entrust our soul to God. But, not just any God - only a trustworthy God - a God who is Truthful, Powerful, and Loving. Power alone isn't enough to solicit trust, as even demonic activity can be quite powerful. A miracle alone is a poor reason to trust in something. If Christ had merely performed a few signs and wonders - it would not be enough to garner faith.
If Christ had only been a teacher of great truths, this too would be insufficient. Many different religious systems contain elements of truth about life, and have practical wisdom for it's followers. Just because someone tells you the truth doesn't mean you should trust them with your soul. If they have no power over you, and/or they don't love you - it renders the truth they tell you virtually meaningless - at least as far as your eternity is concerned.
Finally, if Christ had only exhibited a Mother Theresa-ish love, it would not have been enough. Cults are notorious for their relentless, welcoming love of new converts, but cults are decidely lacking in the truth department. In Christ, all three elements merge together, and beckon us to offer Him our trust. He proved His power over creation and death, He taught the truth about Man and God, and He demonstrated ultimate love by taking on the form of a man and allowing Himself to be crucified on a cross. It is for these reasons that I can comfortably trust Him.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Passing the Baton
I began reading, "The Story of Christianity: Volume 1" today, and was particularly impacted by the following excerpt from the introduction.
Justo Gonzalez comments,
"There are episodes in the course of...history where it is difficult to see the action of the Holy Spirit...it will appear to many of us that the church has forsaken the biblical faith, and some will even doubt that such a church can be truly called "Christian." At such point in our narrative, it may be well to remember two things.
The first of these is that, while this narrative is the history of the deeds of the Spirit, it is the history of those deeds through sinners such as us...
The second is that it has been through those sinners and that church - and only through them - that the biblical message has come to us. Even in the darkest times of the life of the church there were those Christians who loved, studied, kept, and copied the Scriptures, and thus bequeathed them to us." (Page xvi, bold text mine)
I am very humbled at the reminder of the faithfulness of those who, shortcomings aside, so loved the Scriptures that they dedicated their life to passing it on to the next generation. During my brief, yet (and I don't say this arrogantly) significant life, I hope to be counted among those doing the "passing".
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