Monday, October 29, 2018

624 - Sales Pitch


Spirituality Column #624
October 30, 2018
Common Christianity / Uncommon Commentary

Sales Pitch
By Bob Walters

Christians are promised persecution and suffering – the Bible tells me so – yet preachers continually sell Jesus as a real-time antidote to worldly problems.

Let’s discuss that for a couple of minutes.

There are two fairly obvious but not quite opposite ends of the modern American evangelical spectrum at play – commonly, sadly, almost predominantly – that really don’t have much to do with anything the Bible actually says.  On the one hand, it is routinely implied that if you are sitting in church your presence must indicate that your life is a real mess.  Why else would you go to church if not to fix your problems?  And Jesus will fix them, right?

A down-the-road cousin of that doctrine – another wrong shoe on the same false foot – is the prosperity crowd: folks who have been in church for a while and crow about the wonderfulness of their worldly lives since they found Jesus.  They are rich, smart, good looking, and healthy.  You just have to pray right and act right.

In the first case we have Jesus as “Mr. Fix-it”; the identifier of that kind of faith is your necessary misery. In the other, the identifier is the “Blessed!” license plate frame on your Mercedes.  Both are false doctrinal flags of the same skewed orthodoxy: the focus is on the appetite-filled worldly self, not the freeing, forgiving divine Jesus.

Another false yet common ecclesial gambit is the doctrine of “nothing you are doing with your faith is quite right.”  You don’t pray right, you don’t give right, you don’t worship right, you don’t read the Bible right. “You’re a sinner condemned to Hell … and that’s the good news,” my wry preacher friend Shane Fuller likes to say.  There is no comfort to be had in a life of faith in Jesus Christ, because – these preachers constantly declare – there is always something you’re doing wrong.  The identifier here is guilt.

Where we are confused is at the intersection of our worldly wants and our divine needs.  Your life is a mess? Find Jesus!  You want wealth? Find Jesus!  You found Jesus and are happy?  You must be doing something wrong!   Seriously…?

None of these describe my own experience – I hope they don’t describe yours, either – but it’s no surprise that the mysteries of the holy Jesus prompt folks to create hard-edged yet woefully off-base, legalistic interpretations of what we are supposed to do with love, joy, humility, and sacrifice all in the same basket.  “Persecution and hardship” isn’t much of a sales pitch.  A loving God who says you will suffer?  Ick.

“I don’t want that God; that’s not fair! That’s not loving,” the world proclaims.

For me, finding Jesus later in life was like putting on a pair of track shoes.  I had been through plenty: some not as bad as it sounds and some worse than you can imagine.  But it is the eternal trusting in Jesus that allows all the contradictions of this fallen life – past and present – to coalesce into hope for the road ahead; whether in  sickness or health; want or wealth; a mess or blessed.  Heaven is our divine need.

Run life’s race not out of despair, greed, or guilt.  Instead, buy into the steadfast truth of God’s wisdom, righteousness, and compassion.  Suffering in this life is because of a broken world, not a broken God, and Jesus is one salesman you can always trust.

Walters (rlwcom@aol.com) embraces God’s mysteries, not life’s vagaries.

Monday, October 22, 2018

623 - 'O' is (not) for 'You OWE Me'


Spirituality Column #623
October 23, 2018
Common Christianity / Uncommon Commentary

‘O’ is (not) for ‘You OWE Me’
By Bob Walters

“For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith – and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God – not by works, so that no one can boast.” Ephesians 2:8-9

I heard a great line on Moody Radio last week that fueled several thoughts.

Moody Church Pastor Emeritus Erwin Lutzer was preaching on Jesus’s familiar Parable of the Prodigal/Lost Son (Luke 15).  Of the story’s “older” son – the one who complained that he was more deserving and berated his father’s loving, lavish reception celebrating the return of the wandering, “prodigal” younger son – Lutzer noted: “It is possible to be busy in the Father’s work and still not share the Father’s heart.”

All I could think was, “Bing-O!”  The older son was spitefully and self-centeredly insisting that his own non-rebelliousness deserved to be celebrated far more than the return of his sin-laden brother; that his father “owed” him that.  But the older brother’s error here – the “O” in Bing-O, if you will, isn’t so much in what the son felt he was owed; it was the unloving nature of his obedience. God is gracious, yet we keep score.

A couple years ago in the casual spirit of post-church, on-the-way-to-Sunday-lunch chatter among Christian friends with my wife Pam and another, younger couple in the car, the other wife floated the following question as an innocuous conversation starter: “When would you say was the last time you were obedient to God?”

I – I … stammered.  I couldn’t answer, not really.  My wife couldn’t answer, not really.  We stammered some more, looked at each other, and never did come up with anything that we thought was a satisfactory example.  The question wasn’t meant as a legalistic throw-down, one-upmanship, or to hurt anybody’s feelings, but we had nothing approaching a solid answer.

Later, on our own, my wife and I re-visited the question and came to the eye-opening and faith-affirming realization that we never think about “being obedient” in a way that keeps score, makes a list, or, as in the case of the prodigal son’s older brother, builds an account to recite.  We don’t do it with each other, and certainly not with Jesus.

The peril of closely monitored Christian “obedience” is of closely calibrated boasting about it.  Paul says clearly in 1 Corinthians 13 that love doesn’t boast, and it clearly ruins the divine “obedience” mojo if obedience is ever a list instead of love.

Chesterton notes that the hardest thing to explain is something that you believe thoroughly, so I can’t explain obedience.  Lutzer noted in his sermon that our own merit adds nothing to God’s grace, so merit is meaningless.  Paul, in the verse above, covers grace, faith, works, and boasting, so we must never be envious of the Father’s love for our brothers and sisters. God loves us all, deals in grace, and owes no one.

“Prodigal,” interestingly enough, means both “wasteful” and “lavish.”  So despite my sins that waste parts of my life, I also know I have a lavish and “prodigal” Father who doesn’t think I owe Him anything; He is simply yearning to share His infinite love.  So…

Let’s treasure God’s grace as the unfathomable gift it is, share His loving heart, trust the truth of Jesus, rejoice instead of boast, and let “O” be for “O, how wonderful!”

Walters (rlwcom@aol.com) offers these audio links to Lutzer’s Moody Radio broadcasts of Oct. 18-19, 2018 - Lutzer Prodigal 1, Lutzer Prodigal 2. Good stuff.

Monday, October 15, 2018

622 - Fear Itself


Spirituality Column #622
October 16 2018
Common Christianity / Uncommon Commentary

Fear Itself
By Bob Walters

“Perhaps, after all, it is Christianity that is sane and all its critics that are mad.” – G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy

Here is a wonderful Chesterton analogy of Christianity’s unique freedom.

Imagine a rough-and-tumble yet joyous and passionate community of people playing and fighting and creating and worshiping and producing and singing and arguing and learning and laughing and crying and agreeing and disagreeing.  The image of an elementary school playground at recess comes to mind.

Now, put that community of all ages on a tall, tall butte or mesa – a plateau – with fathomless, deadly, clouds-in-the-depths cliffs on all sides.  Surrounding the top rim of the plateau is a sturdy, reliable, and utterly safe wall that provides a divine and unwavering boundary for the rough-and-tumble proceedings of the population within.

The community is humanity, and the protective wall is the truth of Jesus Christ.  In this scenario, everybody understands the wall is there, even those who don’t dwell on the philosophy, theology, or penalty of the cliffs just beyond.  So regardless of what anyone thinks (or doesn’t think) about the wall and the deadly “other side,” the faithful community thrives joyously, hopefully, and safely with great comfort and trust in the truth of the protection of that wall.  Life is routinely raucous and messy, but eternally safe because the wall shelters all from the death of the unknown depths.  The boundary accommodates the wise, fools, and contradictions.  It forbids wars, and produces wars.

Chesterton then describes a second scenario, the same plateau but without the wall.  Instead of protection and freedom within its boundaries, the deadly maw of certain death surrounds all who might press the boundaries of a world where the truth of Christ – i.e., the saving wall – does not exist.  Now, the once-lively rough-and-tumble of freedom within the boundaries becomes the deathly pall of fear and sullen terror of the abyss.  Instead of love, industry, play, passion, freedom, and bouncing-off-the-wall life within the boundaries, the fear-stricken population – horrified of the unknown and in the absence of truth – huddles timidly in the middle of the plateau.

No one dares to venture out; fear has overcome freedom.  Instead of everyone knowing they are guarded by the wall of God’s merciful, eternal love through Jesus Christ, they become impotent victims of maniacal dread.  The immutable wall of divine truth is replaced by the capricious opinions and vagaries of the worldly unrighteous.

Written more than 100 years ago, Chesterton’s Orthodoxy explains why he personally was compelled to believe Christianity as humanity’s unique and supreme saving grace.  He notes the many, many differing faces of human morality and industry, but also notes the broad accommodation of Christian expression within the boundaries of Christian truth, from the holy silence of monks to the strident voices of martyrs.

Freedom is having barriers we trust, and playing wildly within them.  Life won’t always look the same, but Christ provides sane truth toward which we can always look.

Walters (rlwcom@aol.com) sorts out politics by discerning which leaders value the wall (the power of freedom) and which ridicule God’s safety net (the power of fear).

Monday, October 8, 2018

621 - That's the Spirit


Spirituality Column #621
October 9, 2018
Common Christianity / Uncommon Commentary

That’s the Spirit
By Bob Walters

“…no one knows the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God.” 1 Corinthians 2:11

Sitting in a college calculus class back in the mid-1970s I frequently endured stultifying mystery trying to ingest and comprehend the thoughts of the professor.

I thoroughly trusted he knew what he was doing and I got the basics of what calculus was supposed to do mathematically – measure and predict the variations of angles on curves (as I recall).  But I was more entertained than enlightened watching the formulations progress in dusty white chalk on the old slate blackboard, and let’s just say the spirit of calculus never visited my inmost being.   I escaped with a C and resumed focus on my journalism major.  Words, not numbers, were to be my life.

Faith-wise I went decades having some idea of what the Holy Spirit was supposed to be and do – it is part of the trinity and communicates Godly ideas – without my ever ingesting or comprehending its actual cosmic, life application.  In the calculus class I saw other students “get it” (calculus) and thrive, and I figured it was just fine if I left calculus to them.  I didn’t doubt calculus or think it wasn’t “real” – I wasn’t mad at it – I just never figured I personally would need or understand it.  Ditto the Holy Spirit.

I had friends who became engineers, doctors, and math teachers, and friends who became ministers and (or already were) devout Christians.  I charged ahead with a very fun sports writing, sports public relations, and corporate communications career.  “Each to his own,” I figured.  I rarely gave calculus or the Holy Spirit a thought.

Having grown up in a traditional Episcopal Church – an altar boy, no less – I retained only a patina of spiritual, Jesus, and Godly inquisitiveness after I stopped attending church in my teen years.  As an adult I’d occasionally see TV preachers who, like my old calculus professor, were interesting to watch and listen to despite my lack of understanding or aptitude.  I even picked up a Bible a few times – when I could find one – but it was as opaque an undertaking as reading a math book.  Having lived sans scriptura that long … why bother?

But with no disrespect to that knowledgeable calculus professor or those (mostly) sincere TV preachers, I surprisingly encountered a super-teacher in my mid-40s who was so slick I didn’t even realize education was happening until I picked up a Bible late in 2001 and suddenly its ancient words were making profound, life-changing sense.

Some time after that – time of study, prayer, learning, and growth – I knew I had encountered the Holy Spirit who I am convinced was lurking in wait for the right time, place, and circumstance to spring Jesus on me. What happened?  My then-teenaged son I love wanted to go to church so I went with him.  The Holy Spirit had me at “hello.”

God is the Father and Jesus is the Light, but it is the Holy Spirit who teaches our hearts and minds to discern the otherwise unimaginable wisdom and power of God. As Jesus said, “He will take the things of mine and show them to you,” (John 16:14).

And so He did, and so He will.  Such is the loving calculus of eternal life.

Walters (rlwcom@aol.com) reports that the definition of “Calculus” at MIT’s website begins: “Calculus is the study of how things change.” How perfect is that?

Monday, October 1, 2018

620 - Freedom and Responsibility

Spirituality Column #620
October 2, 2018
Common Christianity / Uncommon Commentary

Freedom and Responsibility
By Bob Walters

“It is the nature of love to bind itself.” G.K. Chesterton, The Defendant

I’m pretty sure the very epitome of freedom has far less to do with what we are free from than what we have chosen to be responsible to.

This freedom – or lack of it – is what shapes our attitudes and faith: the freedom to bind ourselves to that which we think, feel, and experience as life’s ultimate purpose, joy, and worth.  It is within these boundaries that we will explore, find, experience, and share love; it is within these boundaries that we will discover Jesus Christ.

Outside these boundaries?  Satan and the world await.

Chesterton, the great 20th century Christian apologist and forerunner of C.S. Lewis, wrote often about how love, freedom, “binding,” and Jesus Christ form an inseparable equation of humanity’s best formula for glorifying God and discovering life’s most profound, shared human joys – the love, hope, forgiveness, and salvation of Jesus Christ.  And we note that Chesterton wasn’t talking about the “binding and loosing” of things on heaven and earth the way we often think of it as written in Matthew 16:18-19.

No, Chesterton was talking about the responsibility we undertake as humans to form relationships, help our fellow man, raise our children, worship our God, run our affairs, govern our nation, organize our communities, and recognize right and wrong in light of personal and sacrificial God-honoring love.  Not every culture, government, political persuasion, or religion in history (or today) has considered these to be essential and divine elements of human endeavor.  While kings, emperors, dictators, and despots separate mankind from this freedom, Jesus insists on it and America was founded on it.

It’s far more than mere “freedom of religion” that defines the great American “We the People” experiment in self-determination and societal mobility.  Despite grave religious and specifically Christian doctrinal disputes of that era, the early American, Enlightenment-era thinkers considered and penned our formative documents based on the moral assurance of God’s existence and mankind’s moral obligations to Him and to other humans.  This was preponderantly true even among the agnostics and deists.

What Jesus brings to the freedom equation is that He knows God’s true, divine love energizes the human heart only when fueled by free will.  These weld the Godly clasp that freely binds us to goodness, mercy, hope, and heaven; not the foul shackles that condemn us to earthly misery, dissension, despair, debauchery, and death.

It is our binding with Jesus we should treasure for ourselves, teach to our children, and share with our neighbor; for Satan is the author of the other.  The evil world – especially today in a million media, academic, and political ways – insists we must intellectually and behaviorally be chained to its popular but unholy norms.

No, our responsibility and joy is to be bound in freedom with Christ.  It makes a world of difference, and is the only thing that will make a difference in the world.

Walters (rlwcom@aol.com) adds: “It is absurd to say that you are especially advancing freedom when you only use free thought to destroy free will.” - Chesterton

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