Significant sections of the UK population think we should bring back the death penalty - at least for cases like the Soham murderer Ian Huntley. Huntley molested and killed two innocent young girls - surely it's obvious that he deserves to die. The only reason in most people's minds for keeping him alive is that death is too easy a way out - perhaps better that he should stay alive and be made to suffer.
I can see the logic - and feel the emotional power - of such thinking. The only problem is that it overlooks some vital realities, particularly for Christians.
One - people like Huntley are unfortunately still people; they are still human beings. We desperately don't want them to see them as human, as being in any way like us - so we label them as Evil, as Monsters; we try and convince ourselves that we have nothing in common with them. Indeed, we eagerly place on them all the evil that we can't bear to face in ourselves, and hurl at them all the loathing and disgust we feel for those unacceptable, shameful parts of our own natures. But in so doing we do not stop them from being human; we merely become less human, less real ourselves.
Two - all people, however far they have fallen, are at least potentially redeemable. It's not for us to decide who can and who can't qualify for ultimate mercy. For our own sakes we dare not deny even the worst criminal the right to genuinely repent and reform.
Three - we who set ourselves up to judge may not be killers or sex offenders, but we still might not look too good under close scrutiny. I know I don't have the right to throw stones at anyone, even at Huntley, and I suspect you don't either.
Four - none of us have the right to wield the power of life or death over another. As soon as we claim that right, we are in grave danger of abusing it.
Five - killing Huntley will achieve nothing. It will not hurt Huntley himself for more than the briefest period. It will not bring back the girls he killed, nor heal the wounds of what he did. It will not bring redemption or hope to anyone. All it will do is dehumanise the ones who kill him, and perhaps conversely re-humanise Huntley himself - as Saddam Hussein became for many a figure of sympathy in light of his humiliating execution.
Finally, though we may be clear in Huntley's case that he is guilty, in many other cases it's much harder to be certain. Miscarriages of justice and subsequent reprieves are commonplace.
The Bible and capital punishment
Those who seek support for the death penalty in the Bible are on shaky ground. The Old Testament law of Moses did of course prescribe the death penalty for certain offences, though we wouldn't recognise many of these as crimes today - Sabbath-breaking for example. But in fact the death penalty was not often enforced, and the Bible only records a handful of cases when it was - mainly for religious offences.
When we come to the New Testament, all the examples of capital punishment are either miscarriages of justice or abuses of power - John the Baptist beheaded by Herod for example. Neither Jesus nor the apostles ever prescribe the death penalty (leaving aside the highly unusual case of Ananias and Sapphira).
When Jesus himself was presented with a woman caught in adultery, for which the law of Moses required that she be stoned to death, his judgement was 'let him who is without sin cast the first stone'. When all the woman's accusers had duly slunk away, Jesus, who alone was without sin and so did have the right to condemn her, turned to the woman and said, 'neither do I condemn you'. I would say that makes the Christian attitude to the death penalty fairly clear.
But the most compelling argument for me is Jesus' own bearing of the death penalty, in the ultimate miscarriage of justice in all human history. Christians believe he bore it for all of us, on behalf of all of us, and in place of all of us. In so doing, I also believe he completely fulfilled and utterly abolished the death penalty for all time.
In one sense, we are all of us under sentence of death, and none of us knows when our time will come. How will any of us face that moment, and when it comes will it feel like a penalty or a reward?
Tuesday, 23 March 2010
Friday, 19 March 2010
Is God in the future?
Yesterday I received a daily devotional email from the Purpose Driven Life (TM) with the following lines from Rick Warren:
I would now hastily make these provisos:
1. God can of course state for definite that certain chosen things will happen in the future, for if he has determined that they will happen then no-one has the power to prevent them - unless he should decide to allow them that power. So God could decide that the world will end tomorrow and no-one would be able to stop him.
2. God has all knowledge and all wisdom, and can project and predict all the possible paths and trajectories of every past and present event, action or choice - indeed the course of every sub-atomic particle - as well as their relative probabilities. So he does indeed know all the potential futures as far as they can be known.
3. Following from this, he can of course also steer, shape and influence events and their paths to achieve his purposes. However, I believe that as a general rule he does so in such as way as not to violate the free will and choice of his morally responsible creatures.
4. Finally, much of the future is merely a continuation or repetition of the past. We can all predict certain cyclical aspects of the future - day will follow night, spring will follow winter, adulthood will follow childhood. We can also use the law of cause and effect: current actions will have future consequences, many of which are predictable. And other things simply remain fixed and unchanged for what we term the 'foreseeable future' - e.g. the summit of Everest will almost definitely still be the highest point on the Earth's surface for many years to come.
Of course there are examples in the Bible where God does foretell future events - but these can usually be explained by one of the above provisos. Even Jesus knowing that Peter would deny him three times before the cock crowed could be God fully knowing the characters, behaviours and habits of all the players in the story (point 2 above) - or it could be something that God determined to happen for some reason (point 1 or 3).
I do not see that an inability to dwell in the future diminishes God's greatness or sovereignty any more than it does that he cannot make a square circle or cannot make 1 = 0. If the future genuinely does not exist except in potential until it ceases to be the future by becoming the present, I would say that it is neither possible nor meaningful for God to dwell in it, visit it or fully know it.
Theologians talk of God being 'outside time', which I accept to an extent (and he is also within time). But the time God is outside (and in) is real, actual time, not merely potential time. God can be in and around all real, existing times and spaces, but I do not believe the future fits in this category.
But as usual, I'm very likely to be wrong and God probably knows I'll change my mind in the future... ;-)
"The Bible says, even before you were born, God knew all of your future. This means God sees your tomorrow, today. He already sees the things you'll face... God not only knows about the future, He's there in the future."I realise I'm stepping incautiously out into major heresy here, but I really don't see how it's meaningfully possible for God to be in the future. I'm not convinced that the future has any fixed and objective reality of the sort that anyone - even God - can possibly inhabit, visit or even view.
I would now hastily make these provisos:
1. God can of course state for definite that certain chosen things will happen in the future, for if he has determined that they will happen then no-one has the power to prevent them - unless he should decide to allow them that power. So God could decide that the world will end tomorrow and no-one would be able to stop him.
2. God has all knowledge and all wisdom, and can project and predict all the possible paths and trajectories of every past and present event, action or choice - indeed the course of every sub-atomic particle - as well as their relative probabilities. So he does indeed know all the potential futures as far as they can be known.
3. Following from this, he can of course also steer, shape and influence events and their paths to achieve his purposes. However, I believe that as a general rule he does so in such as way as not to violate the free will and choice of his morally responsible creatures.
4. Finally, much of the future is merely a continuation or repetition of the past. We can all predict certain cyclical aspects of the future - day will follow night, spring will follow winter, adulthood will follow childhood. We can also use the law of cause and effect: current actions will have future consequences, many of which are predictable. And other things simply remain fixed and unchanged for what we term the 'foreseeable future' - e.g. the summit of Everest will almost definitely still be the highest point on the Earth's surface for many years to come.
Of course there are examples in the Bible where God does foretell future events - but these can usually be explained by one of the above provisos. Even Jesus knowing that Peter would deny him three times before the cock crowed could be God fully knowing the characters, behaviours and habits of all the players in the story (point 2 above) - or it could be something that God determined to happen for some reason (point 1 or 3).
I do not see that an inability to dwell in the future diminishes God's greatness or sovereignty any more than it does that he cannot make a square circle or cannot make 1 = 0. If the future genuinely does not exist except in potential until it ceases to be the future by becoming the present, I would say that it is neither possible nor meaningful for God to dwell in it, visit it or fully know it.
Theologians talk of God being 'outside time', which I accept to an extent (and he is also within time). But the time God is outside (and in) is real, actual time, not merely potential time. God can be in and around all real, existing times and spaces, but I do not believe the future fits in this category.
But as usual, I'm very likely to be wrong and God probably knows I'll change my mind in the future... ;-)
Walking in darkness - reflections on Holy Saturday
I know it's not quite Easter yet, but I like to be ahead of things occasionally.
Holy Saturday - the day between Good Friday and Easter Sunday - is perhaps one of the most neglected days in the Christian calendar, which is strangely appropriate given what it represents - a gap or a void rather than anything positive. It is a troubling, confusing day, one which hardly seems part of the Christian experience at all and which therefore struggles to be represented in the church year. Yet I believe we need to rediscover it, to walk through it on our route to Easter.
Holy Saturday is a day of waiting, a day of darkness; a day of grief, doubt, disappointment and shattered dreams; even of despair. It is the day for all those struggling with loss, bereavement, uncertainty, chaos, chronic depression or other forms of inner darkness. It is a lightless day when the Sun refuses to rise - it is the Long Dark Night of the Soul; the Valley of the Shadow of Death. It is a day in which there seems to be no end in sight, no light at the end of the tunnel; a day when all the former certainties and supports on which life and faith were based have been snatched away. It is a day which for some - even some Christians - can last for months, even years. It is a day in which hope seems dead and God distant, absent or worse still an enemy.
The writer of Psalm 88, the bleakest and most desperate psalm, knew well this experience:
To those who have been in the dark for as long as they can remember, the hope of Easter may seem a distant, even a false and mocking one. Yet it is a certain, unshakeable truth that for all who cling to Jesus, the tomb of death will one day become the womb of new life; however long delayed, day will follow night. Then truly those who walk in darkness will see a great light; on those who live in the land of the shadow of death will the light shine.
I pray that for all who today stumble in the dark of Holy Saturday, the light of Easter will soon rise.
Holy Saturday - the day between Good Friday and Easter Sunday - is perhaps one of the most neglected days in the Christian calendar, which is strangely appropriate given what it represents - a gap or a void rather than anything positive. It is a troubling, confusing day, one which hardly seems part of the Christian experience at all and which therefore struggles to be represented in the church year. Yet I believe we need to rediscover it, to walk through it on our route to Easter.
Holy Saturday is a day of waiting, a day of darkness; a day of grief, doubt, disappointment and shattered dreams; even of despair. It is the day for all those struggling with loss, bereavement, uncertainty, chaos, chronic depression or other forms of inner darkness. It is a lightless day when the Sun refuses to rise - it is the Long Dark Night of the Soul; the Valley of the Shadow of Death. It is a day in which there seems to be no end in sight, no light at the end of the tunnel; a day when all the former certainties and supports on which life and faith were based have been snatched away. It is a day which for some - even some Christians - can last for months, even years. It is a day in which hope seems dead and God distant, absent or worse still an enemy.
The writer of Psalm 88, the bleakest and most desperate psalm, knew well this experience:
"You have put me in the lowest pit, in the darkest depths...
...my eyes are dim with grief... Why, O Lord, do you reject me and hide your face from me?
...You have taken my companions and loved ones from me; the darkness is my closest friend."Holy Saturday does not chime with our expectations of the victorious, joyous Christian life. Yet it is a valid - perhaps a vital - part of the Christian experience, and one that most of us will face at some time. We need to stand with our brothers and sisters who are going through this Holy Saturday experience; for Christ's sake we dare not shun them, blame them, tell them to pull themselves together, or insist that they should be happy in Jesus. Christ too has walked in the darkness and dread of Gethsemane and Good Friday; has waited in the tomb of Holy Saturday.
To those who have been in the dark for as long as they can remember, the hope of Easter may seem a distant, even a false and mocking one. Yet it is a certain, unshakeable truth that for all who cling to Jesus, the tomb of death will one day become the womb of new life; however long delayed, day will follow night. Then truly those who walk in darkness will see a great light; on those who live in the land of the shadow of death will the light shine.
I pray that for all who today stumble in the dark of Holy Saturday, the light of Easter will soon rise.
Thursday, 18 March 2010
Stages of faith
Faith - like life - is a journey of growth, development, becoming. There are a number of clearly discernible phases or stages to the faith journey which mirror the stages of human psychological development from infant to adult. I think this is a really important subject because so many intra / interdenominational battles and misunderstandings stem merely from people being on different stages of their journeys.
Actually, it doesn't have to be faith - these stages can apply to any ideology or worldview, including atheism. Whole countries and cultures can also exhibit these stages - for example, a revolutionary culture is at 'stage 3' as described below.
Again, this is sadly not my idea - I think M. Scott Peck came up with it, but I like reinventing the wheel - it lets me think things out for myself. So where my version differs from his, I'm sure his is right.
Stage 1 - blissful/chaotic
This equates to the baby/infant stage of development. In faith terms, this is the 'childlike' new convert - often full of blissful excitement and joy (and occasionally deep despair), and with tremendous faith, but with little understanding and responsibility and few limits. In terms of faith streams, this seems to relate most closely to the charismatic/pentecostal. In butterfly life-cycle terms, this is the newly-emerged caterpillar.
Stage 2 - fundamentalist
This equates to the toddler/child stage of development. At this stage there is a need for strict limits and consequences, and a strong sense of binaries of right/wrong, true/false, in/out, us/them, black/white. The fundamentalist stage is characterised by a degree of rigidity, dogmatism, legalism, exclusivity and literal-mindedness.
In terms of faith streams, this stage often goes with - but is not limited to - evangelicalism, particularly the more extreme end. In butterfly terms, this is the confining pupa/chrysalis. It's a vital if not always appealing stage of development, and those who are going through it deserve more tolerance than they often receive (or give).
It's worth noting that it's perfectly possible to be a fundamentalist atheist. It's also possible to be a mild and fluffy fundy - not all who hold strong and strict beliefs are intolerant bigots by any means.
Stage 3 - rebellious
This equates to the adolescent/teenage stage of development, where there is a need to rebel, to break free, to question and challenge all the rules, beliefs and authorities that were previously accepted on trust. This stage can be characterised by tremendous idealism but also violent iconoclasm, sometimes with a total rejection of earlier beliefs. People entering this phase can behave like new (anti-)converts, zealously opposing the faith they previously held. Often the stricter and more rigid the preceding fundamentalism, the stronger the rebellion against it - those whose 'stage 2' was milder and more open are less likely to turn their backs on it so violently.
In faith streams, this stage probably relates most closely to the activist / social justice stream. It also often relates to the liberal end of the fundamentalist/liberal polarity, in stark contrast to stage 2. In butterfly terms, this is the breaking out from the pupa.
Stage 4 - settled sceptic
This equates to the emerging adult phase, where rebellious adolescent idealisms gradually give way to a more reasonable, settled scepticism. At this stage there may be a gradual return of faith for those who have lost it, but it will usually be to a steadier, more rational and tolerant kind of faith.
This stage may relate to the milder, more moderate forms of evangelicalism and sacramentalism. In the butterfly life-cycle, this is the period of resting and drying of wings before taking flight.
Stage 5 - mature mystic/contemplative
This is the stage of mature adulthood, and in faith terms it is marked by a deepening of faith but often in a more open and mystical, less dogmatic and doctrinal form, less wedded to certainties and correct interpretations. In some ways it can look a little like the unboundaried childish faith of stage 1, but now it is because the boundaries have been fully internalised and can now be transcended. This is the butterfly taking flight.
The transition to stage 5 is, I think, often marked by the 'long dark night of the soul' experience, a period of darkness, doubt, discontent, even near despair before the dawn of a new and deeper faith.
People in stages 1 and 2 are apt to think that those in stages 3 and 4 have lost or compromised their faith. Though this may be true, in most cases they are simply at a different stage of the faith journey.
A few more points about the 'stages'. Firstly, it's quite common to miss out stages in development, though I think it's preferable to go through all the stages. It's also quite possible to remain stuck in a stage for many years or even the whole of life. Secondly, we can actually be in different stages at the same time but in different areas of our life - so I may be in stage 2 in my attitudes to sexual morality, at stage 3 in my prayer life, and stage 4 in my attitude to money. Thirdly, we may need to repeat some or all of the earlier stages again later. It's quite possible to slip back from stage 5 to stage 4 or even 2, and then have to go through part of the process again.
And finally, development never ends in this life.
Actually, it doesn't have to be faith - these stages can apply to any ideology or worldview, including atheism. Whole countries and cultures can also exhibit these stages - for example, a revolutionary culture is at 'stage 3' as described below.
Again, this is sadly not my idea - I think M. Scott Peck came up with it, but I like reinventing the wheel - it lets me think things out for myself. So where my version differs from his, I'm sure his is right.
Stage 1 - blissful/chaotic
This equates to the baby/infant stage of development. In faith terms, this is the 'childlike' new convert - often full of blissful excitement and joy (and occasionally deep despair), and with tremendous faith, but with little understanding and responsibility and few limits. In terms of faith streams, this seems to relate most closely to the charismatic/pentecostal. In butterfly life-cycle terms, this is the newly-emerged caterpillar.
Stage 2 - fundamentalist
This equates to the toddler/child stage of development. At this stage there is a need for strict limits and consequences, and a strong sense of binaries of right/wrong, true/false, in/out, us/them, black/white. The fundamentalist stage is characterised by a degree of rigidity, dogmatism, legalism, exclusivity and literal-mindedness.
In terms of faith streams, this stage often goes with - but is not limited to - evangelicalism, particularly the more extreme end. In butterfly terms, this is the confining pupa/chrysalis. It's a vital if not always appealing stage of development, and those who are going through it deserve more tolerance than they often receive (or give).
It's worth noting that it's perfectly possible to be a fundamentalist atheist. It's also possible to be a mild and fluffy fundy - not all who hold strong and strict beliefs are intolerant bigots by any means.
Stage 3 - rebellious
This equates to the adolescent/teenage stage of development, where there is a need to rebel, to break free, to question and challenge all the rules, beliefs and authorities that were previously accepted on trust. This stage can be characterised by tremendous idealism but also violent iconoclasm, sometimes with a total rejection of earlier beliefs. People entering this phase can behave like new (anti-)converts, zealously opposing the faith they previously held. Often the stricter and more rigid the preceding fundamentalism, the stronger the rebellion against it - those whose 'stage 2' was milder and more open are less likely to turn their backs on it so violently.
In faith streams, this stage probably relates most closely to the activist / social justice stream. It also often relates to the liberal end of the fundamentalist/liberal polarity, in stark contrast to stage 2. In butterfly terms, this is the breaking out from the pupa.
Stage 4 - settled sceptic
This equates to the emerging adult phase, where rebellious adolescent idealisms gradually give way to a more reasonable, settled scepticism. At this stage there may be a gradual return of faith for those who have lost it, but it will usually be to a steadier, more rational and tolerant kind of faith.
This stage may relate to the milder, more moderate forms of evangelicalism and sacramentalism. In the butterfly life-cycle, this is the period of resting and drying of wings before taking flight.
Stage 5 - mature mystic/contemplative
This is the stage of mature adulthood, and in faith terms it is marked by a deepening of faith but often in a more open and mystical, less dogmatic and doctrinal form, less wedded to certainties and correct interpretations. In some ways it can look a little like the unboundaried childish faith of stage 1, but now it is because the boundaries have been fully internalised and can now be transcended. This is the butterfly taking flight.
The transition to stage 5 is, I think, often marked by the 'long dark night of the soul' experience, a period of darkness, doubt, discontent, even near despair before the dawn of a new and deeper faith.
People in stages 1 and 2 are apt to think that those in stages 3 and 4 have lost or compromised their faith. Though this may be true, in most cases they are simply at a different stage of the faith journey.
A few more points about the 'stages'. Firstly, it's quite common to miss out stages in development, though I think it's preferable to go through all the stages. It's also quite possible to remain stuck in a stage for many years or even the whole of life. Secondly, we can actually be in different stages at the same time but in different areas of our life - so I may be in stage 2 in my attitudes to sexual morality, at stage 3 in my prayer life, and stage 4 in my attitude to money. Thirdly, we may need to repeat some or all of the earlier stages again later. It's quite possible to slip back from stage 5 to stage 4 or even 2, and then have to go through part of the process again.
And finally, development never ends in this life.
Tuesday, 16 March 2010
Streams of faith
I'm writing here about the Christian faith because that's my experience, but it may well apply to other faiths too.
There are a number of 'streams', pathways or expressions of faith within the Christian tradition, and each of these has a valuable contribution to make to the whole. (I believe Richard Foster's Streams of Living Water covers this subject really well, but as it's a bit chunky and I'm a bit lazy, I've not got round to reading it. :-)
I think Foster identifies others; and I've included creative/poetic within the contemplative stream but some would see it as separate.
Each stream or pathway has something good to contribute to the whole; each also has its weaknesses and dangers, particularly in over-emphasising its own focuses to the exclusion of the others.
The streams are - can and should be - complementary, not mutually exclusive. They also often overlap - it's perfectly possible to be a charismatic evangelical, a sacramental contemplative or an evangelical activist. (It's more difficult to be a sacramental evangelical or a contemplative activist, but maybe not impossible.)
Similarly, some of the streams tend to be particularly associated with certain church denominations - e.g. Baptists tend to be evangelical, Orthodox and Catholics to be sacramental; pentecostals tend to have their own groupings like the Assemblies of God.
It's easy to look on people from a different stream as odd, or plain wrong. It would be great if we could instead see them as different in a good way, offering us fresh approaches and insights into our shared faith.
Extreme liberalism in contrast is so broad and inclusive that it often loses any distinctive Christian character; often there is very little doctrine and little or no belief in God, the supernatural, miracles or the divine inspiration of the Bible.
Another polarity is that between logical/rational and emotional/intuitive/symbolic - basically left and right brain. Again, evangelicalism usually tends towards the rational end; contemplative and sacramental streams towards the intuitive/symbolic.
I susect then that people often gravitate towards a particular stream of faith (and therefore to a particular denomination) mainly because of their own personality type, and also upbringing. And also perhaps to do with what stage they are at on their faith journey, which I'll look at in my next post...
There are a number of 'streams', pathways or expressions of faith within the Christian tradition, and each of these has a valuable contribution to make to the whole. (I believe Richard Foster's Streams of Living Water covers this subject really well, but as it's a bit chunky and I'm a bit lazy, I've not got round to reading it. :-)
Stream | Key part of human being | Key part of Bible | Emphases / focuses |
|---|---|---|---|
| Contemplative/ mystical | Soul/spirit, heart; (emotions) | John's gospel/letters; mystical prophets (Ezekiel) | 'Prayer of the heart'; finding God in stillness, silence, solitude and in nature, art, music; meditation, contemplation of the divine; creativity/poetry |
| Charismatic/ pentecostal | Emotions (joy), spirit | Acts; miraculous elements in gospels / Old Testament | Being filled with the Holy Spirit; manifestations/gifts of the Spirit - prophecy, tongues, healing etc; power, miracles, signs and wonders; spiritual warfare and deliverance |
| Sacramental/ ceremonial | Body - senses; soul | O.T. ceremonies (Exodus, Kings) | Tradition, ritual, liturgy, ceremony, order, sacrament, iconography, hierarchy, saints |
| Evangelical | Mind, will | Whole Bible; Paul's letters | 'Sola Scriptura', Bible as all-sufficient Word of God; 'correct' doctrine/theology (e.g. of atonement); need for personal salvation through faith in Christ; discipleship and personal morality; importance of preaching, teaching and missionary work (evangelism) |
| Activist / social justice | Emotions - compassion; Body - action | Luke's gospel; Matthew 25; prophets of justice (Amos, Isaiah) | 'Social' gospel - justice for poor, liberation for oppressed, care for environment; political activism, usually left-wing |
I think Foster identifies others; and I've included creative/poetic within the contemplative stream but some would see it as separate.
Each stream or pathway has something good to contribute to the whole; each also has its weaknesses and dangers, particularly in over-emphasising its own focuses to the exclusion of the others.
The streams are - can and should be - complementary, not mutually exclusive. They also often overlap - it's perfectly possible to be a charismatic evangelical, a sacramental contemplative or an evangelical activist. (It's more difficult to be a sacramental evangelical or a contemplative activist, but maybe not impossible.)
Similarly, some of the streams tend to be particularly associated with certain church denominations - e.g. Baptists tend to be evangelical, Orthodox and Catholics to be sacramental; pentecostals tend to have their own groupings like the Assemblies of God.
It's easy to look on people from a different stream as odd, or plain wrong. It would be great if we could instead see them as different in a good way, offering us fresh approaches and insights into our shared faith.
Polarities
As well as the streams, there are also the extremes or polarities - most notably the fundamentalist/liberal spectrum. Extreme fundamentalism tends to be characterised by over-rigidity and narrowness - scriptural literalism, doctrinal dogmatism, narrow exclusivism, strict moralism and often judgemental legalism. Fundamentalism is usually associated most with the evangelical stream, and least with the mystical.Extreme liberalism in contrast is so broad and inclusive that it often loses any distinctive Christian character; often there is very little doctrine and little or no belief in God, the supernatural, miracles or the divine inspiration of the Bible.
Another polarity is that between logical/rational and emotional/intuitive/symbolic - basically left and right brain. Again, evangelicalism usually tends towards the rational end; contemplative and sacramental streams towards the intuitive/symbolic.
I susect then that people often gravitate towards a particular stream of faith (and therefore to a particular denomination) mainly because of their own personality type, and also upbringing. And also perhaps to do with what stage they are at on their faith journey, which I'll look at in my next post...
Monday, 15 March 2010
The Evangelical Liberal
A glance at my birthday books wishlist reveals quite a bit about where I am on my faith journey... titles include 'The Christian Agnostic', 'The Orthodox Heretic' and (appropriately given those two) 'Paradoxy'.
Let me reassure (or disappoint) anyone concerned - I'm not losing my Christian faith. In fact, I'd say that my faith in Christ and love for God were stronger and deeper now than they've ever been. But I feel that I'm emerging, slowly and cautiously, from the confining chrysalis of my years of evangelical doctrine, literalism and legalism ('oughtism'), into the fresh air and light of a new way of being Christian. It's a way that owes much to the contemplative and mystical streams of Christianity.
Chrysalises are good and necessary, but they are only meant for a time - they are a stage on the journey. However, growth and even metamorphosis does not have to mean turning your back on the past, rejecting what nurtured you. I'm not cutting off my evangelical roots; I'm quite happily remaining within the charismatic-evangelical Anglican church I've been part of for 16 years. Nor am I turning theologically ultra-liberal, jettisoning belief in God or miracles, the uniqueness and divinity of Christ or the reality of the resurrection.
Rather I would say I'm simply becoming more open in my beliefs and in my ways of believing; less hung up on right answers, sound doctrines, 'correct' ways of interpreting the Bible; more open to insights from other traditions and even other faiths; more open and honest about the flaws and inconsistencies in my own tradition, and about my own real doubts and struggles. I'm becoming less wedded to certainty and more open to mystery. I'm giving up my obsession with facts, proofs and systems of theology in favour of divine paradox, which I increasingly see as the creative core of living Christian faith.
I'm even open to the possibility that Christ may be present and active incognito in and through other faiths than my own. (I'm not saying that all ways equally lead to God, but that God can and does make himself known to those following other ways than mainstream Christianity.) I think my overriding sense is simply that God is greater, bigger and more than I've yet understood him - and than I will ever be able to understand.
So for now I'm happy to be agnostic about parts of my faith - agnostic merely means not knowing, and who but God can claim - or need - to know everything? And even 'heretic' comes originally from a Greek word merely meaning 'to choose' or 'to take'. Peter Rollins (author of 'The Orthodox Heretic') suggests that true orthodoxy is not so much about believing the right things, as believing in the right way - the way of love; the way of Christ.
Meanwhile it looks like all the best titles have been used so for now my own (imaginary) book will be called 'The Evangelical Liberal'. After all, 'libera' refers to freedom, and 'evangel' to the good news of Christ, and I can't find much fault with either of those.
Let me reassure (or disappoint) anyone concerned - I'm not losing my Christian faith. In fact, I'd say that my faith in Christ and love for God were stronger and deeper now than they've ever been. But I feel that I'm emerging, slowly and cautiously, from the confining chrysalis of my years of evangelical doctrine, literalism and legalism ('oughtism'), into the fresh air and light of a new way of being Christian. It's a way that owes much to the contemplative and mystical streams of Christianity.
Chrysalises are good and necessary, but they are only meant for a time - they are a stage on the journey. However, growth and even metamorphosis does not have to mean turning your back on the past, rejecting what nurtured you. I'm not cutting off my evangelical roots; I'm quite happily remaining within the charismatic-evangelical Anglican church I've been part of for 16 years. Nor am I turning theologically ultra-liberal, jettisoning belief in God or miracles, the uniqueness and divinity of Christ or the reality of the resurrection.
Rather I would say I'm simply becoming more open in my beliefs and in my ways of believing; less hung up on right answers, sound doctrines, 'correct' ways of interpreting the Bible; more open to insights from other traditions and even other faiths; more open and honest about the flaws and inconsistencies in my own tradition, and about my own real doubts and struggles. I'm becoming less wedded to certainty and more open to mystery. I'm giving up my obsession with facts, proofs and systems of theology in favour of divine paradox, which I increasingly see as the creative core of living Christian faith.
I'm even open to the possibility that Christ may be present and active incognito in and through other faiths than my own. (I'm not saying that all ways equally lead to God, but that God can and does make himself known to those following other ways than mainstream Christianity.) I think my overriding sense is simply that God is greater, bigger and more than I've yet understood him - and than I will ever be able to understand.
So for now I'm happy to be agnostic about parts of my faith - agnostic merely means not knowing, and who but God can claim - or need - to know everything? And even 'heretic' comes originally from a Greek word merely meaning 'to choose' or 'to take'. Peter Rollins (author of 'The Orthodox Heretic') suggests that true orthodoxy is not so much about believing the right things, as believing in the right way - the way of love; the way of Christ.
Meanwhile it looks like all the best titles have been used so for now my own (imaginary) book will be called 'The Evangelical Liberal'. After all, 'libera' refers to freedom, and 'evangel' to the good news of Christ, and I can't find much fault with either of those.
Saturday, 13 March 2010
What can we say of God?
I've just finished a fantastic book, How (not) to Speak of God by Peter Rollins - one of the deepest, most thoughtful spiritual books I've read. Rollins' paradoxical central thesis is that 'That which we cannot speak of [i.e. God] is the one thing about whom and to whom we must never stop speaking'.
If God is always beyond human language, human thought, human understanding - as he must be to be truly God - what can we ever say of him? Must we simply remain silent before the mystery?
I believe that, though we can never fully comprehend or conceptualise God, there are nonetheless a number of things we can truly say about him. (NB I'm using the masculine pronoun for simplicity, not to denote gender.) We can speak - always humbly, tentatively and provisionally - because God has spoken to us in a variety of ways, and ultimately because he has come to us - has made himself known to us - in Christ.
Firstly we can say that God IS; that he is Real, or the Real - the ultimate Reality, fount and foundation of all being, of all that is; and that he is without beginning or end or limit.
We can say that he is Good, that indeed he is Goodness itself and the source of all good; in him is no evil. Good is simply rightness - the natural, original, essential state of all being and all things. He is therefore also the source and essence of all Life, Light and Love, and all that flow from these - truth, joy, beauty, healing, mercy, freedom, hope, justice. We can say that there is no truly good thing that does not have its source in him and its place in his realm, his 'kingdom'.
We can say that he is immeasurably and infinitely greater, better, higher, more, than anything we could possibly conceptualise or imagine.
We can say that he is both personal and relational, the source of personality and relationship; for he is Love and love requires both of these things. In himself he represents and embodies the perfect communion, circle or dance of love, and that love shines out, reaches out endlessly and limitlessly to draw others into itself, into its circle of belonging and acceptance, of freedom and joy.
We can say that he is the God who communicates, who 'speaks', for relationship must involve communication (though not necessarily or primarily verbal). And he has indeed spoken, and continues to speak - through prophets, saints and even donkeys; through nature; through humans, who specially bear his (albeit dim and distorted) image; through the chequered history, songs and stories of the Hebrews in the Bible; through our own reason, conscience and experience. All these are cracked vessels, flawed messengers, presenting God's image 'through a glass darkly'.
But God has also spoken in one further way - through the life, character, words and works of Jesus Christ, who (his followers believe) is the perfect human representation and embodiment - incarnation - of God. In and through him we can see the God who is beyond sight, can know the God who is beyond knowledge.
God cannot be understood any more than light can be seen. Rather, light is what we see by, and God is what we understand by - he is the beginning and source of understanding, as well as its end and destination. To know God is both to love him and to be in awe of him; and this is the starting point and context for all other understanding.
If God is always beyond human language, human thought, human understanding - as he must be to be truly God - what can we ever say of him? Must we simply remain silent before the mystery?
I believe that, though we can never fully comprehend or conceptualise God, there are nonetheless a number of things we can truly say about him. (NB I'm using the masculine pronoun for simplicity, not to denote gender.) We can speak - always humbly, tentatively and provisionally - because God has spoken to us in a variety of ways, and ultimately because he has come to us - has made himself known to us - in Christ.
Firstly we can say that God IS; that he is Real, or the Real - the ultimate Reality, fount and foundation of all being, of all that is; and that he is without beginning or end or limit.
We can say that he is Good, that indeed he is Goodness itself and the source of all good; in him is no evil. Good is simply rightness - the natural, original, essential state of all being and all things. He is therefore also the source and essence of all Life, Light and Love, and all that flow from these - truth, joy, beauty, healing, mercy, freedom, hope, justice. We can say that there is no truly good thing that does not have its source in him and its place in his realm, his 'kingdom'.
We can say that he is immeasurably and infinitely greater, better, higher, more, than anything we could possibly conceptualise or imagine.
We can say that he is both personal and relational, the source of personality and relationship; for he is Love and love requires both of these things. In himself he represents and embodies the perfect communion, circle or dance of love, and that love shines out, reaches out endlessly and limitlessly to draw others into itself, into its circle of belonging and acceptance, of freedom and joy.
We can say that he is the God who communicates, who 'speaks', for relationship must involve communication (though not necessarily or primarily verbal). And he has indeed spoken, and continues to speak - through prophets, saints and even donkeys; through nature; through humans, who specially bear his (albeit dim and distorted) image; through the chequered history, songs and stories of the Hebrews in the Bible; through our own reason, conscience and experience. All these are cracked vessels, flawed messengers, presenting God's image 'through a glass darkly'.
But God has also spoken in one further way - through the life, character, words and works of Jesus Christ, who (his followers believe) is the perfect human representation and embodiment - incarnation - of God. In and through him we can see the God who is beyond sight, can know the God who is beyond knowledge.
God cannot be understood any more than light can be seen. Rather, light is what we see by, and God is what we understand by - he is the beginning and source of understanding, as well as its end and destination. To know God is both to love him and to be in awe of him; and this is the starting point and context for all other understanding.
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