It's been a tough couple weeks in ministry. Two weeks ago I did a funeral for a young guy I'd never met who was tragically killed in a car accident. He was only 31-years-old. Neither he nor his immediate family had any connection to a church and he didn't even live in our area, but his grandparents go to my church and his mom happens to be my next-door neighbor. I was called by the funeral director and asked if I could do the funeral. Absolutely. While these are some of the most difficult funerals to do, my hope and prayer is to be a channel of God's grace to the hurting and grieving family. And by God's grace it went very well.
At the same time I was planning that funeral, a wonderful and beloved 91-year-old woman in our church fell (while going into Thursday morning ladies Bible study) and broke her hip. Doctors performed a surgery the following day and she was doing fantastic. Even when I had visited her in the ER immediately following her fall and the break, she was her normal chipper self. Within a couple days of surgery she was set to be transferred to a local nursing home for rehab before being able to go back home (she still lived independently and was very active). But then, tragically, her kidneys began failing and a host of other complications led to a quick, heart-breaking, downward spiral. She died this past Friday night--one week after her fall. I'm doing her funeral Wednesday. I just returned home from meeting with her family to plan the funeral.
Psalm 116:15 says, "Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his faithful servants." This woman was one of the saints and she will be greatly missed. But we also do not grieve as those who have no hope (see 1Thessalonians 4:13).
While all this has been going on, another elderly woman in our church has been moved into hospice care and is now facing her final hours/days as cancer has taken over her body, and particularly her brain. While I don't have as close of a relationship with this woman, her grandson is a young man I've been mentoring and discipling for three years. He's now finishing up his second year of college and developing into a wonderful, godly young man. I'm very proud of him. I spent a considerable amount of time just sitting with the family in the hospital on Friday. In times like these you can really just be present, available, a listening ear, and offer prayer and comfort the best you can through the enabling power of the Holy Spirit. At least that's what I try to do.
My heart also breaks and aches for another elderly woman in our church. She has been very ill herself, which has kept her from the relatively active and independent lifestyle she's maintained into her 80s. To make matters worse, she was best friends with the other woman who died. In fact the two were nearly inseparable. They along with a few other women were known affectionately as the "Golden Girls" around town because they did everything together, including attending most of the local high school basketball games. This woman is not only facing her own mortality as she thinks about the loss of her friend and her own health complications, but she's having to navigate the very difficult transitions of giving up things that are familiar and comfortable and that she's always done.
These and so many other situations that could be mentioned weigh heavily on my heart. And they also cause me to reflect on my own mortality. Life is short. Our time here is a tiny blip in light of eternity. As the psalmist said, "Our days on earth are like grass; like wildflowers, we bloom and die. The wind blows, and we are gone--as though we had never been" (Psalm 103:15-16, NLT). That can be a bit depressing if you dwell too much on it.
I remember a professor of mine sharing with our class once the verse that he found most sad and depressing in all of Scripture. It was Ecclesiastes 9:14-15: "There was once a small city with only a few people in it. And a powerful king came against it, surrounded it and built huge siege works against it. Now there lived in that city a man poor but wise, and he saved the city by his wisdom. But nobody remembered that poor man."
I shared today in the Sunday school class I teach a paraphrase of something I'd read in an article once: Most days I wake up with the naive assumption that today will be better than yesterday and that tomorrow will be better than today. For most of my life this has actually been true. I've been blessed and very fortunate, although I've endured tough times like anyone else (for example, the pre-mature death of my father when he was only 44 and I was 25). Nevertheless the overall trajectory of my life has been full of blessing. I have so much to be thankful for. I have some experience that feeds that naive assumption that each day will be better than the last.
Yet I bet when that 31-year-old man got up that fateful morning he wasn't thinking that would be his life day on this earth. The same goes for the beloved elderly woman that fell and broke her hip. She wasn't thinking, "Today I'm going to fall and break my hip and in a week I will be dead." The same goes for the young guy I know who died of brain cancer after suffering for six years. He wasn't even 30. The same goes for the young married mom in my church who may be facing an MS diagnosis. She's only 29. The same goes for so many others I know personally and an infinite number of people I don't and never will. The same goes for any of any of us. Anything could happen at any time.
The point of this somewhat admittedly depressing post is not that we should live in fear of what might happen or could happen.
Quite the opposite!
The point is that we should understand life is a precious gift from God. We should seize every moment of every day, taking nothing for granted, and doing everything for the glory of God, putting our ultimate hope and trust in Christ. We should demonstrate Calvary-quality, self-sacrificial love and service to all those we come across as we go about our day and live our lives. We should love our wives and husbands and kids and moms and dads and whoever else is in our family and sphere of influence with all our might. We should try new things, challenge ourselves, learn, and grow and expand our horizons, and we should appreciate and respect old things and traditions that have their place. We should work hard, be productive, and fight for causes that truly matter--things like justice and peace and goodness and love. We should live extending grace to others because we ourselves needs lots of grace. And we should daily thank God for all the ways he's blessed us and ask for strength and courage and grace to get through the tough stuff.
I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow. I truly hope tomorrow is better than today and the next day is better than that. Maybe it will be. Or maybe it won't. Whatever happens, I hope I can say with integrity like Job: The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Friday, February 22, 2013
A New Look, Same Old Shinanigans
I'm not a tech-savvy person by any means, so self-designing a really cool and hip blog or website is a bit beyond me. I'm stuck with the pre-programmed templates. (Yes I know how to customize the colors and whatnot, but I generally don't bother much with that.) (And to my friend Joel, I'm jealous of the cool, professional-looking header you have for your blog! How did you do that, by the way?)
On a more serious note, while folks who read SamSpeak with any kind of regularity may assume that I'm most at home while theologizing and questioning deeply held beliefs, convictions, and assumptions of the evangelical brand of Christian faith, the truth is, even more than that, I love to be with people. I love to hear their stories, learn about their faith journeys, and listen to whatever it is they feel comfortable sharing.
Sometimes the things they share are heartbreaking--past abuse that still demonizes them, bad choices and decisions that have made them feel trapped and alone in their struggles, marriages on the brink of divorce, secret sins, regrets, hopelessness. Other times the stories aren't quite so traumatic. Sometimes they are even quite positive. But always there are stories. And I love having the privilege of listening to their stories, pointing them to God's redemptive activity in the midst of their story, and praying for them.
Ultimately, ministry, the Christian faith, and the Christian life aren't about ideas or beliefs or doctrines (though there are those things and they are important, but they aren't the most important). Rather, it's about people. Or, more accurately, it's about a person--Jesus Christ. "You study the Scriptures diligently because you think that in them you have eternal life," Jesus said to the Jewish religious leaders. "These are the very Scriptures that testify about me, yet you refuse to come to me to have life" (John 5:39-40).
I used to be like those Jewish religious leaders. I systematically and diligently studied the Scriptures for the proof texts that would prove me right and others wrong. There was a time when I thought having the right beliefs about everything was the most important thing. In fact, a fundamental assumption (unquestioned on my part during this phase of my journey) of that kind of thinking is that it's even possible to have the full, final, decisive, and correct view about everything, which of course, was always my view. I know, just a teeny bit arrogant, right? And, as you might imagine, I was therefore not all that pleasant to be around. Especially if I thought you were wrong! (I have written about my journey from that ugly, legalistic, doctrine police chief here and here.)
The Greatest Commandment, according to Jesus, the one in which the entire Law and Prophets hang, is to love God and to love others (see Mark 12:28-34). You see, even if we have all our doctrinal "i's" dotted and our "t's" crossed, but aren't loving God and others, we've missed the boat. Big time. The Apostle Paul says it this way:
If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I posses to the poor and give my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing (1 Corinthians 13:1-3).
Earlier this week, OT professor Peter Enns offered a thought-provoking post entitled "The Most Frightening Verse in the Bible (at least for me). He begins by relating a humorous but also disheartening story about a former seminary student who came back to campus and intentionally sought him out with a mind to set his former professor straight on a few things (sad to say, I could see some earlier versions of myself in his former student). The exchange got Enns thinking.
So what is Enn' most frightening verse? 1 John 4:7-8 and 12. (I'll let you look them up; suffice it to say, they are all about love.)
Enns then concludes:
I know the Bible sometimes makes absolute-sounding statements when something less threatening would do. I'm just not sure if this is one of those places. This actually sounds pretty foundational, especially since it's hardly a minor theme in the New Testament.
Here's what's frightening:
What if this is one of those verses we are supposed to take literally?
And what happens if we do not love one another? Then what?
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying Christians should never disagree or exchange sharp words when needed. But… 1 John, and that conversation years ago, keep hanging around in the back of my head.
What if all that love business is as true and serious as it seems to be?Indeed, what if?
Monday, February 18, 2013
Jesus Uncrossed: A Look In the Mirror
I've rarely watched Saturday Night Live (mostly becomes I'm in bed before it comes on--hey, I have to preach on Sunday morning!), but apparently their recent skit DJesus Uncrossed, a satirical poke and parody of Quentin Tarantino's film "DJango Unchained", has raised quite a stir. After watching the skit on YouTube, I'm sure that the full fall-out, outrage, and outcry has yet to take affect.
I learned about the skit today when reading David D. Flowers' blog post entitled "Jesus Uncrossed" and then followed up by reading several other subsequent related posts by others. Insightful commentary was shared in David R. Henson's post entitled "DJesus Uncrossed: Tarantino, Driscoll and the Violent Remaking of Jesus in America." Pastor and theologian Greg Boyd also chimed in on the conversation by noting Henson's post and making a few other comments.
I know I risk offending (maybe horrifying) some folks I dearly love, but I thought the SNL skit was thought-provoking and worth constructive conversation among Christians. Why? Because as Henson said in his blog post noted above, "even though the sketch satirized Tarantino, it also said something quite profound and revealing, if unintentionally, about how Americans have remade Jesus in our own violent images."
Henson continues:
A provocative, poignant analysis, to say the least. I have to say I largely agree with Henson's assessment quoted here.
I've written in the past on Christians and patriotism, and following the lead of Greg Boyd's The Myth of a Christian Nation, have begun subtly critiquing through my blog posts, preaching and teaching, and personal conversations and interactions with others, the subversive ways in which we evangelical Christians have tended to equate certain political ideologies with the kingdom of God and being a Christian.
Furthermore, the often unspoken but firmly ingrained theology of "manifest destiny" which essentially makes America a new Israel and a new specially chosen people of God is fatally flawed and leads to the kind of unquestioned and unchecked nationalism and xenophobia Henson notes. And this sort of thing usually plays out violently, often in Jesus' name. (As an aside, America is not the first nation to so closely wed faith and politics and conquer in Jesus' name. It's been going on with world powers ever since Constantine wedded church and state relations in the fourth century.)
This is a huge conversation, really too much to tackle in a single post. Relevant and related topics to this whole Jesus Uncrossed thing are not only politics, ideology, the current gun debate, and the much larger conversation that needs to happen about how violent our culture is becoming, but precisely what Henson talks about in his post. That is, too many Christians have subtly, yet insidiously, re-made the Jesus of Scripture, especially as portrayed in the Gospels, into a Jesus in our own image after our own likeness.
There is the capitalist, consumerist Jesus of the American Dream. There is Buddy Jesus, parodied in the provocative film "Dogma." There is the great moral teacher and life coach Jesus--a sort of Oprah-ized Jesus who can offer us great tips on living a happy, content, and spiritually rich life. And in this specific case of Jesus Uncrossed, I'm compelled to identify and call into question a pervasive cultural phenomenon among many conservative Christians that amounts to what David R. Flowers described in his blog post noted above as "an American gun-slinging Jesus." (For the record, I'm NOT against people owning guns. I don't personally own one. But I'm not at all opposed to people's Second Amendment "right to bear arms" and owning guns, hunting, protecting themselves, etc., so long as they do so legally and responsibly.)
As an example, just today I read an AP piece in the USA Today entitled "Texas: A Place Where Guns are Right at Home." The story opens by introducing gun-slinging Pastor James McAbee "who believes the Scriptures can tame temptation and wash away sin. But he'll tell you that nothing repels true evil like a well-placed, loaded Glock .40 caliber pistol."
The article, which informatively explores the historical roots of gun culture in Texas and sheds light on the larger gun debate in our country, concludes by quoting McAbee: "I preach peace. Having a firearm keeps the peace."
Again, I don't begrudge Pastor McAbee his right to carry a gun. But I do find his sentiments a bit disturbing and directly in conflict with the teachings of Jesus and the example of Jesus in Scripture.
Given the cultural commentary of the SNL skit, perhaps it's time we as Christians look in the mirror and ask some hard questions. Because maybe, just maybe we've gotten some things wrong.
Perhaps we have not really taken seriously Jesus' commands to love our enemies, do good to those who hate us, bless those who curse us, and pray for those who mistreat us (see Luke 6:27-28).
Perhaps we are quite unwilling, following both the example and teaching of Jesus, to turn the other cheek and to not retaliate in kind, and take the even more radical step of forgiving those who have conspired against us, wronged us, and even hurt us deeply. (Remember Jesus forgave his perpetrators while he hung on the cross dying a brutal death and he forgave and reinstated Peter who had vehemently denied him! -- see Luke 23:34 and John 21:15-25; see also 1 Peter 2:21-23).
Perhaps we think the instructions of the Apostle Paul are unrealistic, impractical, and even silly when he said, "Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God's wrath [i.e. God's own righteous judgment in his time and his way] . . . Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good" (Romans 12:17-19, 21).
Perhaps we don't really believe John of Patmos when he proclaims that Jesus won his decisive and ultimate victory, not through violent revolution and military might, but quite ironically through his sacrificial death on the cross (Revelation 4 and 5) and that we, as Jesus' followers, also are ultimately guaranteed victory "by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of [our] testimony" (Revelation 12:11). (As an aside, though I quote Henson favorably above and agree with his critique, I disagree with his reading of Revelation expressed in his post. For what seems to me a better reading of Revelation and the approach I tend to take, see Greg Boyd's post here.)
Perhaps the writers at SNL offer a timely critique of the culturally co-opted Jesus that has too often been adopted by Christians and baptized by our society's gun culture.
I learned about the skit today when reading David D. Flowers' blog post entitled "Jesus Uncrossed" and then followed up by reading several other subsequent related posts by others. Insightful commentary was shared in David R. Henson's post entitled "DJesus Uncrossed: Tarantino, Driscoll and the Violent Remaking of Jesus in America." Pastor and theologian Greg Boyd also chimed in on the conversation by noting Henson's post and making a few other comments.
I know I risk offending (maybe horrifying) some folks I dearly love, but I thought the SNL skit was thought-provoking and worth constructive conversation among Christians. Why? Because as Henson said in his blog post noted above, "even though the sketch satirized Tarantino, it also said something quite profound and revealing, if unintentionally, about how Americans have remade Jesus in our own violent images."
Henson continues:
We have tried to arm him with our military-industrial complex, drape him with our xenophobia, outfit him with our weapons, and adorn him with our nationalism. We’ve turned the cross into a flagpole for the Stars and Stripes. We have no need for Tarantino to reimagine the story of Jesus into a fantasy of violent revenge. We’ve done it for him. We’ve already uncrossed him, transforming him from a servant into a triumphalist who holds the causes and interests of our country on his back rather than brutal execution.
The SNL sketch reveals the paucity of American popular theology with its camouflage and flag-draped Bibles that segregate the story of God for American patriots only. It pulls back the curtain and shows us just how twisted our Jesus really is: We want a Savior like the one SNL offers. We want the Son of God to kick some ass and take some names. Specifically, our enemies’ names. And maybe the names of a few godless Democrats. Definitely the Muslims. And the atheists. And the … I could go on.
A provocative, poignant analysis, to say the least. I have to say I largely agree with Henson's assessment quoted here.
I've written in the past on Christians and patriotism, and following the lead of Greg Boyd's The Myth of a Christian Nation, have begun subtly critiquing through my blog posts, preaching and teaching, and personal conversations and interactions with others, the subversive ways in which we evangelical Christians have tended to equate certain political ideologies with the kingdom of God and being a Christian.
Furthermore, the often unspoken but firmly ingrained theology of "manifest destiny" which essentially makes America a new Israel and a new specially chosen people of God is fatally flawed and leads to the kind of unquestioned and unchecked nationalism and xenophobia Henson notes. And this sort of thing usually plays out violently, often in Jesus' name. (As an aside, America is not the first nation to so closely wed faith and politics and conquer in Jesus' name. It's been going on with world powers ever since Constantine wedded church and state relations in the fourth century.)
This is a huge conversation, really too much to tackle in a single post. Relevant and related topics to this whole Jesus Uncrossed thing are not only politics, ideology, the current gun debate, and the much larger conversation that needs to happen about how violent our culture is becoming, but precisely what Henson talks about in his post. That is, too many Christians have subtly, yet insidiously, re-made the Jesus of Scripture, especially as portrayed in the Gospels, into a Jesus in our own image after our own likeness.
There is the capitalist, consumerist Jesus of the American Dream. There is Buddy Jesus, parodied in the provocative film "Dogma." There is the great moral teacher and life coach Jesus--a sort of Oprah-ized Jesus who can offer us great tips on living a happy, content, and spiritually rich life. And in this specific case of Jesus Uncrossed, I'm compelled to identify and call into question a pervasive cultural phenomenon among many conservative Christians that amounts to what David R. Flowers described in his blog post noted above as "an American gun-slinging Jesus." (For the record, I'm NOT against people owning guns. I don't personally own one. But I'm not at all opposed to people's Second Amendment "right to bear arms" and owning guns, hunting, protecting themselves, etc., so long as they do so legally and responsibly.)
As an example, just today I read an AP piece in the USA Today entitled "Texas: A Place Where Guns are Right at Home." The story opens by introducing gun-slinging Pastor James McAbee "who believes the Scriptures can tame temptation and wash away sin. But he'll tell you that nothing repels true evil like a well-placed, loaded Glock .40 caliber pistol."
The article, which informatively explores the historical roots of gun culture in Texas and sheds light on the larger gun debate in our country, concludes by quoting McAbee: "I preach peace. Having a firearm keeps the peace."
Again, I don't begrudge Pastor McAbee his right to carry a gun. But I do find his sentiments a bit disturbing and directly in conflict with the teachings of Jesus and the example of Jesus in Scripture.
Given the cultural commentary of the SNL skit, perhaps it's time we as Christians look in the mirror and ask some hard questions. Because maybe, just maybe we've gotten some things wrong.
Perhaps we have not really taken seriously Jesus' commands to love our enemies, do good to those who hate us, bless those who curse us, and pray for those who mistreat us (see Luke 6:27-28).
Perhaps we are quite unwilling, following both the example and teaching of Jesus, to turn the other cheek and to not retaliate in kind, and take the even more radical step of forgiving those who have conspired against us, wronged us, and even hurt us deeply. (Remember Jesus forgave his perpetrators while he hung on the cross dying a brutal death and he forgave and reinstated Peter who had vehemently denied him! -- see Luke 23:34 and John 21:15-25; see also 1 Peter 2:21-23).
Perhaps we think the instructions of the Apostle Paul are unrealistic, impractical, and even silly when he said, "Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God's wrath [i.e. God's own righteous judgment in his time and his way] . . . Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good" (Romans 12:17-19, 21).
Perhaps we don't really believe John of Patmos when he proclaims that Jesus won his decisive and ultimate victory, not through violent revolution and military might, but quite ironically through his sacrificial death on the cross (Revelation 4 and 5) and that we, as Jesus' followers, also are ultimately guaranteed victory "by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of [our] testimony" (Revelation 12:11). (As an aside, though I quote Henson favorably above and agree with his critique, I disagree with his reading of Revelation expressed in his post. For what seems to me a better reading of Revelation and the approach I tend to take, see Greg Boyd's post here.)
Perhaps the writers at SNL offer a timely critique of the culturally co-opted Jesus that has too often been adopted by Christians and baptized by our society's gun culture.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Best Reads of 2012: N.T. Wright
In a previous post I gave a teaser for an upcoming blog series where I'd reflect on some of my best reads in 2012. I'm beginning that series today by highlighting two books by the British historian and New Testament theologian N.T. Wright.
In Simply Jesus: A New Vision of What He Was, What He Did, and Why it Matters and the follow-up How God Became King: The Forgotten Story of the Gospels (published in 2011 and 2012 respectively), Wright continues his seemingly life-long project to the academy and the Church of helping us understand Jesus in his first century Jewish, Roman Imperial context.
If you've never read Wright before, these are not bad places to begin. In fact I would say they are great places to begin. Both books cover much of the ground he's already laid in previous books that are written at this level (meaning these books are aimed at the non-specialist and directed to a more popular audience) while also going further and providing greater clarity on the practical application of understanding Jesus in his cultural context.
I was fortunate to be introduced to Wright several years ago, quite by dumb luck, or perhaps by Divine providence, whichever way one may choose to see it, when my then newly-wedded wife got me The Meaning of Jesus. That book (also a great read) is a debate between Wright and the more theologically liberal Marcus Borg (whom if I'm not mistaken was a member of the Jesus Seminar). I shall leave it to you to read the book for yourself and determine who you think "won" the debate and made the most compelling case. (They both make pretty good cases for their views)
At any rate, I've been hooked on reading Wright ever since and have an entire shelf in my library stacked with his books (and I don't have nearly all of them!). Wright has probably impacted my own reading of the New Testament and it's Old Testament and non-canonical Jewish literary background in general and the Gospels in particular more than just about anyone else. When there is a new N.T. Wright book out, I make sure I get it!
In Simply Jesus Wright begins by asserting that the person of Jesus of Nazareth is intriguing just from a historical perspective. His unique life begs the question: Who exactly was he? And then there is a challenge as well: "Since he called people to follow him, and since people have been trying to that ever since, what might 'following him' entail? How can we know if we are on the right track?"
It is to both of these questions that Wright had dedicated much of his own life's work. And for Wright it's not purely academic. It's personal. He himself is a follower of Jesus, making his way in the world, and working out his salvation with fear and trembling.
It's also pastoral, as Wright has served in various pastoral roles and positions within the Anglican Church, including a stint as Bishop of Durham and Dean of Litchfield Cathedral, among others.
And trying to figure out who exactly Jesus was (and is) and what his life meant (means) remains imminently important and practical for Christians today. As Wright notes in an earlier book, The Challenge of Jesus (published 1999):
The four chapters comprising section two in the book (The Story of Israel, The Story of Jesus as the Story of Israel's God, The Launching of God's Renewed People, and The Clash of Kingdoms) are particularly insightful in helping orient readers to the cultural, politico-religio-socio-economic context and milieu of Jesus.
Section three in the book, entitled "The Kingdom and the Cross" and comprising three different chapters is brilliant and offers what may be an uncomfortable critique for those who equate their pious Christan responsibility and duty with some version of "taking America (or whatever kingdom of the world you happen to live in) back for God." As Wright (and others writing on this topic note) there were many of Jesus' contemporaries who thought it their pious duty to "take Israel back for God" and they expected the Messiah (and Jesus if he was the Messiah) to do just that. As Wright argues, Jesus ultimately does. But not in the way that anyone expected.
At the end of the day, you simply can't go wrong by reading N.T. Wright. Even if you disagree with him (and some do), he is one of the leading historians and theologians in the world writing today on Jesus, and therefore worth the time and effort to see what he has to say. He's impacted my own thinking, theology, and understanding ofthe biblical meta-narrative profoundly.
In Simply Jesus: A New Vision of What He Was, What He Did, and Why it Matters and the follow-up How God Became King: The Forgotten Story of the Gospels (published in 2011 and 2012 respectively), Wright continues his seemingly life-long project to the academy and the Church of helping us understand Jesus in his first century Jewish, Roman Imperial context.
If you've never read Wright before, these are not bad places to begin. In fact I would say they are great places to begin. Both books cover much of the ground he's already laid in previous books that are written at this level (meaning these books are aimed at the non-specialist and directed to a more popular audience) while also going further and providing greater clarity on the practical application of understanding Jesus in his cultural context.
I was fortunate to be introduced to Wright several years ago, quite by dumb luck, or perhaps by Divine providence, whichever way one may choose to see it, when my then newly-wedded wife got me The Meaning of Jesus. That book (also a great read) is a debate between Wright and the more theologically liberal Marcus Borg (whom if I'm not mistaken was a member of the Jesus Seminar). I shall leave it to you to read the book for yourself and determine who you think "won" the debate and made the most compelling case. (They both make pretty good cases for their views)
At any rate, I've been hooked on reading Wright ever since and have an entire shelf in my library stacked with his books (and I don't have nearly all of them!). Wright has probably impacted my own reading of the New Testament and it's Old Testament and non-canonical Jewish literary background in general and the Gospels in particular more than just about anyone else. When there is a new N.T. Wright book out, I make sure I get it!
In Simply Jesus Wright begins by asserting that the person of Jesus of Nazareth is intriguing just from a historical perspective. His unique life begs the question: Who exactly was he? And then there is a challenge as well: "Since he called people to follow him, and since people have been trying to that ever since, what might 'following him' entail? How can we know if we are on the right track?"
It is to both of these questions that Wright had dedicated much of his own life's work. And for Wright it's not purely academic. It's personal. He himself is a follower of Jesus, making his way in the world, and working out his salvation with fear and trembling.
It's also pastoral, as Wright has served in various pastoral roles and positions within the Anglican Church, including a stint as Bishop of Durham and Dean of Litchfield Cathedral, among others.
And trying to figure out who exactly Jesus was (and is) and what his life meant (means) remains imminently important and practical for Christians today. As Wright notes in an earlier book, The Challenge of Jesus (published 1999):
"I regard the continuing historical quest for Jesus as a necessary part of ongoing Christian discipleship. I doubt very much if in the present age we shall ever get to the point where we know all there is to know and understand all there is to understand about Jesus, who he was, what he said and what he did, and what he meant by it all. But since orthodox Christianity has always held firm to the basic belief that it is by looking at Jesus himself that we discover who God is, it seems to me indisputable that we should expect always to be continuing in the quest for Jesus precisely as part of, indeed perhaps as the sharp edge of, our exploration into God himself" (15).In How God Became King Wright moves from looking at Jesus in particular to the larger story and narrative of Israel and how Jesus fits into that story, and is indeed, the culmination of that story.
The four chapters comprising section two in the book (The Story of Israel, The Story of Jesus as the Story of Israel's God, The Launching of God's Renewed People, and The Clash of Kingdoms) are particularly insightful in helping orient readers to the cultural, politico-religio-socio-economic context and milieu of Jesus.
Section three in the book, entitled "The Kingdom and the Cross" and comprising three different chapters is brilliant and offers what may be an uncomfortable critique for those who equate their pious Christan responsibility and duty with some version of "taking America (or whatever kingdom of the world you happen to live in) back for God." As Wright (and others writing on this topic note) there were many of Jesus' contemporaries who thought it their pious duty to "take Israel back for God" and they expected the Messiah (and Jesus if he was the Messiah) to do just that. As Wright argues, Jesus ultimately does. But not in the way that anyone expected.
At the end of the day, you simply can't go wrong by reading N.T. Wright. Even if you disagree with him (and some do), he is one of the leading historians and theologians in the world writing today on Jesus, and therefore worth the time and effort to see what he has to say. He's impacted my own thinking, theology, and understanding ofthe biblical meta-narrative profoundly.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
The Century Mark.
Today's post is a bit of a milestone in the life of SamSpeak. According to the counter that comes with Blogger, this is my 100th published post. Finally, after four years of sporadic--and for one or two of those years virtually non-existent--blogging, I finally hit the century mark.
In case you're wondering, yes, it feels a bit anti-climactic. There will be no celebrations or anything. But I did want to reflect briefly on my blogging history.
My very first post was published on Wednesday, October 8, 2008. You can read that post here. (Warning, it's not all that great!)
I basically started blogging not long after I became a full-time pastor because (1) I've always enjoyed writing (I actually was first an English major in college and I worked for three years as a staff writer at a newspaper); (2) Some friends of mine were already blogging and it seemed like an interesting medium and cool thing to be part of (thanks Dave and others!) and (3) I had read in a few different places that all pastors should have a blog (even though I happen to know many pastors who don't).
So, technologically impaired as I am, I took the plunge into the world of the blogosphere.
I blogged fairly consistently after I first started in 2008 and throughout 2009. The most posts I've published so far in a single year was in 2009, with 44 posts. I'd like to believe I can do better than that. My personal (though ever unmet) goal has always been two or three posts per week. Maybe this year. But my track record thus far isn't so good.
In July 2009 my wife and I transitioned to our current town and church ministry and then blogging pretty much fell by the wayside for a couple years with only one post in 2010 (why don't I just delete it?) and only four posts in 2011.
It was largely because life was a total blur during that period of transition, change, and getting settled that I didn't blog much. I now regret the fact that I neither blogged nor kept up on my personal journal because we navigated some tough times that God brought us through and we learned all kinds of lessons about trusting God, staying the course, and being faithful in what God had called us to. There were also some incredible high points and amazing displays of God's lavish grace. Even one literal miracle that to this day I cannot explain any other way other than it was a total God thing. (It's how we ended up able to buy our current home!)
I wish I had a written record of some of that. Looking back there was great blogging and journaling fodder. But as I recall, blogging was about the last thing on my mind. Some days I was literally just trying to get through without having a total break-down. Yes, I was that stressed out and depressed. Not always, mind you. But often enough that it mattered and affected me.
Thankfully, I'm mostly out of that funk. Now most days I revel in how blessed I am to do what I do, be around the people I'm around, and have the opportunities to walk alongside all kinds of people in their life and faith journeys. Does it get any better than this? I don't think so.
In 2012 I started writing again, with things really picking up at the end of July and in to August when I made a personal commitment to try and blog more regularly again. It was during this time that my most-viewed post to date (and one that created a bit of controversy) was published. You can read that post here.
I think for me blogging is something I'm still trying to figure out how it fits with who I am as a person, my work and ministry, and my passionate desire to impact others in a positive way for God's kingdom, glory, and praise. I'm convinced it can be a great medium when used well. I just haven't consistently used it well yet.
Often it's a place where I wrestle with thoughts and questions and doubts. This is akin to thinking out loud and inviting further dialogue and conversation from you. I think we learn best in community together and I love great conversations. Theology, I'm convinced, is a dialogue and dance. So let's dance.
Sometimes it's a place where I teach and preach and theologize. Sorry, that's the pastor-teacher-theologian in me. It can't be helped.
And always I hope, no matter what else SamSpeak does or doesn't do, it's used for God's glory to make some kind of a positive difference in the world and in my life and in the lives of those who read--that somehow, some way, these words and ideas and convictions and challenges and questions and doubts and exhortations and everything else would help us to think better and be better.
I realize I'm not a famous blogger, so maybe that's a big goal. Perhaps even a far-fetched one. Not to mention a bit naive and idealistic. But it's my hope and prayer nevertheless.
Thanks for reading.
In case you're wondering, yes, it feels a bit anti-climactic. There will be no celebrations or anything. But I did want to reflect briefly on my blogging history.
My very first post was published on Wednesday, October 8, 2008. You can read that post here. (Warning, it's not all that great!)
I basically started blogging not long after I became a full-time pastor because (1) I've always enjoyed writing (I actually was first an English major in college and I worked for three years as a staff writer at a newspaper); (2) Some friends of mine were already blogging and it seemed like an interesting medium and cool thing to be part of (thanks Dave and others!) and (3) I had read in a few different places that all pastors should have a blog (even though I happen to know many pastors who don't).
So, technologically impaired as I am, I took the plunge into the world of the blogosphere.
I blogged fairly consistently after I first started in 2008 and throughout 2009. The most posts I've published so far in a single year was in 2009, with 44 posts. I'd like to believe I can do better than that. My personal (though ever unmet) goal has always been two or three posts per week. Maybe this year. But my track record thus far isn't so good.
In July 2009 my wife and I transitioned to our current town and church ministry and then blogging pretty much fell by the wayside for a couple years with only one post in 2010 (why don't I just delete it?) and only four posts in 2011.
It was largely because life was a total blur during that period of transition, change, and getting settled that I didn't blog much. I now regret the fact that I neither blogged nor kept up on my personal journal because we navigated some tough times that God brought us through and we learned all kinds of lessons about trusting God, staying the course, and being faithful in what God had called us to. There were also some incredible high points and amazing displays of God's lavish grace. Even one literal miracle that to this day I cannot explain any other way other than it was a total God thing. (It's how we ended up able to buy our current home!)
I wish I had a written record of some of that. Looking back there was great blogging and journaling fodder. But as I recall, blogging was about the last thing on my mind. Some days I was literally just trying to get through without having a total break-down. Yes, I was that stressed out and depressed. Not always, mind you. But often enough that it mattered and affected me.
Thankfully, I'm mostly out of that funk. Now most days I revel in how blessed I am to do what I do, be around the people I'm around, and have the opportunities to walk alongside all kinds of people in their life and faith journeys. Does it get any better than this? I don't think so.
In 2012 I started writing again, with things really picking up at the end of July and in to August when I made a personal commitment to try and blog more regularly again. It was during this time that my most-viewed post to date (and one that created a bit of controversy) was published. You can read that post here.
I think for me blogging is something I'm still trying to figure out how it fits with who I am as a person, my work and ministry, and my passionate desire to impact others in a positive way for God's kingdom, glory, and praise. I'm convinced it can be a great medium when used well. I just haven't consistently used it well yet.
Often it's a place where I wrestle with thoughts and questions and doubts. This is akin to thinking out loud and inviting further dialogue and conversation from you. I think we learn best in community together and I love great conversations. Theology, I'm convinced, is a dialogue and dance. So let's dance.
Sometimes it's a place where I teach and preach and theologize. Sorry, that's the pastor-teacher-theologian in me. It can't be helped.
And always I hope, no matter what else SamSpeak does or doesn't do, it's used for God's glory to make some kind of a positive difference in the world and in my life and in the lives of those who read--that somehow, some way, these words and ideas and convictions and challenges and questions and doubts and exhortations and everything else would help us to think better and be better.
I realize I'm not a famous blogger, so maybe that's a big goal. Perhaps even a far-fetched one. Not to mention a bit naive and idealistic. But it's my hope and prayer nevertheless.
Thanks for reading.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Dogmatic About NOT Being So Darn Dogmatic
Today I read two fantastic blog posts that got me thinking once again about something I've wrestled with in the past and have yet to come to many definitive conclusions about.
First, there was a great post by Rachel Held Evans on the Scandal of the Evangelical Heart where she discusses the uncomfortable but necessary tension of living as a Christian with difficult questions. Unfortunately, not all Christians, especially it seems, those of the Evangelical variety, are okay with that kind of tension and will do anything to avoid pesky questions about, oh say, God-sanctioned genocide in the Bible and what we're to make of that. Or, perhaps worse than avoiding such pesky questions, are those who offer glib, pat answers.
Then there was an incisive and thoughtful critique of current (disturbing) trends in Evangelical scholarship by leading Evangelical OT scholar Peter Enns. Playing off of Mark Noll's book the Scandal of the Evangelical Mind where Noll famously (notoriously?) asserted: "The scandal of the evangelical mind is that there is not much of an evangelical mind" (by which he meant that there is little serious academic research and engagement with serious, critical scholarship by Evangelicals and that Evangelicals should do better), Enns wrote a blog post on The Deeper Scandal of the Evangelical Mind: We Are Not Allowed to Use It.
A significant issue underlying both Rachel Held Evans' critique on the scandal of the Evangelical heart and Enns' critique on the deeper scandal of the Evangelical mind, is a dogged commitment to certain schemes of dogmatics. As a former professor of mine once quipped, "It is not really a question of being dogmatic or not dogmatic. But rather which dogma is the best dogma with which to be dogmatized."
I used to think he was right. And indeed I cut my teeth in teaching and ministry by teaching dogmatic theology and apologetics. In fact, I had visions of being a dogmatics apologist of sorts; one who discovered and called out all the "heretics." I could be the doctrine police. For me at that time, Christian faith essentially amounted to believing the right things (by my interpretation of what was "right" of course).
I now think very differently about these issues and I praise God that he re-directed my path. I shudder to think about the kind of person I was shaping up to be and would have been had I continued down that road. Ugly. Very ugly indeed.
Still though, as a pastor, people expect you to have answers to their complicated questions. As I tell my friends who are philosophers by trade, "You can debate theories and ideas all day and never come to any conclusions, but my people actually expect me to land the plane somewhere and come up with something!"
And when you do come up with something, it's been my experience that, for the most part (though there are exceptions), people don't want their worldview rocked too much. They don't want their basic assumptions and beliefs and interpretations questioned (at least not too much; a little might be okay, but don't go too far). They simply want you as their pastor to basically affirm what they already believe to be true anyway.
Sometimes I have no problem doing that because I believe and think the Bible teaches what they basically believe. Other times, not so much. And here's where it gets tricky. What is my responsibility as a pastor to simply indoctrinate people with the so-called "party line", versus challenging them to try and see things and think about things differently when I think the "party line" is wrong? How does one balance that? And, of course, there are a host of other factors too, like job security, just to name one!
Whatever else we may say about it, certainly great care, wisdom, and pastoral sensitivity is required. I'm not acting Christ-like if I simply blow up someone's entire worldview. Indeed, I think that's utterly irresponsible.
On the other hand, I'm not sure it's Christ-like to lie about your genuine convictions, or to not at least be open and honest (when appropriate) about things you're wrestling with.
Which gets back to this issue of dogmatics. Clearly doctrine is important. As a pastor I have a biblical mandate to teach right doctrine (Titus 2:1) and to take great care in preaching and teaching Scripture (see 2 Timothy 2:15; 4:1-2). And there is that important thing in Jude 3 about contending for the faith "that was once for all delivered to the saints." There is Church tradition, the Creeds, doctrinal precedents, etc.
But what exactly comprises that core of beliefs of the faith "once for all delivered to the saints" is a bit murky. For example, is the interpretation and belief in a six-literal-24-hour-day creation part of that? For some people it absolutely is. What about the doctrine of penal substituionary atonement? Again, for some, absolutely, yes. What about the doctrine of inerrancy? Again, check. In some circles these (and other doctrines) are clear demarcaters which separate the "sheep" from the "goats."
This is the sort of thing it seems to me Enns was getting at in his blog post noted earlier: When does a dogged commitment to dogmatics prevent us from exploring genuine, honest questions and even coming up with new and different answers?
For my own part I continue to wrestle with these types of things. I tend to be pretty open and honest with people about my own doubts and questions and even my convictions which stray a bit from the standard, accepted "party line." This is simply a personal decision I've made to try and be real, genuine, open, and honest with people. Most times it works out pretty well, though I admit I've been worried a few times.
I've been fortunate to serve in churches with wonderful people where my own doubts and questions aren't seen as threatening, or worse, heretical. In fact, I'd like to hope and believe that that kind of vulnerability gives people permission to express and explore their own doubts and questions. It's my hope that our church community is a safe place where everyone, no matter what their background or experience or where they are in their journey, can explore questions and express doubts. And then we can all learn together in community.
But we can't learn together in community when expressing questions and raising doubts isn't allowed. We can't learn together in community if we never pause to consider whether or not what we have always believed about something is really the best (and biblical) way to think about it. We can't learn together in community if we think we already have all the answers and know all we need to know. We can't learn together in community if we refuse to listen to one another and other views. We can't learn together in community when a commitment to certain dogmatics becomes a prerequisite for being part of the community.
Yes, it's messier. Yes, it's more difficult. Yes, it requires that we live with more tension, and probably (often) more questions than answers. And yes, it requires we live with a very large does of epistemic humility and extending grace to others.
But I can't think of any other way I'd rather do it.
First, there was a great post by Rachel Held Evans on the Scandal of the Evangelical Heart where she discusses the uncomfortable but necessary tension of living as a Christian with difficult questions. Unfortunately, not all Christians, especially it seems, those of the Evangelical variety, are okay with that kind of tension and will do anything to avoid pesky questions about, oh say, God-sanctioned genocide in the Bible and what we're to make of that. Or, perhaps worse than avoiding such pesky questions, are those who offer glib, pat answers.
Then there was an incisive and thoughtful critique of current (disturbing) trends in Evangelical scholarship by leading Evangelical OT scholar Peter Enns. Playing off of Mark Noll's book the Scandal of the Evangelical Mind where Noll famously (notoriously?) asserted: "The scandal of the evangelical mind is that there is not much of an evangelical mind" (by which he meant that there is little serious academic research and engagement with serious, critical scholarship by Evangelicals and that Evangelicals should do better), Enns wrote a blog post on The Deeper Scandal of the Evangelical Mind: We Are Not Allowed to Use It.
A significant issue underlying both Rachel Held Evans' critique on the scandal of the Evangelical heart and Enns' critique on the deeper scandal of the Evangelical mind, is a dogged commitment to certain schemes of dogmatics. As a former professor of mine once quipped, "It is not really a question of being dogmatic or not dogmatic. But rather which dogma is the best dogma with which to be dogmatized."
I used to think he was right. And indeed I cut my teeth in teaching and ministry by teaching dogmatic theology and apologetics. In fact, I had visions of being a dogmatics apologist of sorts; one who discovered and called out all the "heretics." I could be the doctrine police. For me at that time, Christian faith essentially amounted to believing the right things (by my interpretation of what was "right" of course).
I now think very differently about these issues and I praise God that he re-directed my path. I shudder to think about the kind of person I was shaping up to be and would have been had I continued down that road. Ugly. Very ugly indeed.
Still though, as a pastor, people expect you to have answers to their complicated questions. As I tell my friends who are philosophers by trade, "You can debate theories and ideas all day and never come to any conclusions, but my people actually expect me to land the plane somewhere and come up with something!"
And when you do come up with something, it's been my experience that, for the most part (though there are exceptions), people don't want their worldview rocked too much. They don't want their basic assumptions and beliefs and interpretations questioned (at least not too much; a little might be okay, but don't go too far). They simply want you as their pastor to basically affirm what they already believe to be true anyway.
Sometimes I have no problem doing that because I believe and think the Bible teaches what they basically believe. Other times, not so much. And here's where it gets tricky. What is my responsibility as a pastor to simply indoctrinate people with the so-called "party line", versus challenging them to try and see things and think about things differently when I think the "party line" is wrong? How does one balance that? And, of course, there are a host of other factors too, like job security, just to name one!
Whatever else we may say about it, certainly great care, wisdom, and pastoral sensitivity is required. I'm not acting Christ-like if I simply blow up someone's entire worldview. Indeed, I think that's utterly irresponsible.
On the other hand, I'm not sure it's Christ-like to lie about your genuine convictions, or to not at least be open and honest (when appropriate) about things you're wrestling with.
Which gets back to this issue of dogmatics. Clearly doctrine is important. As a pastor I have a biblical mandate to teach right doctrine (Titus 2:1) and to take great care in preaching and teaching Scripture (see 2 Timothy 2:15; 4:1-2). And there is that important thing in Jude 3 about contending for the faith "that was once for all delivered to the saints." There is Church tradition, the Creeds, doctrinal precedents, etc.
But what exactly comprises that core of beliefs of the faith "once for all delivered to the saints" is a bit murky. For example, is the interpretation and belief in a six-literal-24-hour-day creation part of that? For some people it absolutely is. What about the doctrine of penal substituionary atonement? Again, for some, absolutely, yes. What about the doctrine of inerrancy? Again, check. In some circles these (and other doctrines) are clear demarcaters which separate the "sheep" from the "goats."
This is the sort of thing it seems to me Enns was getting at in his blog post noted earlier: When does a dogged commitment to dogmatics prevent us from exploring genuine, honest questions and even coming up with new and different answers?
For my own part I continue to wrestle with these types of things. I tend to be pretty open and honest with people about my own doubts and questions and even my convictions which stray a bit from the standard, accepted "party line." This is simply a personal decision I've made to try and be real, genuine, open, and honest with people. Most times it works out pretty well, though I admit I've been worried a few times.
I've been fortunate to serve in churches with wonderful people where my own doubts and questions aren't seen as threatening, or worse, heretical. In fact, I'd like to hope and believe that that kind of vulnerability gives people permission to express and explore their own doubts and questions. It's my hope that our church community is a safe place where everyone, no matter what their background or experience or where they are in their journey, can explore questions and express doubts. And then we can all learn together in community.
But we can't learn together in community when expressing questions and raising doubts isn't allowed. We can't learn together in community if we never pause to consider whether or not what we have always believed about something is really the best (and biblical) way to think about it. We can't learn together in community if we think we already have all the answers and know all we need to know. We can't learn together in community if we refuse to listen to one another and other views. We can't learn together in community when a commitment to certain dogmatics becomes a prerequisite for being part of the community.
Yes, it's messier. Yes, it's more difficult. Yes, it requires that we live with more tension, and probably (often) more questions than answers. And yes, it requires we live with a very large does of epistemic humility and extending grace to others.
But I can't think of any other way I'd rather do it.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Upcoming Series: Best Reads of 2012
I'm a voracious reader. There's a running joke at the church I pastor that if someone asks me a question I'll more than likely loan them a book from my personal library or point them in the direction of a book that addresses their question.
My friend Jim Stump takes an inventory of his reading at the end each year. Over time he's developed certain criteria which provide a loose structure for the kinds of things he hopes to read in a given year. You can see his thoughts on his reading from 2012 here.
I have yet to develop any kind of intentional structure, system, or rubric like his. Partly because I'm still a graduate student and much of my reading is assigned to me. Partly because there's so much I want to read and that comprises my "to-read" stack I don't know where to begin. And partly because I'm just too lazy.
But I do read lots of stuff: Books, magazine and journal articles, blog posts, etc. So as an exercise in helping me process some of this reading, I thought I would write several posts in the coming months noting books I read in 2012 which for me were "best reads." This series of posts will be entitled Best Reads of 2012. And here I'm defining "best reads" as a book that significantly challenged, molded, or shaped my thinking in some way. These are books which moved me to further thinking, investigation, and research on various issues. And for the most part, they are books with which I'm still in conversation to some extent.
As I'm thinking about this off the top of my head, here are some other criteria, if you will, that makes these books "best reads" for me:
1. Their thesis and ideas are NOT necessarily something I agree with (at least not initially, but I'm always open to being persuaded by a good argument). Although I may agree with them--or end up agreeing with them--this is not necessarily the case.
It seems to me that too many Christians (or perhaps just people in general--but given my profession it seems especially obvious to me among Christians) simply read things they already agree with. And because they're constantly reinforced with what they already believe, it's quite difficult to see things and think about things from a different perspective. While we all tend to lean towards things that reinforce what we already believe to be true (that's called confirmation bias), it's good to intentionally expose ourselves to other ideas. This broadens our own perspective and helps us to think more carefully and clearly about what we think about something.
A fundamental assumption I have is that not only are there lots of things I don't know, but there are lots of things I think I know that I'm wrong about. Reading opposing views helps me see things from a different and larger perspective. It also challenges me to think more carefully and clearly about what I think about the topic and at the very least come to an informed understanding about why someone else might think differently. Often I find that nuances of my own convictions are in flux as I wrestle with good arguments, evidence, and reasoning of differing views.
2. Their thesis and ideas articulate well something I've been thinking about, but haven't been able to personally put together well in my own mind or articulate in a very cogent manner. This happens to me a lot actually (and I suspect to anyone else who reads regularly). A great example of this for me, which I'll talk about in an upcoming post in this series, was Greg Boyd's The Myth of a Christian Nation. That book changed my life.
3. They challenge me to further thinking, investigation, research, and ongoing conversation about whatever the topic was. I see theology as a dialogue and dance. It's a conversation that's never ending; one in which the final authoritative word on any given subject can never quite be given at this side of heaven. To paraphrase something I read somewhere (which I can't remember now!): The day we arrive at the final, definitive, correct conclusion is the day we'll know we got it wrong.
4. A final thing I'll throw out that makes these "best reads" for me is purely pragmatic: They are somehow helpful to me and my work in ministry as a pastor-theologian. In some sense that can be almost anything I read. But I'll limit it to books I read in 2012 that significantly impacted me in some way.
So be on the lookout for posts in this series: Best Reads of 2012. And don't forget to make comments; I love the dialogue and conversation!
My friend Jim Stump takes an inventory of his reading at the end each year. Over time he's developed certain criteria which provide a loose structure for the kinds of things he hopes to read in a given year. You can see his thoughts on his reading from 2012 here.
I have yet to develop any kind of intentional structure, system, or rubric like his. Partly because I'm still a graduate student and much of my reading is assigned to me. Partly because there's so much I want to read and that comprises my "to-read" stack I don't know where to begin. And partly because I'm just too lazy.
But I do read lots of stuff: Books, magazine and journal articles, blog posts, etc. So as an exercise in helping me process some of this reading, I thought I would write several posts in the coming months noting books I read in 2012 which for me were "best reads." This series of posts will be entitled Best Reads of 2012. And here I'm defining "best reads" as a book that significantly challenged, molded, or shaped my thinking in some way. These are books which moved me to further thinking, investigation, and research on various issues. And for the most part, they are books with which I'm still in conversation to some extent.
As I'm thinking about this off the top of my head, here are some other criteria, if you will, that makes these books "best reads" for me:
1. Their thesis and ideas are NOT necessarily something I agree with (at least not initially, but I'm always open to being persuaded by a good argument). Although I may agree with them--or end up agreeing with them--this is not necessarily the case.
It seems to me that too many Christians (or perhaps just people in general--but given my profession it seems especially obvious to me among Christians) simply read things they already agree with. And because they're constantly reinforced with what they already believe, it's quite difficult to see things and think about things from a different perspective. While we all tend to lean towards things that reinforce what we already believe to be true (that's called confirmation bias), it's good to intentionally expose ourselves to other ideas. This broadens our own perspective and helps us to think more carefully and clearly about what we think about something.
A fundamental assumption I have is that not only are there lots of things I don't know, but there are lots of things I think I know that I'm wrong about. Reading opposing views helps me see things from a different and larger perspective. It also challenges me to think more carefully and clearly about what I think about the topic and at the very least come to an informed understanding about why someone else might think differently. Often I find that nuances of my own convictions are in flux as I wrestle with good arguments, evidence, and reasoning of differing views.
2. Their thesis and ideas articulate well something I've been thinking about, but haven't been able to personally put together well in my own mind or articulate in a very cogent manner. This happens to me a lot actually (and I suspect to anyone else who reads regularly). A great example of this for me, which I'll talk about in an upcoming post in this series, was Greg Boyd's The Myth of a Christian Nation. That book changed my life.
3. They challenge me to further thinking, investigation, research, and ongoing conversation about whatever the topic was. I see theology as a dialogue and dance. It's a conversation that's never ending; one in which the final authoritative word on any given subject can never quite be given at this side of heaven. To paraphrase something I read somewhere (which I can't remember now!): The day we arrive at the final, definitive, correct conclusion is the day we'll know we got it wrong.
4. A final thing I'll throw out that makes these "best reads" for me is purely pragmatic: They are somehow helpful to me and my work in ministry as a pastor-theologian. In some sense that can be almost anything I read. But I'll limit it to books I read in 2012 that significantly impacted me in some way.
So be on the lookout for posts in this series: Best Reads of 2012. And don't forget to make comments; I love the dialogue and conversation!
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