The Reconciliation

In the process of joining a a church several years ago, the pastor wanted to interview me. Since it was a Lutheran church, I assumed he wanted to know just how Lutheran I was or was interested in becoming, so I came in pretty nonchalant.
    After exchanging essential pleasantries, he hit me with an obvious, yet completely unexpected question: “Who is Jesus Christ to you?”
    I sat there, eyes blinking . . . lump in my throat rising . . . tears welling up. I cried.
    “I guess your tears mean Jesus Christ means a lot to you?”
    I nodded, inarticulately blubbering through an apology for the awkwardness of it all.
   
    Clearly, Christianity has to have objective qualities to determine the truth or falsity of its claims, yet it’s a highly personal, highly relational, and therefore, a highly subjective belief system as well. Belief system does not do it justice. Christians actually enter into a reconciled relationship with God through Jesus Christ. And as anyone with any relationships knows, a relationship goes quite far beyond mental ascent or creedal acquiescence.
    Essential to my relationship with God is the death of Jesus Christ, God-in-flesh, the God-man, Son of God. It seems strange to suggest my relationship with God is dependent upon His sacrificial death, yet if God is God and I am me (which is the case), for the relationship to exist, he must initiate. And he has.  And that initiation involved a cost he was willing to pay.
    While I fully acknowledge “that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them” (2 Corinthians 5:19), in this post, I will not so much be addressing the world’s or other people’s reconciliation to God. Instead, I will be focusing on God’s and my reconciliation.
    To be reconciled implies that the relationship was previously broken. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I’ve been born into a fallen humanity, a humanity estranged from God. For me, that estrangement expressed itself in a distorted identity, wherein I believed accomplishments, achievements, relationships with the right people, having an enviable guy would somehow make me somebody. Of course, it was an identity based on the ever-shifting sands of endless comparisons.
    Beyond the distorted identity, justification was another estrangement symptom. My wrongs had to be excused, rationalized, justified, explained away somehow. My hatreds, cruel words, seeing others as means to ends, my negligence and omissions--I had to weave a victimized rationale for it all, even resorting to the standard, “what’s the big deal?”  All this so I could still apply the term “good” to myself--a sociological construct reached again only via comparison.
    Of course, to some degree I was a victim. Other sinners had hurt me. At times the fear of being the victim encouraged me to be the victimizer or the “go-alonger,” not actively participating in an injustice, yet simply ignoring it.  The approval of the identity-bestowers surrounding me carried the day.
    I also remember the fear, the fear of the loss of meaning if I failed or lost approval somehow--the symptom of insecure vulnerability--as if the weight of my life was resting on a tenuous point, like an inverted triangle.
    Back then, I would not have expressed the above as symptoms of estrangement from God, even though I knew the concept.  I just believed it was life. I didn’t link it to anything to do with him. Most Christians in the inherited-belief-system mindset sadly think this way. Their faith is the occasional church thing with no internalization. Yet what is Christianity if its not internalized?
    Needless to say, there are more symptoms of estrangement from God than I’ve listed. We live the global, economic, sociological, political, national, natural symptoms. Others live with different individual symptoms. Here, I just wanted to center more on my journey.
    God becoming human in Jesus Christ, suffering and dying on the cross is perhaps an unexpected cure--salvation is the word. Yet at multiple levels, his life and death have been and more and more continue to become my salvation. Please note that I’m not particularly focusing on life beyond the grave here. I’m speaking of my now.
    In responding affirmingly to God’s initiation of peace and reconciliation, I’ve noticed and continue to experience the following transformations:
    I’ve received the gift of identity, the identity of the beloved, the ever-increasing awareness that I’m loved just as I am . . . and not just because a kind, loving family may have said that--their opinion would be clearly biased in my favor. Though that's warm and healthy, for something so vital, I'd prefer something more objective: God’s coming to earth in human form and shedding his blood for our reconciliation establishes my identity as the beloved. “For you know that it was not with perishable things like silver or gold that you were redeemed [...], but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect” (I Peter 1:17-18). To know that no amount of success or failure, no amount of rejection or approval alters my core identity as someone worth his life is salvation indeed. As a result, it’s freeing to get off the comparison track. I cannot improve on or lessen my identity regardless of how well I compare in any venue. I value the cross as the most concrete, absolute expression of my self-esteem.  I’m now free to be me.
    My identity is further expressed as I step out from under the weight of my justifications. He has provided for my justification, so I can let go of the rationalizations and face myself frankly in his love: I’m not inherently good, and I’m not putting myself down here. I’m just being honest. If I say I’m good, well that's motivated by comparisons against the broader culture; however, God’s standard for loving motives, words, and deeds is volumes higher than anyone surrounding me. So I can delude myself with my purported "goodness,"but all the designation does is craft my need for rationalizations so I can hang onto the “good” tag. It’s more realistic and honest to be frank about it: I’m not inherently good, but I have inherit worth. I’m a sinner and my rationalizations only distort reality. I need forgiveness. I need genuine justification. I value the cross because it melds the dual realities of my sin and my belovedness. I’m now free to face me.
    While yes, the cross does affirm that I am a victimizer--Jesus did die for my sin, it also affirms that I’ve been a victim. In affirming that my sins against others matters, it also demonstrates that others sins against me matters.  While we like to downplay our own sins, we tend to “up-play” the sins of others against us. In Christ, both are just as real. Requesting forgiveness never equates to "what's the big deal?" Accepting forgiveness is never saying, “it was no big deal that you hurt me.” Actually, forgiveness is agreeing to absorb the pain of the sin and not exact it from the offender. This is precisely what Christ did: He absorbed the pain of our sin, so not  to exact it from us. Christ died for my sins and for the sins of others against me. Therefore, I’m called to forgive. What greater price would I have the offender(s) pay? Is the blood of Christ not good enough?  And while salvation lies in my being forgiven, it’s inextricably linked to my forgiveness of others. I value the cross because it represents my forgiveness and my forgiveness of others.
    I’ve found it freeing to shift the weight of my life onto Him--it’s peaceful to live without fear, without anxiety. This is not suggest the temptation isn’t there, nor is it to suggest the simplistic notion that placing faith in Christ will eradicate disorders of anxiety, though I’m confident it helps. His presence ensures meaning’s bedrock, even if my intended meaning falters. It’s quite freeing to know I possess something I cannot lose, a foundation that sustains all the vulnerable parts of my world: I’m free to treasure them, yet not insist on needing them. I can affirm and enjoy life’s temporal qualities, knowing there’s an eternal essence behind it all: “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him gives me strength” (Philippians 4:12-13).
    God has offered me peace with him, reconciliation to him. He has initiated. He has absorbed the cost of forgiveness. The absolute best decision of my life was to accept. Indeed, my brief sojourn in the land of estrangement confirms my never going back to that.

    So as the pastor asked me, I ask you: Who is Jesus Christ to you?
   

Consider the Source

I’ve been plagued with teaching composition, aka “comp.” Whether it’s been a college prep course during my high school teaching years or online or at the local community college, I’ve taught it year-in, year-out for fifteen years. A necessity of the course is the oft dreaded research essay, wherein students have to find reliable, credible source materials to support their contentions. Consequently, it would be duplicitous of me to teach source reliability and authorial credibility and not value those qualities in the texts that support my belief system.
    Since I believe in Jesus Christ as both Savior and Lord, clearly it’s reasonable and expected for me to face inquiries, whether my own or those of others, regarding the integrity of the New Testament text collection. Yet of intrigue to me, some educated, thoughtful, esteemed people in my world open to reading and ascribing reasonable trust to other ancient historical material withhold that reasoned openness in considering the New Testament. Therefore, I have a couple of requests:  First, do contemplate your own openness to this material--questioning with a view to getting to the truth of it is admirable, whereas a questioning obduracy reveals more about the reader’s credibility than that of the text’s. Secondly, I’m not an expert on analyzing historical documents. Still, I do wish to provide my reasoning for deeming the New Testament a credible, reliable collection.
    Four different testimonies regarding Jesus Christ-- “the gospels”--and several letters from early disciples/apostles--most frequently St. Paul--to early Christian communities make up the New Testament “library.” While the letters and the content of the gospel accounts merit much discussion and clearly play a role in establishing credibility, I will try to focus this brief discussions to the textual credibility of the four gospels, each simply entitled with an authorial name: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.
    It’s certainly fair to question the early church’s inclusion of these four gospels (and the letters) to the exclusion of other purported accounts of Christ (and other early church materials). Also, some question the motivations of church authorities--once having gained enough political power--in simply selecting texts because those texts would support certain political agendas. First, the inclusion of these four gospels was a matter of their being recorded nearer the actual event: all four gospels were written prior to 100 AD, whereas other purported accounts of Christ’s life were written well after that, some up to 200-300 years. Early church leaders understood the necessity of proximity to occurrence and included these four and understandably excluded others--their distance from the event corrupted the account.  Also, though the church did not develop corporate or established status until the fourth century, early Christian communities had been circulating these gospels and letters--undoubtedly, some other materials were lost--for a couple centuries prior to an organized formalizing of the canon. Therefore, when the powers-that-be selected New Testament content, much of their work was already done since local churches had already deemed the included texts credible.
    And regarding the Church’s gradual and unfortunate organization of a political agenda, since when has the words of the Bible ever really stood in its way when the Church has tragically indulged darkness? History reveals that it was more efficient to simply ignore or malign the biblical text than take the time to manipulate (including/excluding) content in order to justify the injustices.
    Even though the four gospels reflect the earliest dating in relationship to events, still some time had passed since Christ’s death in 33AD and the timing of the writing of the gospels some years later. However, it’s impressively noteworthy as Gregory Boyd and Paul Rhodes Eddy have stated the Gospels “together with the whole New Testament, have far better textual attestation than any other ancient work.” They go on to discuss the “roughly 5,500 ancient Greek manuscripts of the New Testament, either in fragments or in whole,” which is certainly far more copies than any other ancient historical work, for example only nine copies exist of Josephus’s Jewish War and only ten of Livy’s Roman history. Further, the dating of copies in relationship to actual events is even more impressive when we consider that “the earliest copy of Homer’s Iliad we possess dates approximately nine hundred years after the original--and that is remarkably good by ancient standards” (Lord or Legend? Wrestling with the Jesus Dilemma, 2007). Indeed, copies of the New Testament are dated remarkably far closer to the originals than that.
    Still, it’s reasonable to question the expanse of time, albeit brief, between the documenting and the events. In response, two factors: first, some credible consideration has been given to likelihood that other written attestations existed prior to the writing of the four gospels we have, which may have provided source material to these authors. However, it's worthwhile to note that given the early dating of their initial accounts, these four were highly likely to be eye-witnesses of these events. Indeed, all four are mentioned in other New Testament materials as participants in the events. Secondly, while our modern world indulges in journalism-as-events-occur, the ancient world did record and pass on history orally, and as I’ve mentioned before, it seems chronocentric to suggest that as a result only the modern world has a handle on history: in fact, due to their “historical interest and the community’s checks and balances, some experts in the field of oral traditions have gone so far as to argue that, at times, history preserved in orally dominant communities may actually be more reliable than history written down by elite individual historians in modern contexts” (Boyd and Eddy). As the “author” delivered the content orally, the audience could challenge, refine, and hold the speaker accountable. With writing, the text is there to stay, for a time at least, due to its inherit lack of audience immediacy. Therefore, the combined close proximity of the author to the actual events, the potential use of another earlier written source, and the reliability of oral contributions altogether provide for the gospels’ credibility.
    Be that as it may, a thoughtful read of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John does reveal discrepancies. Some is due to each account being structured to specific readers: while the ancient world valued historical veracity, flexibility in organization and inclusion/exclusion of some material were subject to audience targets. For example, Matthew is written for a Jewish audience; hence, the extensive inclusion of Old Testament referencing; Mark, the shortest of the Gospels may have had more of Roman audience in mind since Christ says the least in this account, while one action after another is described--more palatable to an action-oriented Roman crowd; Luke, the educated gentile, a doctor in fact, takes the most historical route even indicating he had done some research, and it’s not surprising his focus particularly on Jesus’ healings; lastly, John has that distinct Greek appeal, beginning his account with logos, and quotes Jesus the most, thereby appealing to those more interest in oral presentation and argument. So some discrepancy is due to differing authorial angles. Nevertheless, the essentials remain intact in all four. Lastly, some account disagreements exist simply because they are told through different eyes.  Frankly, the fact that these disparities exist attest to the gospels’ overall credibility. We are all familiar with differing eyewitness angles on crimes and accidents. Four identical accounts suggests collaborative conspiracy to me. Four differing accounts with agreement on the essentials provides not only credible evidence but also the integrity of that fallible human stamp.
    Although much more could be said and will be in future posts when dealing with New Testament content, of concluding consideration for now, it is also fair to ask if other ancient materials outside the New Testament confirm the events included. Certainly, scholars in this regard develop this miles more than my best efforts could; however, Boyd and Eddy, who are among those scholars, discuss at some length the following ancient writers in whose writing New Testament material appears: Pliny, Tacitus, Josephus, Lucian, Thallus, Suetonius, and Celsus. Those are certainly enough for a solid endorsement of New Testament credibility while keeping in mind that “the vast majority of all that was written in the ancient world has perished in the sands of time” (Boyd and Eddy). If not, perhaps the list would be even longer.
    Of course, it is always good to thoughtfully question these texts. Still, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John and the remainder of the New Testament as well as the Old have proven credible enough to me that those texts may now question my credibility as a human being: what do they have to say about my humanity? About humanity in general? About the meaning of life?  About human motives, hopes, fears, goodness, evil? Love? Is there hope for healing? Redemption? Salvation? Restoration?
    The Bible can certainly withstand questioning. It’s a complex, beautiful, human and divine text that has stood for centuries. Question it. But do not neglect reading it. Unless you wish to avoid its questions for you.
    If you’re open, consider reading the Luke or John--my favorites.
   

Muddying the Higher Ways, Higher Thoughts

    During my teaching days, my colleagues and I would occasionally run into a parent who would scan through our assigned texts, locate something they found offensive while neglecting the context and overall theme, and then demand that either the text not be taught or their child be offered an alternative, more acceptable text. We would be quite frustrated, if not exasperated, in our efforts to explain the legitimacy of our texts to those who decided based on a cursory flip-through that their child should not be exposed to such compromised material. Keeping in mind that it was typically the religiously conservative parents who offered these arguments, I found the situation ironic because the Bible, particularly the Old Testament, includes material far more disconcerting than anything ever presented in the texts we selected.
    Be that as it may, of further irony to me is that those deemed liberal or purportedly more open among us would often approach the Bible in a similar fashion to these parents: locate the disconcerting portion, or just hear of it, regardless of context or broader theme, and decide the whole thing ought not be read. If that dismissive approach is not available, then simply excusing it as too old, or written too far after the events discussed could also suffice as reasons for keeping the Bible closed.
    Regardless of belief, intellectual integrity requests a more thoughtful and thorough response than either of those options. As a text central to my most foundational beliefs, I do wish to approach the Bible with integrity and candor. In this post, I will discuss my reasons for finding the Old Testament credible. The next will focus on the New Testament. And in two short posts, not remotely as much will be said as could be.
    First, as it regards the entire Bible, one vote for its credibility is its multiple and varied authors--approximately forty--spanning a few thousand years of history. Therefore, when someone says they do not believe the Bible, it’s a little like saying they don’t believe a portion of the library. It is more reasonable to find specific portions more questionable than other portions. This coverage of time and authorial variety suggest to me thematic credibility, a God who has been faithful through generations. A contrasting example: Consider the Quran, which God purportedly revealed through the angel Gabriel to the prophet Muhammed from 609-632. While I readily offer my esteem to any seekers of God, Muslim or otherwise, one author claiming divine inspiration for a span of 20 years does not really hold credibility against the Bible with its multiple witnesses and historical vastness.
    While we’re on the topic of other texts, another vote of confidence in the Old Testament’s reliability is its contrast to other ancient texts.  The ancients, at least the ancient Hebrews, had an appreciation of real time in contrast to storied time: the once upon a time notion. They believed they were recording actual history, where in contrast to the ancient Sumerian series of poems, Epic of Gilgamesh, while their authors and listeners may have believed the tale, it is certainly not presented with historical qualities of the early books of the Old Testament, complete with particular historical names of places, people,  and the ubiquitous genealogies. While the Old Testament may contain some epic stories, it certainly is not crafted like an epic tale.
    One thing the Sumerians had going for them that the early Israelites did not: they could write. This capacity would not arrive for the nomadic Israelites for some time. Therefore, they relied on oral tradition. The stories of the early Old Testament were shared orally for a time before they recorded. We moderns, who have evolved to be so dependent upon the written record, immediately question the validity of such traditions. However, that questioning only reveals our chronocentricity. It’s ridiculous to assume that orally-based cultures would not value credibility and reliability in their accounts. In fact, it’s reasonable to believe they may have been more attentive to facts, that those entrusted with those histories, felt the burden of accurate accounting. The eventual invention of the writing instrument and papyrus was a relief.
    Of further contrast to other ancient cultures, Sumerian and Egyptian included, a transcendent, previously unknown God initiates a relationship with humans. This God transcends all the localized deities with which every people group populating the ancient world at the time were familiar. These gods had domain or held sway over households, small communities, and larger regions if one people’s god could defeat the neighboring people’s god through battle. However, God extends a call to one man, Abraham, and his family, requesting him to leave all that is familiar to him. Obviously, it takes multiple generations, continuing even now to adjust to the reality of this God from beyond us. Hence, the messy complexity that is the Old Testament.
    Paul Copan in Is God a Moral Monster: Making Sense of the Old Testament God (2011) provides analogous situations in our country’s gradual adjustment from the racism embedded in slavery to the notion of equality and freedom for all (in some ways this struggle still continues) as well as in our efforts to export democracy to countries unfamiliar with such an idea. It will take generations for them to adjust to the possibility. He then invites us to the ancient Near East, a culture completely unrecognizable to the contemporary eye “with all its strange ways and assumptions” and social structures oppressive and frightening: the Sumerians, for all their capacities in writing and technology, were renowned for ritual rape of both boys and girls in their hopes for crop fertility. It is with people of this type of culture the transcendent God initiates relationship.
    This both testifies to the truth and complexity of the Old Testament. It is decidedly unlikely individuals of this culture would have fabricated a God entirely transcendent above nature, who forbids them idol worship because of that fact, who strictly forbids human sacrifices--sexual or otherwise, and who gradually invites them to a system of law that has contributed to the sanity of the Western world we have inherited. As Thomas Cahill notes in The Gift of the Jews: “This God is the intiator: he encounters them; they do not encounter him. He begins the dialogue, and he will see it through. This God is profoundly different from them, not their projection or their pet, not the usual mythological creature whose intentions can be read in auguries or who can be controlled by human rituals.”
    And yet, this difference provides the complexity and conflict that is the Old Testament. Copan continues: “Within this context, God raised up a covenant nation and gave the people laws to live by; he helped to create a culture for them. In doing so, he adapted his ideals to a people whose attitudes and actions were influenced by deeply flawed structures.” He is a “God who accommodates,” who is willing to have his own name muddied because he reaches out to muddy people.  So the Old Testament saga begins through Israel’s actual history of gradually learning to adjust to this transcendent God, to the cries and songs of the Psalms, to the wit of the wisdom texts,  to the cry of the prophets for justice, who call not only ancient Israel but all of us to the understanding that loving this God will always result in loving others.
    Yet we never quite get it. Why? Because as the prophet Isaiah recounts the Lord, “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts” (55:9). For those of us who believe, the journey of acclimating to this God of love never ends.