Nothing appeals to my appreciation of a slow, dramatic crescendo quite like Advent. Here we have the most profound of dichotomies--dark and light--juxtaposed within an ancient and beautiful framework of Church history and tradition. It is the month-long celebration of hope piercing through, the beginning of Life's conquest over Death.
We are coming up on something very meaningful, and for more important reasons than just the nice symbolism of it all. This thing we celebrate--this glorious thing--is human history. And because it's part of our past, it's also part of our present and our future.
I was first directed to this idea when reading N.T. Wright's "Surprised by Hope" In it, he notes that the resurrection of Christ is a historical event, something that happened in our world, so its effects must also be dealt with today. The book develops this idea, and others, very fully and inspirationally. You should read it.
A historical reality has to affect our present reality one way or another. To say otherwise would be to say the effects of the fall of Rome can be ignored, or the effects of the Holocaust can be ignored. We know that's not true; even those of us far removed from historical events of this magnitude study them in school, and they have brought our culture to its present state. They affect us somehow. Of course, you could argue the premise, if you wish, and say that the resurrection of Christ is myth--nothing more than a fairy tale or religion-starter fodder, and certainly not historical reality. But you have to recognize in making that argument, you are still affected by the idea and the claim to the contrary, to the point where you are opposing it. My starting point is always going to be a worldview which accepts the reality of Christ's resurrection. I can't make sense out of anything else in this world without it. Consequently, and necessarily, my current reality is also affected by the past reality of Christ's resurrection. I can't ignore it, in the same way I can't ignore any of the other events that have brought our world to its present state.
Quite naturally, Christ's birth carries with it similar implications. Can it be ignored? Not if you believe he was actually born (and most people seem to). But it can be trivialized, and that is the most clear and present danger, as I see it. Instead of concentrating our minds on the reality of Christ's birth and its consequences for humankind, we busy ourselves with its shadow--the abstraction, the symbolism. It's not about Christ anymore, so much as it's about the Christmas spirit, generosity, good-will, family, what have you.
This is one of the reasons we will be observing Advent again this year at ROL. It's a chance to go against our cultural thirst for instant gratification. It's a chance to slow down and reflect on the reality of Christ's birth and what it introduced into a fallen world. More importantly, it's a chance for us to go beyond paying lip service to keeping Christ central during the entire holiday season.
Mark your calendars. Nov. 27 is the first Sunday of Advent. I look forward to observing it with you and Christians around the globe.
Jeff
05 November 2011
24 July 2011
It's not who you are
Does the American Church struggle with a guilt complex?
We are not persecuted, and on top of that, we live in a rich and free nation. Yes, we have concerns, but daily survival and safety aren't generally among them. If that thought doesn't make us somber, it should. But somberness is different than guilt, and I think too often guilt is the prevailing emotion we have when we consider our relative position in the world. And the problem with guilt is it usually motivates you to do the wrong thing, and even if it doesn't, it motivates you to do the right thing for the wrong reason.
Reflecting on this has reinforced a view I've been refining for some years now, starting with what you might call an axiom: it's not who you are, it's who you're becoming that matters. We know redemption is a process. That should tell us that no matter what our stage, station, or status, there's always a next step, which further tells us that success, from a more eternal perspective, probably has a lot more to do with the distance between our starting point and our ending point than it does with anything else.
I think back to Paul's words in 1st Cor. 7: "Let each one remain in the same calling in which he was called." It has nothing to do with our starting point--our initial endowment. Otherwise, Paul would have encouraged us to improve our environment, our status. Instead, he tells us to stay where we are, whether enslaved or free. He's pointing out this same principle.
Yes, I am deeply horrified by stories of persecution and want around the world, just as I am by all reports of senseless violence, pain and suffering. And I do feel obligated to improve those situations whenever and however I'm able. But I'm not sure guilt is the most appropriate response, given that we who were called while free are Christ's slave.
We are not persecuted, and on top of that, we live in a rich and free nation. Yes, we have concerns, but daily survival and safety aren't generally among them. If that thought doesn't make us somber, it should. But somberness is different than guilt, and I think too often guilt is the prevailing emotion we have when we consider our relative position in the world. And the problem with guilt is it usually motivates you to do the wrong thing, and even if it doesn't, it motivates you to do the right thing for the wrong reason.
Reflecting on this has reinforced a view I've been refining for some years now, starting with what you might call an axiom: it's not who you are, it's who you're becoming that matters. We know redemption is a process. That should tell us that no matter what our stage, station, or status, there's always a next step, which further tells us that success, from a more eternal perspective, probably has a lot more to do with the distance between our starting point and our ending point than it does with anything else.
I think back to Paul's words in 1st Cor. 7: "Let each one remain in the same calling in which he was called." It has nothing to do with our starting point--our initial endowment. Otherwise, Paul would have encouraged us to improve our environment, our status. Instead, he tells us to stay where we are, whether enslaved or free. He's pointing out this same principle.
Yes, I am deeply horrified by stories of persecution and want around the world, just as I am by all reports of senseless violence, pain and suffering. And I do feel obligated to improve those situations whenever and however I'm able. But I'm not sure guilt is the most appropriate response, given that we who were called while free are Christ's slave.
28 June 2011
Personal Update
As I reviewed the quantity and voice of some of my past posts on this blog, I couldn't help but pick up on the progression my thoughts have undergone since the blog's inception. What started as impassioned, verbose attempts to draw out discussion and opinion from other individuals soon became nothing more than a bulletin board of scribbled thoughts, and less frequent, less readable, and frankly, less accessible material from the few sermons I've preached.
What I noticed most was the waning frequency of the posts. It's amusing to me, because the blog has become exactly the opposite of what I had envisioned in those first weeks, and has in many ways, shared the fate of thousands of other blogs whose authors couldn't quite keep up with them. I comment on this not to apologize for or explain the lack of consistency; I'm really just fascinated to observe my attitudes and opinions within the last few years.
Particularly in the last 18 months, I have been subjecting myself to one of the most intense, exhausting probes to date into my beliefs. I tend to be a bit skeptical, so life (and maybe faith) naturally takes a bit more work for me. Some of you out there with similar personalities can appreciate that; I'm definitely used to this, and I expect it from myself and can often compensate. But I'm not quite sure even I was ready for the level of questioning I threw at myself. Maybe when I look back on this period of my life I'll see the fruit of it all, but right now, a year-and-a-half into it, I feel unbelievably tired.
So, when I read posts with a "pt. 1" in the title and no pt. 2 follow-up, and when I sense the shift in tone from colloquial and friendly to cold and academic, I have to chuckle a bit, because I know the backstory. I've felt a bit like a math student, who has always accepted as given the operations and theorems behind some of the most basic mathematical truths, and now has to prove them.
I thought mentioning these things might give some context to the blog. The message on Fathers' Day caught my attention because Doyle brought up some interesting points on questions and doubts that I found a little encouraging in the midst of this big project I seem to have on my hands. If you have some time and want to listen, you can find his sermon on the church website, entitled "Storms of Life" dated 6/19/2011:
26 June 2011
Did the blog end?
No. . .
But I have definitely forgotten about it. I've also been experiencing an extreme poverty of creative thought for about the last 6 months. My ideas have been sporadic, incoherent, and generally uninteresting.
So here's my attempt at performing CPR on our blog. Maybe I'll have something to say within the next few days or so.
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