But God Knows Better

Lately, for various reasons, I have been seeking to learn more about Islam. To that end, one of the books I have recently finished reading is Ingrid Mattson’s The Story of the Qu’ran. In a chapter on the diversity of methods that Muslim scholars use to derive moral and legal interpretations from their sacred text, she points out that there is a Muslim tradition of ending any interpretation of a Quranic passage with the qualifying statement, “But God knows better.” They do this as a way of acknowledging that no matter how confident they are that their interpretation is right, there is the possibility that they are wrong, and because of that, they should stay open to seriously considering other views.

But God knows better.

This is an affirmation that should echo in our hearts and permeate the tone of our conversations about what matters most in life, especially theological matters. I have learned this the hard way. 

As I think back about the ways I have changed over the past fifteen years of being in ministries of various kinds, I remember how many of the things I once believed so strongly I now think are deeply mistaken. When you are open to life, rarely do you stay the same. 

As you experience new territories, you discover that your mental maps need some revision.

I used to think that the Bible contained clear answers to all our pressing questions, and that the only reason some people didn’t see things the way I do is because their sin or ignorance clouded their understanding.

But God knew better.

I used to believe that women were inherently unfit to be leaders in the church because of a couple of sentences from the apostle Paul.

But God knew better.

I used to believe that all non-Christians were headed towards an eternity of punishment for not knowing about Jesus.

But God knew better.

I used to believe that gay people are sick and that God hates them because of their sin.

But God knew better.

I used to believe that evolution was a conspiracy created by God-hating secularists to discredit religion.

But God knew better.

I used to think that grace was for other people, but that I would never really need it.

But God knew better.

I have changed my mind enough times, and about enough things, to finally realize that God knows better. This isn't to say I used to be wrong but now I have it all figured out. Because I now believe that God knew better with respect to many of my prior beliefs, I am much more open to the possibility that God knows better with respect to my current beliefs. 

In a lecture a few years ago, I heard the New Testament scholar N.T. Wright say that he believes he is probably wrong about one-third of the things he believes at any given time, the problem is that he doesn't know what beliefs fall into that category. So it goes for anyone who is honest. 

This does not mean I have given up on forming solid beliefs, and that I now live with relativism and indifference. There are many things I believe with conviction and passion, and try (with varying degrees of success) to actually live out.

But as close as I hold my beliefs to my heart, I try to hold them with open hands, because at the end of the day, and until the coming of the Day...

God knows better.

“For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.” – The Apostle Paul (1 Corinthians 13:12)

Moving, Mist, and the Meaning of Life

Andrea and I have lived in eight different places over our thirteen years together. We are used to moving. That doesn't really make it any easier. 

I guess each move gets a little harder. More things to accumulate and more emotional attachments to more things. 

I've accumulated nearly two thousand books about the Bible, theology and baseball. That takes along time to pack, especially when you feel the need to thumb through each one as you lay them to rest in the box. 

Yesterday, we gave away a little kitchen that the girls have now outgrown. Andrea cried about it, and I pretended like it wasn't that big of a deal. It is just a big chunk of plastic. But I wiped away a tear when she wasn't looking. 

There is a book in the Old Testament that is very different from all the other books. It is called Ecclesiastes. Many people have interpreted it as articulating a very cynical and pessimistic view of life. It surveys the full range of human experience in a very raw and honest way. I like it a lot. 

One of the frequent refrains throughout the book is, as it is put in many translations, "All is meaningless" or "All is vanity." These translations, however, are interpretations that I think miss the mark of what the ancient sage who wrote Ecclesiastes is getting at. The Hebrew word often translated as "meaningless" is hevel, and it literally means mist, fog, or smoke.

One could read that as saying that because life is mist- fleeting and temporary- it is without meaning. One could also read that as saying that because life is like mist, each moment is infinitely meaningful and precious. Depends on how you want to look at it. I think the old teacher takes the latter view, because he repeatedly says things like this:

Ecclesiastes 2:24: There is nothing better for mortals than to eat and drink, and find enjoyment in their toil. This also, I saw, is from the hand of God.

Ordinary days- getting the mail, helping your kids with homework, doing your work, going to the grocery store, getting upset with your family, cleaning the house, watching The Daily Show, worrying about your kids, making love, eating supper (not necessarily in that order)- are from God. 

They are all hevel. They are all fleeting and temporary. They are all mist. 

Infinitely meaningful mist.

Being in a state of moving reminds me that the meaning of life is found in the midst of the mist. 

I hope I can remember that once we get settled in the next place. 

Holy Saturday: Jesus vs. Hell

The resurrection icon of the Eastern Orthodox Church reflects their
theology of Christ's decent into hell in order to set the captive free.

Many Christians believe that on "Holy Saturday" Jesus descended into hell in order to proclaim a release for the captives. The following is an excerpt from Flames of Love where I briefly address the main biblical support for this doctrine.

There are two related texts in the New Testament that have traditionally been believed by many to be the foundational biblical support for the belief that there will be opportunities for receiving salvation in the afterlife. These passages are found in 1 Peter: 

1 Peter 3:18-20 For Christ also suffered for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, in order to bring you to God. He was put to death in the flesh, but made alive in the spirit, in which also he went and made a proclamation to the spirits in prison, who in former times did not obey, when God waited patiently in the days of Noah, during the building of the ark, in which a few, that is, eight persons, were saved through water.                 

1 Peter 4:6 For this is the reason the gospel was proclaimed even to the dead, so that, though they had been judged in the flesh as everyone is judged, they might live in the spirit as God does.[1]

There is hardly anything noncontroversial about these passages, and if this was all we had to go on to support the possibility for conversion in the afterlife, then the argument would admittedly be weak. While I think that the best argument for such a possibility is the broader consideration of the character of God’s steadfast love, these passages are not without some force of their own. There is tremendous debate among biblical scholars about the precise meaning of these passages, and the prospect of a consensus seems impossible.[2] The three main interpretive questions can be summed up like this: Who did Christ preach to? What was the effect of the preaching? Was this a one-time event or something that continues to happen? Multiple answers have been given to each question, and those various answers have been put together in different ways to draw diverse overall messages from this passage. If you ever read someone claiming what “all scholars agree on” about this passage, they are making it up, I promise you. All scholarly commentators on this passage, wherever they are on the theological spectrum, acknowledge that this passage is one of the most opaque and difficult to interpret in the New Testament. Any honest interpreter of this passage will add their agreement with the evaluation given by Martin Luther: “This is a strange text and certainly a more obscure passage than any other passage in the New Testament. I still do not know for sure what the apostle meant.”[3]

We will not wade into all of the details of the debate, because I am not arguing that this passage must be interpreted along the lines of Christ offering salvation to people in hell. However, I do think that one can legitimately interpret this passage from First Peter as teaching this. This interpretation enjoys as much scholarly support as any of the others, and it is in accordance with a very large branch of church tradition going back to the beginning of the church that has concluded from these texts that the author is making an affirmation of the rescuing power of Christ to reach even into the depths of hell.[4]  

With the previous caveats in mind about the interpretive difficulties of this passage, let me briefly share why I think that this passage teaches the decent of Christ into hell for the purpose of proclaiming the gospel to set people free. That Peter speaks of the “patience” of God, uses the term “gospel,” and describes Christ’s activity in the prison as that of “proclamation,” a word that is used throughout the New Testament to describe preaching the gospel for the purpose of conversion,[5] all fits together nicely with the interpretation I am proposing. The only detail that seems to throw off this way of looking at it is the reference to the generation of Noah. Did Christ just preach to that generation, and, if so, why? It turns out, though, that what at first seems a weakness of this line of interpretation is actually a sign of its strength and coherence. The generation of Noah came to be regarded in ancient biblical tradition as the most wicked generation ever with no chance of finding redemption. The flood was seen as a definitive sign of their hopelessness. In naming this generation in particular, Peter seems to be affirming that there is absolutely no group of people outside the effective range of God’s will to save. If there is hope for them, there is hope for anybody!

Besides the details of this specific passage cohering well with this interpretation, it also fits integrally with what comes after it, and with the overall message of this section of the letter. Right after Peter mentions the generation of Noah, he says that the flood “prefigures” the Christian practice of baptism (3:21). While the flood was seen originally as a sign of judgment alone, Peter says that the flood, like baptism, ultimately had a restorative purpose- to wash away the dirt of sin. The flood was a sort of “baptism” by which those in the Noah generation were “put to death in the flesh but made alive in the spirit” (4:6), which happens now in the life of the baptized believer. This interpretation also can cohere with the general thrust of this section of the letter which is to give courage and hope to Christians who are suffering persecution for their proclamation of the gospel. Peter is saying, in effect, “You may be going through hell, but don’t forget that Christ has been through hell and he didn’t stop preaching!” So, while other interpretations have been strongly advanced and widely accepted, I believe this one makes the most sense.

---

[1] The New International Version translates this as “For this is the reason the gospel was preached even to those who are now dead…” In the NIV Study Bible it is acknowledged that translators have added the word “now,” and that it isn’t originally in the text. The reason given is that it is necessary to add this word so that the verse doesn’t have the impression of allowing for opportunities for salvation in the afterlife, which is clearly wrong on their view. On this interpretation, the people who were preached to were preached to when they were alive, but now they are dead. This is simply a case where a prior theological conviction not only distorts the interpretation of a text, but in this case it actually leads the translators to add a word in order to make it say what they think it should say. Of course the Bible doesn’t offer us the hope for salvation in the afterlife if you change the verses that point in that direction!

[2] For the historical range of interpretations and theological directions taken with these passages, see Pitstick, Light in Darkness, 30-60; Trumbower, Rescue for the Dead, 91-108; Alfeyev, Christ the Conqueror of Hell, 43-104; MacCulloch, The Harrowing of Hell, 45-66.

[3] Quoted in Clark-Soles, Death and Afterlife in the New Testament, 192.

[4] Archbishop Hilarion Alfeyev argues persuasively that the majority of the Eastern fathers embraced this interpretation. See Christ the Conqueror of Hell, 43-81.

[5] See the discussion and list of New Testament references in Sanders, No Other Name, 187. William Dalton argues that Jesus’ proclamation (kerysso) doesn’t necessarily mean to preach for the purpose of conversion, but can simply refer to the announcement of judgment. (Dalton, Christ’s Proclamation, 158.) I believe this interpretation relies too much on pressing the analogy of Noah’s purpose in preaching, and not enough on how this word is regularly and consistently employed by New Testament authors. 

Why Good Friday is Good

The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross. 

                                                                    - The Apostle Paul (Colossians 1:15-20)

This morning our daughters asked a very good question: Why do we call Good Friday "good"? As our 9-year-old put it, "How could killing Jesus be a good thing?" I suppose that question is as good a way as any to articulate the basis of what Christians call "atonement theology." How does the death of Jesus bring something good to us?

Christians have answered this question in many ways over the centuries, and no one explanation has ever achieved a universal consensus. In my own struggles to reflect on the meaning of the cross, I keep coming back again and again to this quote from Paul that he wrote in a letter to his friends at Colossae. Although Paul could talk about the meaning of the cross with a variety of concepts and metaphors, at the heart of his understanding of what was going on at the cross is that in some mysterious way God was in Jesus taking on the worst that humanity could do and making peace with everything and everyone ever created. 

I don't know about you, but most of the time I live with a sense that I have yet to do what I need to do in order to have peace with God. 

Intellectually, I say I believe in a loving and merciful God, but in my heart, I have a hard time not projecting my own insecurities and fears onto a cosmic screen. 

We could accurately call this day "Tragic Friday," because it is truly a tragedy that a human being who fully embodies divinity should end up maliciously tortured and unjustly executed. 

Yet, it is Good Friday as well, because on this day we discover God tearing apart that cosmic screen on which we project our insecurities and fears- that screen that separates us from seeing what God is really like- and showing us that God has already done whatever needs to be done to reconcile us to God. 

God has already done whatever needs to be done to reconcile us to God. 

That affirmation is behind any and all Christian attempts at making sense of the cross.

When I was a little kid, I loved playing baseball but I sucked pretty bad. One game we were the home team and we were ahead going into the bottom of the last inning, and I got to go into the game. This usually doesn't happen, because if you are the home team and you are ahead, there is no reason to play the bottom of the last inning. The game has already been won. But for whatever reason, the coaches decided to play this last half-inning to give the kids who sucked a chance to play without risk to the team's record. 

When you are an insecure kid who is afraid of screwing up, playing the game knowing that you have already won is a big relief.

Today, on this Good Friday, may you remember that because God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself, the game has already been won. 

You don't have to anxiously strive to prove anything to anyone, God included.

It's all already been taken care of. 

Everything is going to be ok. 

Just go out and enjoy the game.

Unfinished Sermons

"Sometimes people assume that preaching works this way: a preacher prepares a sermon during the week, finishes it at some point- maybe Friday afternoon or Saturday night- and then gets up and preaches the finished product in worship on Sunday. This may be the way it appears on the surface, but experienced preachers know better: sermons are never actually finished. There are loose ends, questions that could have been pursued in more depth, stones left unturned, intriguing aspects of the biblical text unexamined, thoughts not quite fully baked, an untidiness at the heart of things. At some point, though, preachers have to take what they have, stand up, and speak. Preachers do not preach because the sermon is finished; they preach because it is Sunday." 

 - Thomas G. Long, What Shall We Say? Evil, Suffering, and the Crisis of Faith

Four Things I Want Young Methodists to Know

This morning I have been preparing my little talk for the confirmation class tomorrow morning on the "Wesleyan Quadrilateral," our church's way of going about thinking theologically through using four main sources: Scripture, tradition, reason, and experience. For each one, I have been trying to come up with what I want the "take away" to be. Here is what I got:

Scripture: The living Christ can meet us in many ways, but the Bible is the main way that Christ confronts, comforts, calls, and challenges us to be all that God made us to be. The Bible is by no means an easy book though. Some of it seems boring and irrelevant. Most of it requires some study and work to figure out. It isn't life's "recipe book" that will tell you how to respond to every situation, as some people might say. Instead, it will give you the main ingredients for how to make a life that brings a smile to God's face. But it will be up to you to decide how to mix them all together and what to make of them. 

As difficult as the Bible can be, however, it is also true that through the Bible we learn some clear and basic things that should shape how we read and interpret everything else. Jesus said that loving your neighbor as yourself is what the Bible is all about. We can understand that. So don't worry a lot about things you don't understand. Spend your mental energy mostly thinking about how to live out what you do understand. That should be enough to keep you busy for a lifetime. 

Tradition: When you want to learn how to play a sport, the best thing to do isn't to go off on your own and try to figure it all out by yourself. You learn from parents and grandparents and coaches who have played the game and had much more time to learn about it and practice it. When it comes to forming our beliefs about God and what matters in life, it's a good idea to listen to those people of faith who have gone before us and have spent their whole lives grappling with the questions that we now struggle with. 

That said, we should also know that there is always room for innovation and creativity in a tradition, whether that be in learning how to throw a knuckle-ball (some pitchers now use the tips of their fingers rather than their knuckles) or in learning how to understand the divinity of Jesus. As much wisdom as there is in the past, God is not stuck back there in our ancestor's mental pictures of God and the world. God is always ahead of us calling us into deeper and fresher ways of understanding. 

Reason: God created all of you, including your brain. You really should use it. Don't waste it on thinking about how to keep up with the Kardashians. Use it to ponder and wonder about the deep mysteries of life, and don't settle for easy answers. Whenever you find answers, start coming up with more questions. Some religious people will tell you that it is dangerous to think and question. Some religious people will tell you that science and history will undermine your faith. 

Those people are dangerous and you shouldn't listen to them. A faith that can't stand up to some basic questions isn't worth having in the first place.Your doubts are good. They really are. They are a sign that your faith is alive and growing. They are a reminder that you don't know everything and you never will. Doubts can push us towards a deeper humility and a greater willingness to listen to other people. Certainty precludes real conversations, and when there are no real conversations, there is no genuine community. If God wanted us to have certainty about everything, God could have made things a lot clearer. Perhaps that shows us that God values community over certainty. Perhaps we should too.

Experience: We believe that God is a living and present reality in our lives. We believe that Christ is a light that illumines everyone, and that through our life experience Christ can confirm or correct our beliefs and behaviors. From time to time, should stop texting long enough to be still and pay attention to what is going on inside of us. When we work in a food bank and we feel great about ourselves, and when we join in on making fun of someone and afterwards feel a strange pain in our chest, we should pay attention to that. That's the light of Christ teaching us about how to live and how not to live.

We believe that God is near to each of us, nearer than our own breath, and that God can teach us through our own experience of life. We have to be careful, though, to not assume that our own experience of life is universal and that all of our convictions should be shared by everyone. We need to give other people space to follow their experience of God, just as we would want them to give us space to follow our experience of God. God is very big, and cannot be contained in one person's experience. After all, we have four biographies of Jesus in the Bible to remind us that he could never be captured by just one person's account. Have the courage to follow your experience of God, while at the same time being open to learning from other people's experience of God. There is a reason why we have church. We need each other to remind us that the pure light of God is reflected in many different ways through the prism of God's people. 

Flames of Love Review

This review of Flames of Love was written by Eric Van Meter for Ministry Matters.

Is universal salvation a watered-down, anti-biblical concept that strikes at the core of Christian life and practice? Or is it a legitimate alternative to the doctrine of eternal damnation?

Pastor and author Heath Bradley embraces a "hopeful belief" that the latter is true. With Flames of Love, he ventures into hotly contested territory, exploring from a mainline point of view a topic popularized by evangelical authors such as Rob Bell and Francis Chan.
But universal salvation--the notion that God will ultimately bring into his eternal kingdom every person who has ever lived--is not, as some suggest, a novel concept created by weak-stomached liberals. It is, according to Bradley, a possibility advanced by a number of early Christian leaders, including Origen and Gregory of Nyssa. Those who point to "tradition" as a primary reason to reject universal salvation ignore the diversity of belief that existed before Christianity was incorporated into the Roman Empire.

On this foundation, Bradley builds the argument that universal salvation is not only far from heresy, but also the most sensible conclusion when faithful readers examine the Bible both carefully and logically. He does not deny the reality of hell, whether on earth or as some form of temporary punishment. Rather, he denies the finality of hell for those created by an all-powerful God characterized by all-powerful love.

Bradley seems well aware that his view is not the majority opinion, nor is it the only valid possibility. He also cites annihilationism (that non-Christians are given no afterlife) and eternal conscious punishment (a real and eternal hell) as rational interpretations of the Scriptures and Christian tradition. And, more importantly, he acknowledges the passionate backlash by many modern Christians against universal salvation. Still, he asserts, the latter is the most coherent option among the three.

Once he has made his argument for universal salvation, Bradley addresses six major charges often levied against his view, including the arguments that universalists reject the Bible and deny human freedom. He responds to each of these charges not with fiery rhetoric or accusations, but with respectful conversation that fairly explains his detractors' position while still holding firm to his own.

Bradley's ability to balance his passion and keen intellectual insight with his commitment to respectful conversation is one of the greatest strengths of Flames of Love. He models the kind of fair-play debate lacking in much of American life--including church life. In the end, his concern is not so much winning everyone over to his interpretation, but in convincing his readers that universal salvation is a concept that should be taken seriously by thoughtful Christians.

Although Flames of Love is an intellectual book heavy on logic and philosophy, Bradley's prose is clear and quite readable. Small groups and individuals may have to expend more energy to understand this book than they might for lighter studies. However, the payoff in expanded knowledge and challenging ideas is more than enough to make Flames of Love a worthy read.