50 Shades of Grey, A Single Stain of Red

In addition to climbing to the top of the bestseller lists, E.L. James’ 50 Shades of Grey (the first in a trilogy) is attracting attention from those alarmed not only by the book’s sexual content, but by the fact that the book’s audience is predominantly composed of young adult women.

In fairness, I have not read the book.  I was most thoroughly exposed to its themes in a recent article by Jenny Rae Armstrong.  She quotes from ABC News, who summarizes the book in this way:

Anastasia Steele, 21, and a virginal college student, can’t say no to dashing 27-year-old Christian Grey, who insists she sign a contract that allows him to submit her to his every sadomasochistic whim. In their first sexual encounter, Grey unveils his silver tie and binds her wrists in knots, and Steele does as she is told. He is also fabulously rich, a telecommunications tycoon, and uses his wealth to take care of her like a pampered princess. “Ana,” as he calls her, willingly and excitedly agrees to spanking, whipping and gagging, with props like ice, rope, tape–a repertoire right out of a BDSM (bondage, discipline, dominance and submission) manual. Grey instructs her to call him “sir,” and sets rules on everything from her diet to her most intimate grooming routines.

Armstrong’s excellent article aimed to address the central question: “Why do women fantasize about abuse?”  She concluded that the complexity of female sexuality does not yield one reason, but the appeal arises from a woman’s emotional, psychological, and even physiological makeup.

With so much to appreciate in Armstrong’s thorough evaluation, I can add nothing here.   And while I suspect the book’s content has prompted many to adopt a posture of avoidance, as a pastor I believe that the cultural impact prevents such works from merely being ignored or condemned.  For if history be our test tube, this series of novels (and their inevitable film adaptations) will continue to captivate the hearts and imagination of young women, just as other series have done in the recent past.  Commenting on the film adaptation of The Hunger Games, youth expert Walt Mueller observes that young adults “will watch it, chew on it, process it, and digest it with or without us. The latter option offers us a great opportunity to talk about the bigger story—God’s story—and the things that really matter.”

I suspect that many struggle to see how to connect God’s story to BDSM erotica, and I’m personally grieved that such a response is even necessary.  Nevertheless, I believe that the gospel has meaningful things to say to every situation, even the places that seem the darkest – and perhaps there especially so.

And so I write for pastors, parents, youth workers, and anyone else struggling to find ways to connect to the young women who have invested their hearts in these novels.  My aim is to provide a gospel-centered response to the themes raised by 50 Shades of Grey, and hopefully equip readers with the means to connect the gospel to James’ growing readership.

JUDGES 19: WHEN PEOPLE BECOME PROPERTY

Sadly, sexual brokenness is nothing new, as even the pages of scripture reveal.  We find a particularly horrific scene in Judges 19.  The details are sparse, yet graphic.  We are presented with two principle characters: a Levite and his concubine.  No names are given, perhaps in part to underline the dehumanizing character of the story that follows.  In a later verse, the man is described as her ‘adon, her “master” (19:27).  Maybe this isn’t exactly parallel to the “master” language of the BDSM world, but in both cases the term is rooted in the same dehumanizing impulse.  She’s not a person; she’s property.

When the concubine leaves him, he’s in no hurry to retrieve her.  Four months go by before we find the couple sitting in her father’s home.  Though initially receptive of her family’s hospitality, the man foolishly decides to set out for home, seeming to ignore the fact that he has more miles ahead of him than available daylight.  But when darkness descends upon them, the man refuses to stay in a community of Canaanites, pressing onward to the security of an Israelite community.  But it is there, while a guest in someone’s home, that they experience the opposite end of the hospitality spectrum.  The pounding on the door will not stop until the gang of men can find a body to slake their desire, their eyes set on the male houseguest they had just seen enter town.  In a perverse act of self-defense, the man shoves his concubine into the street, where she is gang-raped until morning.

The story’s saddest detail is revealed the next morning, when the morning’s soft rays of light fall on the woman’s frail fingers, her hand extended toward the doorway, reaching for help that never came, longing for the security her husband never gave.

“Get up,” he says.  But she is unresponsive.  He slings her on the back of her donkey to finish the journey home – he has one final use for her body.  He slices her into pieces, distributing them around the nation of Israel as a symbol of the unprecedented barbarism.  If you read the final chapters in Judges, you see that this incident quickly escalates to the tribal, and then the national level.

“…BECAUSE OF THE SPLENDOR I BESTOWED…”

Is this merely an isolated incident?  A by-product of an androcentric, patriarchal society?    Such modern objections seem to overlook the original author’s intent.  The nameless characters serve not only to underscore the dehumanizing nature of the sexual depravity, but also to serve as a warning for all of Israel: left to his own devices, every man in Israel is capable of this level of cruelty.  The story is set not in a pagan community, but in the perceived safety of an Israelite town.  In a story hauntingly similar to that of Sodom, Israel is forced to admit that they could no longer presume that the dangers were isolated to the world “out there” – in Canaan.  They were realities that lurk within each and every human heart.

And so it is with 50 Shades of Grey and our own sexual brokenness.  To paraphrase Solzhenitsyn, the line between sexual purity and brokenness cannot be drawn between the covers of a book or the covers on our beds, but through our very hearts.

If we read Israel’s story, we know that this was the case for the nation as a whole, whose disobedience was often described in terms of sexual promiscuity.  When Israel turns from God to ally herself with Babylonian culture, it is described in language that might even make Anastasia Steele blush:  “she lustfully exposed her nakedness…she increased her prostitution…she lusted after their genitals – as large as those of donkeys, and their seminal emission was as strong as that of stallions” (Ezekiel 23:18-20).

But despite Israel’s disobedience, God has consistently responded to His people with matchless devotion.  Ezekiel also describes God’s devotion to His people as a bride adorned with jewelry:

“‘Then I passed by you and watched you, noticing that you had reached the age for love. I spread my cloak over you and covered your nakedness. I swore a solemn oath to you and entered into a marriage covenant with you, declares the sovereign LORD, and you became mine.  9 “‘Then I bathed you in water, washed the blood off you, and anointed you with fragrant oil.  10 I dressed you in embroidered clothing and put fine leather sandals on your feet. I wrapped you with fine linen and covered you with silk.  11 I adorned you with jewelry. I put bracelets on your hands and a necklace around your neck.  12 I put a ring in your nose, earrings on your ears, and a beautiful crown on your head.  13 You were adorned with gold and silver, while your clothing was of fine linen, silk, and embroidery. You ate the finest flour, honey, and olive oil. You became extremely beautiful and attained the position of royalty.  14 Your fame spread among the nations because of your beauty; your beauty was perfect because of the splendor which I bestowed on you, declares the sovereign LORD. (Ezekiel 16:8-14)

Israel would be beautiful not of her own merits, but “because of the splendor that [God] bestowed” upon her.  Years later, the apostle Paul would write that the Church is the “bride of Christ,” for whom Christ gave Himself through the cross.

The Levite sacrificed his bride to save himself.  Christ sacrificed himself to save His Bride. 

FORMED THROUGH DEFORMITY

Though not rooted in romantic love, Christ’s sacrificial love for a wayward people forms the basis for romantic relationships, most fully expressed in the sacred and beautiful promise of marriage:

25 Husbands, love your wives just as Christ loved the church and gave himself for her  26 to sanctify her by cleansing her with the washing of the water by the word,  27 so that he may present the church to himself as glorious– not having a stain or wrinkle, or any such blemish, but holy and blameless. (Ephesians 5:25-27)

To call the love expressed in 50 Shades of Grey a cheap counterfeit seems almost too generous.  The degradation that undergirds BDSM culture is the complete opposite of the beauty and wonder of God-given sexuality.  Ironically, the lead character of 50 Shades is named Anastasia, a name meaning “resurrection.”  But such a title hardly seems to fit the dehumanizing treatment that so vexingly allures her.  Humanity is made of equal complements – male and female – to debase ourselves in acts domination and submission moves us further from our God-given humanity.  The gospel is about becoming more human; BDSM is about becoming less

Armstrong’s article suggests that women are allured by abuse fantasy for a multiplicity of reasons, but I believe that the gospel speaks in a meaningful way to each of those reasons (and here you’ll notice I borrow Armstrong’s language).  To the woman struggling with the past trauma, Christ offers wholeness and healing.  To the woman struggling to “rescue the beast,” Christ offers safety and security.  To the woman struggling with “pleasant–if guilt-ridden–feelings of sexual arousal,” Christ offers complete transformation.  And to the woman struggling to understand her own complexity, Christ offers to walk beside you and show you the depth and beauty of His love.

“The deformity of Christ forms you,” wrote St. Augustine.  “In this life, therefore, let us hold fast to the deformed Christ.”  Holding fast to the deformed Christ means finding something in Him that cannot be found through mere literary escapism.

The gospel reminds us that while the Levite sacrificed his bride to save Himself, Jesus sacrificed Himself to save His bride.  The Levite tore his bride to pieces; Jesus is continually putting His bride back together.  The Levite’s concubine extended her hand for help that never came.

On the cross, Jesus reaches through the 50 shades of grey to extend a scarred hand stained by a singular shade of red.  From cradle to the grave, His humble life and sacrificial death tell us that whatever our struggles, the answer can never be an absence of love, and His open grave and promise of return tell us that the answer can never be an absence of hope.

In closing, I’ll recommend the excellent book Rid of my Disgrace: Hope and Healing for Victims of Sexual Assault by Justin and Lindsay Holcomb. 

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Liturgy and Character Formation

Most of the conversation in the last 30 years or so has centered around the question: “How do we make our worship relevant to our culture?”

Douglas D. Webster says that the answer to the question is consistently answered in the wrong way:

Many respected church consultants are offering straightforward, unambiguous answers.  They are promoting strategies that encourage churches to establish a market niche, focus on a target audience, meet a wide range of felt needs, pursue corporate excellence, select a dynamic and personable leader and create a positive, upbeat, exciting atmosphere.”  (Douglas D. Webster, Selling Jesus: What’s Wrong With Marketing the Church, p. 20-21)

Sociologists Roger Finke and Rodney Stark argue that “where religious affiliation is a matter of choice, religious organizations must compete for members…Religious economies are like commercial economies in that they consist of a market made up of a set of current and potential customers and a set of firms seeking to serve that market.” (Roger Finke, Rodney Stark, The Churching of America, 1776-1990: Winners and Losers in Our Religious Economy, p. 17)

The task of the Church is not to cater to consumers.  The task of the Church is to be relevant to our culture.  One of my greatest fears is of reaching an era when we no longer see the difference.  This line will always be blurry when we see the Church as a business – when marketing replaces mission, and youth culture is elevated to the status of golden calf (before you argue, do your homework…I even have a series on this starting here).

Mark Galli writes:

“[T]here’s a reason Jesus said ‘You shall be my witnesses,’ and not ‘You shall be my marketers’ . . .Should it surprise us that in this church-marketing era, members demand more and more from their churches, and if churches don’t deliver, they take their spiritual business elsewhere? Have we ever seen an age in which church transience was such an epidemic?” (Mark Galli, “Do I Have A Witness?: Why Jesus Didn’t Say, ‘You Shall Be My Marketers to the Ends of the Earth.’” Christianity Today, October 4, 2007).

The gospel doesn’t need to be “made” relevant.  The gospel is relevant.  The question is therefore: how does our worship unveil Christ’s relevance?

LEX ORANDI, LEX CREDENDI

Historically, the Church has embraced the Latin phrase les orandi, lex credendi.  Literally, it means “the church believes as she prays/worships.”  More recent language has taught us that “what you win people with, you win them to.”  In other words, our worship not only reveals what we love, but can actually shape what we love.  Jamie Smith wrote an entire book called Desiring the Kingdom, in which he argues that our culture follows various secular “liturgies” that shape our character.  Think about it: if someone is glued to World of Warcraft all day, we conclude negative things about their character.  In other words, certain habits (such as the use of technology) shape our character.

Which means that the goal of the Church’s liturgy is worship that is both a response to God’s character, but also a response that shapes and forms our character.

Now, let’s be clear.  The Church is neither a building nor a service.  The Church is the body of Christ, made flesh in those who follow Him.  Therefore, a “worship service” is a gathering to celebrate the relationship between God and the new humanity found in His Church.    By definition, then, a worship service is primarily for believers.  It is not for the lost; it is for the found.  However, can the service be arranged in such a way that outsiders feel safe and welcome in the gathering?  Can it be arranged so that it also helps lead them further toward God’s character, and shapes their own?

I believe the answer is “yes,” and we have only to appeal to 2,000 years of church tradition to see such a pattern.  In Tim Keller’s words, the Church engages in two things: “come and see” and “go and share.”  On Sundays, we “come and see;” through the week we “go and share.”

COME AND SEE

All that leads us to the question of how: How can we avoid questions of preference in shaping our liturgy?  I borrow from the Bifrost Arts Music Liturgy and Space curriculum in suggesting that worship is (1) the expression of God’s love as well as (2) the formation of God’s love.  Let’s examine how this impacts believers and unbelievers:

  1. Believers
    Those who are “in Christ” enter a new relationship with Him.  By God’s saving grace we have fellowship with God and each other. Believers

The questions then are as follows:

1.1   How does our liturgy help us express our love for God?  Does it lead us to confess sin?  Does it lead us to express our thoughts and feelings to the full depth of God’s character?

1.2   How does our liturgy help form our love for God?  Does it lead to a change in our character?  Does it lead to repentance?  Does it lead us to treat others differently?

2. Unbelievers

This is a harder case.  Unbelievers have a relationship with God – they are His enemies (cf. Rom 5).  Our desire is to see that relationship reconciled.  Yet through God’s common grace, all men are aware of the presence of the God in whose image they were created (cf. Rom 1:18).  Which means they can appeal to such ideas as love, truth, beauty, and goodness even before they are led to the ultimate source.

Therefore the questions are the same, yet their applications a bit different:

2.1   How does our liturgy help unbelievers express a love for God?  Does it communicate God’s attributes (wrath, love, Holiness) in an understandable way?  Does it display the full richness of God’s kingdom?  Does it offer an invitation for unbelievers to respond to God – maybe even make a decision for Christ?

2.2   How does our liturgy help form a love for God in the life of an unbeliever?  Does our liturgy – both music and sermon – lead them to repentance?  Does it encourage a decision to follow Jesus?  Does it also give offer them a richer life in His Kingdom after they’ve made this decision?

The purpose of asking such questions is to redefine the strategy for planning our liturgy.  It’s no longer about appealing to consumerist preferences, but unveiling the gospel’s true relevance for our world today.

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Unseen: Sneak Preview

The above video is the trailer for the message series “Unseen: Exposing the Paranormal” beginning this Sunday at Tri-State Fellowship.

Below is a description as well as a schedule for the series.  If you’re in the area and are looking for a local church, we’d love for you to see us.

“Look, I know the supernatural is something that isn’t supposed to happen, but it does happen.” (The Haunting, 1963)

Do you believe in the paranormal? Do you believe there’s more to our world than what you can see on the surface?

If you’re like most Americans, the word “paranormal” makes you either laugh or shudder – sometimes both.

Which one are you? Do you see such beliefs as the leftovers from a superstitious past? Surely we don’t need to be talking about ghosts and demons in an age of science and reason. Or do you see a spiritual side to everything? Do you believe your life to be governed by powerful spiritual forces – one of which may be very dark? Perhaps you’re somewhere in the middle – perhaps open to the idea, just not sure where you land.

What you don’t know can’t hurt you, right?

Join us Sunday mornings as we seek to pull back the curtain of the unseen world and expose the reality of the paranormal.

Brace yourself – “Unseen” just might be unforgettable.

Schedule:

Date Title
April 15 “Surface Tension:” Is reality more than meets the eye?
April 22 “Sympathy for the Devil:” The identity of Satan
April 29 “Master of Puppets:” What does Satan want?
May 6 “Final Word:” Who really wins
May 13 “Power Play:” The gospel and spiritual warfare
May 20 “Postcards from the Paranormal:” Q&A

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Jesus as True and Better Religion – Purity and Sacrifice

If you’ve been following along, you know that this week we’ve been discussing the way that religious duty is an insufficient way to cover over shame.  This post is lengthy, but hopefully reveals the awesome way that Jesus transforms religion in both His day and ours.

EDEN AS THE FIRST AND BEST TEMPLE

Shame began in a garden.  The garden, as a matter of fact – when Adam and Eve were created, they were said to be “naked and unashamed” (Genesis 2:25).  Their world knew no shame.

And what was their world like?  We’ve all heard the story: God creates the earth in six days, resting on the seventh.  The language of Genesis repeats the phrase “there was morning…there was night.”  But on the seventh day, the author, Moses, makes no mention of there being morning or night.  The seventh day was to represent – at least partially – that great expanse of time when God’s presence could be known throughout all creation:

“This doesn’t just mean that God took a day off.  It means that in the previous six days God was making a world – heaven and earth together – for his own use.  Like someone building a home, God finished the job and then went to take up residence, to enjoy what he had built.  Creation was itself a temple, the Temple, the heaven-and-earth structure built for God to live in.”  (N.T. Wright, Simply Jesus, p. 136)

“SUIT OF FIG LEAVES AND LIES”

But after man rebelled, they were kicked out: excluded from the worship in God’s perfect Temple in Eden.  A cherub, a type of angel, guarded the way behind them.  In the words of songwriter Derek Webb, they “traded naked and unashamed for a better place to hide, for a righteous mask, a suit of fig leaves and lies.  Throughout the Old Testament, “nakedness” is frequently used throughout scripture as a metaphor for the nation’s sin against God (Isaiah 47:3; Lamentations 1:8; Ezekiel 16:36).  Isaiah would go naked for three years to symbolize the nation’s sin (Isaiah 20:1-4).

Let’s not forget who was originally reading this: Moses was writing to the Israelites, telling these stories as they made their way through the desert, guided by God.  It was as if God were saying, “You’ve lost My land.  You’ve lost the perfect Temple of my garden.  You worship now by carrying my Tabernacle on poles – a portable dwelling as a constant reminder of impermanence.  But I have led you from slavery.  I will show you a new land – a land promised to Abraham so long ago.”  And in this way a wayward group of wanderers came to trust God to uniquely manifest Himself among them in a portable sanctuary called the “Tabernacle.”

THE NEW TEMPLE

Later in Israel’s history, the people find themselves once more in possession of the land.  God commissions the building of a new temple under Solomon.  Even after this Temple was destroyed, years later, it would be rebuilt.  The Temple was where God’s glory would uniquely rest.  Nearly all cultures, all religions have some version of a temple.  It’s where heaven and earth are thought to intersect.

And because Eden was Israel’s original, perfect temple, the actual decorations of the Temple – from the carved gourds, palm trees, and flowers – were designed to replicate the contours of Eden (cf. 1 Kings 6:18; 7:14-35).  But within the Temple was the place where God most specifically made His presence known.  It was there that God’s glory took the form of a cloud (just as He had done as a guide to the Israelites) called the shekina glory (1 Kings 8:10-111).  Only priests were allowed to enter this unique place within the Temple, and only to perform sacrifices.  What barrier was chosen to separate this special area from the rest of the Temple?  What final symbol could be chosen to symbolize the separation between man and God?  A cherub – or rather the image of one, emblazoned on the heavy curtain that barred the way into God’s presence.  Just as Eden had been sealed with the flaming sword of an angel, so too would this curtain remind Israel of their separation.

WHAT GOOD IS A TEMPLE?

Now I know what you’re thinking.  All this sounds terribly archaic.  Temple worship is the stuff of a primitive, pre-modern people.  What good is a Temple?  The rational worldview birthed from the enlightenment showed us that man’s problems could be solved not through divine intervention but through human empiricism.  The individual flourished.  In that kind of society, we don’t need a Temple.  We don’t need sacrifice.  What we need instead is a laboratory.  What we need is a social welfare program.

But in the last century we have not seen the triumph of modernism – we have only watched its demise.  Science, political theory and reason could not provide answers to the incredible suffering of the world around us – if anything there was an increase in human suffering in the last century.  Human enterprise could not deliver the utopia it promised:

“According to architectural critic Carl Jencks, modernism was blown to bits in St. Louis on July 15, 1972 at 3:32 p.m., when the Pruitt-Igoe housing project was destroyed by dynamite.  This was no terrorist ploy but a deliberate deed, symbolizing the failure of a grand vision.  The huge housing project had been an attempt to create a functionally perfect living situation through rational planning.  However, it became the target of incessant vandalism, and was eventually declared unlivable.  For Jencks and others, the razing of this housing project, along with the blasting of numerous other modernist buildings in the 1970’s, served as a parable of the demise of modernism and an invitation to postmodernism, in both philosophy and architecture.”  (Douglas Groothius, Truth Decay, p. 7)

In a postmodern world, there are no real fixed points of reference – all truth claims are potentially attempts at seizing power. But in such a world, people are more open than ever before to spirituality, regardless of what form it might take.  The collapse of modernism shattered “the hard surface of secularity” (to use Barth’s phrase), and gave us a glimpse – or at least a yearning – to seek out God.  “How far is Heaven?” we find ourselves asking – a question that means more in today’s world than ever before.

So let’s return to the story of Israel and her Temple.

PURITY AND THE TEMPLE

By the first century, the Temple system had become largely corrupted.  Law-abiding Jews were ambivalent about a Temple that served its purpose even while being remodeled under the Roman authorities.  By the time of the destruction of the second temple in AD 70, Jewish leaders assumed that God had in some way forsaken His people.  God’s Temple had become broken and defiled long before it would ever be destroyed.

The problem, as we have already seen, was that the Pharisees were seeking to protect the established order – whether for good or for ill.  They had come to use religious duty as a new form of fig leaves to mask their shame.

In the Old Testament, one of the Psalms reads: “May your priests be clothed with righteousness; may your saints sing for joy” (Psalm 132:9).  The priests were the ones who were expected to be the most righteous.  They were the ones who would perform the sacrifices.

But, as we saw earlier, Jesus calls men to a whole new standard of righteousness, a standard that they could not possibly attain.

BROKEN HEARTS, STAINED GARMENTS

We see this theme reflected in the image of Zechariah 3 – a passage I discovered through new eyes thanks to Tim Keller’s excellent book King’s Cross. 

In the vision of Zecheriah 3, the day appears to be Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement.  It was the day when the High Priest, in this case Joshua, would enter into the Holy of Holies.  Through a series of sacrifices, he would “atone” (a word meaning to “cover up”) for his own sins, followed by the sins of the nation.

To maintain his purity, priests like Joshua were sequestered for a week to prevent them from coming into contact with anything unclean so that they could perform the ceremony undefiled.  There was even a set of ritual bathings, after which Joshua would emerge wearing pure white robes.

But in Zechariah 3:3, Joshua is wearing “filthy robes.”  The original Hebrew seems to suggest that he is actually covered in excrement.  He is expected to be clean, to bring purity to the nation.  But in God’s eyes, all the rituals and duties do not truly cleanse the stain.

We need a true and better Joshua.  A true and better high priest.  Centuries later, we find our new Joshua – Jesus of Nazareth.

Zechariah 3: 4 says this:

“the angel said to those who were standing before him, “Remove the filthy garments from him.” And to him he said, “Behold, I have taken your iniquity away from you, and I will clothe you with pure vestments.”

This is what Jesus came to do.  He came to take on our filthy robes and give us His garments of purity and righteousness.  He is the true and better high priest who can cover over the sins of His people with His own blood.  He is the true and better sacrifice, whose once-for-all shedding of blood is sufficient to cover over the sins of many.

Which means that just as much as nakedness is a scriptural theme of sin, so too is being “clothed” a theme of Christ’s righteousness:

“I delight greatly in the LORD; my soul rejoices in my God. For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of righteousness,” (Isaiah 61:10)

“…clothe yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ, and do not think about how to gratify the desires of the sinful nature” (Romans 13:14)

“…for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ” (Gal 3:27)

TRUE AND BETTER TEMPLE

But we’re not quite done yet.  Jesus’ death also accomplished something significant.  When Jesus died, the Temple curtain was torn in two, top to bottom.  There was no longer a barrier between God and man.

In John 2, we see Jesus cleansing the Temple.  The proper lens to look through is found in Zechariah 14:21, which reads that when the Messiah comes, “there shall no longer be a Cannanite in the house of the Lord.”  The Hebrew word “Canaanite” also means “trader” or “salesman.”

So let’s do the math: The Messiah comes.  There are no salesmen.  Jesus clears the temple.  Now, there are no salesmen.  Jesus’ clearing of the temple is a powerful declaration that the Messiah has arrived.

When asked, Jesus tells them, cryptically, that even if this Temple is destroyed, He can build it in three days.  But, as is common in John’s writing, Jesus is referring not to brick and mortar but His own flesh and blood.  Jesus’ body becomes the true and better Temple.  This is why Jesus tells His disciples: “In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you (John 14:2).”  In John 2, Jesus’ “Father’s house” was His body – what Jesus is saying is that His death means that there is a new Temple.  Jesus’ body continues on in the form of His followers, the Church (1 Corinthians 12; cf. Ephesians 2:21).  Just as God’s shekina glory once filled the Temple, so God’s Spirit indwell the individual human heart (1 Corinthians 6:19).  Jesus’ death does not eliminate the priesthood – it eliminates the laity.  We are now a “royal priesthood” (1 Peter 2:9), meaning we can each freely enter into God’s presence knowing the Sacrifice has been made.

Jesus as the true and better Temple redraws the boundary lines between man and God.  This means that Jesus does not come to abolish religion, He comes to redeem it.

He is the true and better high priest who declares us clean.  He is the true and better sacrifice that allows this declaration to take place.  He is the true and better temple that invites even the outcasts to draw near.  Because He is all these things, He alone possesses the authority to declare the impure things pure again.

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Jesus the True and Better Priest

All along we’ve been observing the way that religion alone cannot cover over the stain that sin produces.

Which has led many to draw the conclusion that Jesus came, in some way, to eradicate religion.  “I have a relationship,” we insist.  “Not a religion.”

The problem with this statement should be obvious: the people who make such statements are often looked at by others as the most religious.  Further, Jesus never came to eradicate religion, only its hypocritical, self-centered expressions.

In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus tells the crowds that gathered to hear Him preach:

“Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them.  18 For truly, I say to you, until heaven and earth pass away, not an iota, not a dot, will pass from the Law until all is accomplished.  19 Therefore whoever relaxes one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do the same will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven.  20 For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 5:17-20)

All of which means that Jesus came not to eliminate religion, but to redeem it.  The Law remains permanent – its demands indelible.  Only total perfection can earn God’s favor.  Yes, in Ephesians 2 Paul says that Jesus “nullified” these commandments, but by that he only meant that Jesus’ death satisfied their demands and requirements – not that they were discarded altogether.

What the first century world needed was a Savior who would do more for them than merely highlight their sin and increase their burdens – activities the Pharisees and religious leaders had elevated to the form of both science and art.  What they needed – what all people need – was forgiveness.

Which actually brings us back full circle to the healing stories throughout Luke’s gospel.  The Pharisees were astonished – even angered – that Jesus would claim to forgive sin, because not only was this a claim to be God, but this also robbed them of their rights and powers:

“How does God normally forgive sins within Israel?  Why, through the Temple and the sacrifices that take place there.  Jesus seems to be claiming that God is doing, up close and personal through him, something that you’d normally expect to happen at the Temple.  And the Temple – the successor to the tabernacle in the desert – was…the place where heaven and earth met.  It was the place were God lived.  Or, more precisely, the place on earth where God’s presence intersected with human, this-worldly reality.

The Temple was also the place where the high priest had supreme authority.  Already we can see what we should have experienced if it was indeed true that Jesus was going around telling people that a new government was taking over, that God was in charge from now on.  His healings, his celebrations, his forgiving of those in dire need of it – all these were up-close-and-personal versions of the larger picture he knew his hearers would pick up on whenever he spoke of God becoming king.  These actions and sayings were ramming home the point, dangerous though it was, that the present rulers were being called to account and were indeed being replaced.  This was the time for God to take charge, to fix and mend things, to make everything right.  Starting with you here, and this person there.  Whether or not the authorities liked it.  Whether or not the self-appointed pressure groups approved.”  (N. T. Wright, Simply Jesus, p. 79-80)

Religion concerns itself with rituals, with temples.  But Christ is the true and better religion.  He is the true and better temple.  He is the true and better high priest who exercises these activities.

We’ll return to this exact theme in tomorrow’s post.

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“God is in the House:” Religion and Morality Control

For more than 20 years, Nick Cave has been cranking out some fairly bleak punk-influenced music with his band “The Bad Seeds.”  The song you’re seeing performed live is on a more stripped-down, piano-based album called “No More Shall We Part.”

The lyrics are pretty straightforward – the community has created their own version of utopia.  “God is in the house” they affirm.  In the song Cave describes the way that in this suburban landscape, there’s no room for those who need the mercy of God.

Stereotypical?  Sure.  Harsh?  Definitely.  But behind it there’s some truth to the reality that religion can do more than merely cover over our personal stains – a subject we’ve discussed in previous posts – but actually neglect the care of others.  One of the criticisms Jesus levels at the religious community of His day was that they were doing more harm than good:

“For you load people with burdens hard to bear, and you yourselves do not touch the burdens with one of your fingers…you have taken away the key of knowledge. You did not enter yourselves, and you hindered those who were entering.” (Luke 11:46, 52)

The issue is often this: we assume that morality is the real problem.  If morality is the problem, than society can be shaped and changed through behavioral modification.  This is, at least partially, the message of Cave’s song.

Michael Horton picks up on this general theme, in asking the question: “What would things look like if Satan really took control of a city?:”

Over half a century ago, Presbyterian minister Donald Grey Barnhouse offered his own scenario in his weekly sermon that was also broadcast nationwide on CBS radio.

Barnhouse speculated that if Satan took over Philadelphia (the city where Barnhouse pastored), all of the bars would be closed, pornography banished, and pristine streets would be filled with tidy pedestrians who smiled at each other. There would be no swearing. The children would say, “Yes, sir” and “No ma’am,” and the churches would be full every Sunday…where Christ is not preached.” (Michael Horton, Christless Christianity: The Alternative Gospel of the American Church)

Imagine a utopia where God’s mercy is simply not needed, where the greatest of joys is not Christ Himself, but being “good for goodness’ sake.”  God is in the house.  We’ve painted the fences white.  But this kind of stale, robotic way of living is wholly alien to the life that Jesus continues to offer.

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“Surface Shines, Inside Rots:” Pharisees on the Right, Pharisees on the Left

“We’re all ok, until the day we’re not.  The surface shines, while the inside rots.”  (Rise Against, “Audience of One”)

In the passage we read in Luke on Sunday (Luke 11:29-54), we saw Jesus encountering the Pharisees.  It’s true that the gospels do not portray the Pharisees all that favorably, but let’s not forget that of all the faith persuasions of Jesus’ day, these guys were the most conservative and most faithful to the Biblical text.  The problem, of course, was that they couldn’t stop adding their own traditions to those of the Bible, a practice that Jesus sharply condemns.

But we shouldn’t be so quick to assume that we’re any different, lest we wrongly – and proudly – stand before God and say, “At least I’m not like one of those Pharisees.”  In the last post, we hinted that religious behavior might be one way of managing sin and covering shame.  The real question is what kind of religious person you are.

See, the myth of the suit-and-tie-wearing, uptight moralist is rapidly disappearing from the evangelical marketplace.  Yet the image remains as a convenient scapegoat.  After all, it’s become fun to pick on the ‘religious’ people of our day.  Jared Wilson writes:

“…it becomes clear what they mean is ‘traditional people’ or the uncool. My feeling is that the Bible-thumping, starched suit-wearing, hellfire and brimstone religious people taking the fun out of fundamentalism are becoming fewer and farther between, while the church is brimming with self-righteous hipsters and cooler-than-thous. The Pharisees look like Vampire Weekend now.”

Which means you can be a Pharisee in one of two ways:

(1)    A Pharisee on the “right,” embracing so-called “traditional” values (stereotypes?) associated with the religious person.

-OR-

(2)    A Pharisee on the “left,” embracing more “progressive values” that align with the culture of our own day.

Looking at their values, it’s easy to see the points of comparison:

Pharisees on the Right: Pharisees on the Left:
Respectability: Traditional religion emphasizes being “respectable.”  Good, upright behavior is what earns God’s approval –as well as the admiration of others. Authenticity: Today’s crowds are more likely to talk about an “authentic” life.  “It’s not a religion,” we insist.  “It’s a relationship.”  We want to be liked by others – so we distance ourselves from “those” types of Christians.
Necktie: Being respectable means looking the part: dress up to go to church. Skinny Jeans: Christians can be hip – it’s what separates us from those rigid fundamentalists, right?
Organ only: Hymns are the only way to worship God.  Other forms of music are sneered at for being both musically and morally wrong. Guitar only: We’ve evolved.  We threw away the stale traditions.  But now we insist on whole new ones: the guitar is the only acceptable way to worship.  Who needs John Newton when you have Chris Tomlin?
King James Bible: The only “real” way to understand God is in the good King’s English of seventeenth century Europe.  Because that makes a lot of sense. Blue Like Jazz: We want “non-religious thoughts on Christian spirituality.”  We want to know God personally and experientially.  So we elevate the experience of our own culture over the experience of 2,000 years of Christian thought.

And I’m not picking on Donald Miller or his fans with the Blue Like Jazz reference; the book truly is worth a read.  But the issue is that when we elevate experience over tradition we’re only narrowing our minds rather than broadening them.

The problem with the Pharisees on the left is that in the desire to kill the sacred cows of the past, whole new herds have been raised.  Today’s Pharisees are prone to using abstract concepts such as “social justice,” “mission,” “kingdom,” etc.  While these are all concepts the Bible teaches, they often fail to move beyond abstract theory to concrete practice.

So the Pharisees on the left and right really do have a lot in common:

Self-focused: Approval – man’s or God’s – is earned through one’s individual performance.

Need to be liked: We want others to think well of us.  We want God to think well of us.  Therefore we use our religious systems – whether on the left or right – to make ourselves acceptable.

Tradition-centric: Both sides say “My tradition is the only acceptable way to experience God.”  The Pharisees on the left sneer at the stale traditions of the past, and the Pharisees on the right shake their head at the laissez faire attitudes of rising generations.

Surface shines, inside rots: In both cases, these attitudes can become masks to conceal the real issue of sin and shame.

Most will fall somewhere in between these extremes or, more likely, be some curious blend of the two.  But Jesus came neither to affirm religion nor reject it entirely: He came to redeem it, which is something different altogether.

One of the surest ways of knowing where you fall is simply this: when you encounter others, how do you measure them?  Do you measure them against Christ and His righteousness?  Or do you measure them against the standards of your own culture?  In other words, do you desire that others come to resemble Christ or come to resemble you?

If it is the latter, than God help us all.  But if it is the former, than we all fall short.

Which tells us that we don’t need the shallow, empty, hypocritical religiosity of the right or left.  What we need, then, is not less religion, but deeper, more vibrant, true religion.  And that – in at least one sense – is what Jesus came to offer.

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“Can’t No Preacher-Man Save My Soul:” Sin, Shame and Barton Hollow

The video is of the band The Civil Wars with their song “Barton Hollow.”  You have to love the chorus:

“Ain’t going back to Barton Hollow
Devil gonna follow me e’er I go
Won’t do me no good washing in the river
Can’t no preacher-man save my soul.”

Of course you notice the recurring motif of dirty hands and washing in the river in the video.  The allusion, obviously, is of baptism, the outward symbol of inner cleanliness.

But it “won’t do me no good,” the song repeats.  Many people avoid Jesus and the Church because of this very reason: “There’s no forgiving what I’ve done.”  And so many live with a persistent sense of shame.

In Luke 11:29-32, Jesus tells the crowds that this is an “evil generation” that “looks for a sign.”  The reference He then makes to the “sign of Jonah” is all about judgment over sin.  This is such a fire-and-brimstone kinda passage – it’s all about the need to acknowledge just how dirty we are, and our need to get clean.

Which means that, in a way, the lyrics to Barton Hollow are right: no “preacher-man” can save the soul.  But it also testifies to those who walk “miles and miles in…bare feet,” and never find true rest.

Many can’t seem to find a way to get rid of the stain that covers them – nothing can wash it clean.  Which is why so many turn to various ways of covering it up.

And one of the best ways of covering it up, best ways of hiding it, is through religious activity.  To “sugar over” the stain with outward displays of religious piety.  And it’s precisely that behavior that Jesus targets, a subject we’ll be exploring in some of this week’s posts.

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“The Lost World:” Winding our Way Toward Truth

If you’ve been following along, you know that these blog posts have all centered on the sermon series “The Dirt Under His Nails” at Tri-State Fellowship.  Following the message “How far is Heaven?,” we’ve looked at the way culture has a longing for “home.”

One of the ways people look for that sense of grounding, or “home” is to connect with the spiritual side of things.  And indeed, when we looked at the scene in Luke 11:18-20 on Sunday, we found Jesus standing in the middle of a place that was full of rival religious traditions.

C-SECTION

We know from the parallel texts that Jesus and His disciples were standing in a place known as Caeserea Philippi.  It contained one of the largest natural springs to feed the Jordan River, which made the whole region a very lush, beautiful place – you’d almost confuse it for a tropical vacation spot.

Though many gods were worshipped there (included variations of Ba’al in the Old Testament period), the site was best known for the worship of the Greek god “Pan.”

The spring emerged from the large cave which became the center of pagan worship.  Beginning in the 3rd century B.C., sacrifices were cast into the cave as offerings to the god Pan.  Pan was the half-man, half-goat god of fear or fright (where we get the word “panic”).  He is often depicted playing the flute.

Sacrifices were made to Pan, dating back roughly to the third century B.C.  The caves surrounding the lush region featured various “sacred niches” in which sacrifices were made, and many sculptures of Pan and his family were found.

And this was the setting in which Jesus turned to His disciples and asked: “Who do men say that I am?”  They stood not far from a tropical paradise, a place dominated by many rival religions.  Suddenly, what the disciples thought about Jesus really mattered.  Ultimately, what Jesus was most concerned with was not public opinion, but personal confession: “Who do you say that I am?”

21st CENTURY SACRED NICHES

Today’s world features many of its own “sacred niches.”  We live in a world of many different religious expressions.  We call it “pluralism.”  Positively, this means that we can celebrate the freedom for various ideas to be expressed.  Negatively, however, we must concede that this reflects a culture that says: “I reserve absolute authority to decide what I believe is true.”

But Jesus does not let us do this.  In this passage, Jesus wants priority not only over other religions, not only over the way we view other religions, but over our views toward Him personally.

FINDING GOD

This was something that the early church had to wrestle  with, especially as so many of its own members were being tortured and ripped apart by lions as a form of public spectacle.  What would possess so many to give their lives in this manner were it not true?  If all religions are superficially different yet fundamentally equal, why not take a simpler path, one that does not lead to the humiliation and agony of Christ’s cross?

When we speak of the way God communicates, we use the word “revelation.”  You most likely recognize the root word “reveal” in this word.  One of the ways that God reveals Himself is through nature: creation itself testifies to the presence of a Creator.

For some in the early church, such as the apostle Paul, the testimony of this so-called “natural revelation” was sufficient to give man responsibility toward his Creator.  Which ultimately meant that it was sufficient to condemn, but never to bring life.

But later we meet a man named Justin Martyr, a name he earned posthumously in the mid-second century.  Justin was a well-educated man.  In reading John’s account that Jesus was the logos, or “Word” of God, Justin came to believe in Jesus.  Justin believed that the logos of God, embodied in Jesus, was the same as the logos, or wisdom, of secular philosophy.

Which meant something different for Justin: contrary to some other writers of his day, Justin believed that man could not be saved through the testimony of nature but the revealed person of Christ.  And because Jesus was intimately connected to – nay, the embodiment of – logos and reason, anyone who lives according to reason (he listed Socrates as an example) was considered a Christian.  For Justin, Jesus is Jesus is “the Word of whom all humanity has a share, and those who live according to the Logos are therefore Christians..” (Justin Martyr, Apologia, I.xlvi. 1-3)

THE PATH OF BEAUTY

Justin was a brilliant man, whose focus on Jesus was admirable, though ultimately falls slightly short.  Yes, people come to saving faith in Jesus, but not merely through ideas about Him or through the principles of reason itself.  Justin presupposed a relationship based exclusively on rationality and participation in God’s gift of logic.

In recent years, the Pope has suggested that the via veritatis (“path of truth”) might be found in the via pulchritudinous (“path of beauty”).  That is, beauty leads us to truth.

This isn’t exactly new.  Jewish writings outside the record of the Bible hint at the possibility of learning God’s character through the testimony of beauty (Wisdom of Solomon 13:1-9).  Though such writings aren’t part of what the church affirmed to be God’s actual voice, they do reveal that many Jewish scholars believed that beauty draws man’s gaze heavenward.

But what about Jesus?

Isaiah’s prophecies, which ultimately point toward Jesus, tell us that Jesus “had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him” (Isaiah 53:2).  He worked as some sort of carpenter – could you tell whose furniture had been crafted by the Savior of the world, or was it all just sort of ordinary?

I’m really not quite sure.

But the beauty of Jesus was not in outward appearance any more than in His internal wisdom.  The beauty found in Jesus was the fact that He offered a way of grace.

Jesus asks each of us to stand with Him in Caeserea Philippi.  Jesus asks us to survey the spectrum of religious thought.  And finally, Jesus asks us to come to grips with what we believe about Him.  Every religious system – then and now – asks us to earn our place before God.  The beauty of Christianity is that it’s the only faith system where God comes down to us.

THE LONGING FOR UNITY

In his excellent book, The Gospel in a Pluralistic Society, Leslie Newbigin suggests that within humanity is a “longing for unity:”

“[U]nity offers the promise of peace.  The problem is that we want unity on our terms, and it is our rival programs for unity which tear us apart.  As Augustine said, all wars are fought for the sake of peace.  …It is not easy to resist the contemporary tide of thinking and feeling which seems to sweep us irresistibly in the direction of an acceptance of religious pluralism, and away from any confident affirmation of the absolute sovereignty of Jesus Christ …There is an appearance of humility in the protestation that the truth is much greater than any one of us can grasp, but if this is used to invalidate all claims to discern the truth it is in fact an arrogant claim …When the answer is ‘We want the unity of humankind so that we may be saved from disaster,’ the answer must be, ‘We also want that unity, and therefore seek the truth by which alone humankind can become one.’  That truth is not a doctrine or a worldview or even a religious experience; it is certainly not to be found by repeating abstract nouns like justice and love; it is the man Jesus Christ in whom God was reconciling the world.  The truth is personal, concrete, historical.”  (Leslie Newbigin, The Gospel in a Pluralist Society, pp. 159-61, 168-70)

All that to say that Jesus’ message is deeply personal.  The religious terms and symbols that compose the Christian faith are hardly meaningless; they lead us to a deeper, truer understanding of who Jesus was, is, and shall be.

Which means that each of us has to ask the question of who we say that Jesus is – not only for our own sakes, but also for the sake of the world.

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