(This is the sixth of eight posts in which I’ll answers questions that come up often in our church.)

Scripture's story centers on an historical event that stands up to critical scrutiny: Jesus’ resurrection. In discussing the trustworthiness of the Bible, I never start with the Bible, but with Jesus, and particularly Jesus’ resurrection. I believe with very good reasons that Jesus rose from the dead. I believe that this is the most historically likely way to explain the facts: Jesus was crucified under the authority of Pontius Pilate; his tomb was later found empty (otherwise the movement would never have gotten off the ground); the disciples believed Jesus appeared to them in a new physical body (they wouldn’t even have thought to make up the story, since they never expected Jesus to be resurrected alone within history, and it is very unlikely that they would have died for something they knew was a lie); the Christian movement was founded and took off, centrally based on this event. There have been many attempts to account for this evidence, but the only historically tenable conclusion is that something did, in fact, happen on Easter morning, and that this something was Jesus being resurrected from the dead. And this validates the rest of the story; Jesus’ resurrection proves that Jesus was God’s Messiah, and thus the world’s true Lord, which affirms the central lines of Old Testament hopes and promises. Jesus is likewise validated as the clearest revelation of Israel’s Creator God.

Its description of the world tells the truth about our world. To put it differently, it’s story fits. It describes the world truly. This is a huge point, so let me just offer an example or two. Take the story of Adam and Eve. When we free this story from questions like, ‘How did the serpent talk?’ or ‘Did Adam and Eve have belly-buttons?’ or ‘Why can’t we find the garden of Eden?’, we see that it accurately describes the human situation. We have all – as individuals and societies – listened to the voices in our world and in our heads, and chosen not to trust that God loves us and is out to do us good. We have all taken our destiny into our own hands, rejecting whatever it is we know of God’s command. We know that something is wrong with the world, and that it manifests itself in relational strife, toil, labor, and frustration from the ground (famine, drought, etc), and pain in childbearing. This story describes our world truly. There are many more ways this is true, both in general and of specific stories.
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Sorry I haven't been posting much at all. Life comes at you fast. As I mentioned in the last post, I'm in the middle of a seminar on "world religions" at Real Life called We Are Not Alone. Since I don't have much time to read or think about other stuff (like the books I recently promised to blog through) right now, what I post will probably have to do with world faiths and stuff. At the beginning of the seminar, I wanted to be honest and forthright about my assumptions coming in. There is much that I do not understand about this whole conversation, but like everyone else I have certain assumptions that I bring to the table. Here are some of the most important ones.

What can be known of God is best known by looking at Jesus. This is my way of affirming the uniqueness of Jesus as God's fullest and finalest revelation. Everyone looks at God from somewhere, even the people espousing the whole "all roads lead up the same mountain" (see the poem below). The funny thing about the poem below is that someone is assuming the position of the speaker / observer. And that person makes an implicit claim to know something about God that all the other "religions" miss. I make a similar claim, but I think the answer is not by acting as if we can step outside the historical faiths (which actually involves stepping into yet one more historical faith, this once going by various names: scientific, rationalism, enlightenment, modern, postmodern, etc), but by trusting in Jesus as the way God came to us.

Salvation is about more than what happens to individual humans after they die. First of all, salvation is God's plan for the entire universe. Salvation, for instance, is something creation (or "nature," if you subscribe to the new historical faith mentioned above) looks forward to and will participate in (Romans 8.19-21). Salvation is about all of God's creation being rescued from the disastrous effects of sin. So it is about more than just humans. Humans do nevertheless stand at the center of salvation. This is where the second part comes in; speaking of salvation in terms of humanity, it isn't just about "where we go when we die" (or, more precisely, when Jesus returns). That is certainly important, and I'd never want to deny that at all - like, at all! - but salvation is about freedom from the power of evil and sin and death right here and now. Please understand, I'm not trying to deny the importance of the future, but I am trying to remind us that asking whether a person is "saved" has as much to do with how free they are from sinful ways of thinking and living as it does where they'll go when they die. If anyone cares to ask me to elaborate, feel free and I'll try. (By the way, ARod, I haven't ignored your question; I'm just waiting until I can do it justice.)

God’s saving plan is both “universal” and “particular.” That is to say, everything God does is designed to reach the whole world and all the people in it. He never acts just for this or that group. His plans are as big as the world he created. This is a scandal to some "religious" people who want God to care about only their group. That is also to say, however, that God (for reasons unknown to me) always goes about reaching all people by working in and through particular people (or groups of people). He chose one man out of all the tribes of the earth - Abraham - and promised to bring his blessing through that one family's seed. He remained committed to Israel as his people through whom he would bless the whole world. Etc. So it comes as no difficulty to me to believe that God would remain committed to one person or group as the means through which he will bring salvation to all (or as many as will have it). This is a scandal to many "secular" people, primarily because they fail to recognize that their commitment to universality is but yet another particularity among others.

That's enough for now. I have about five more, but I'll post them bit by bit. Any questions, reflections, or disagreements?

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Second (see below), I've been thinking lots lately about the significance of confessing Jesus as "fully God, fully man." For a long time I haven't given much weight to such theological affirmations (scary, I know), because I could not see how they mattered or were essential to the Scriptural gospel. I wrote them off as fourth century Greekified aberrations from (or at least unnecessary formulations of) New Testament truth. But thanks to some suggestions from I don't remember where, I came to see that confessing this means that Jesus becomes determinative for our portrait of true divinity and our paradigm of true humanity.

That is, believing that Jesus was fully God means that any picture of "God" that isn't congruent with Jesus is not (faithfully) describing the One True God. (In my estimation, this would include the Calvinist God, as well as the God who can't allow sinful people into his presence, or who must punish people even though he doesn't want to.)

Moreover, believing that Jesus was fully human means that his whole life is a model of what it means to be truly and faithfully human. We should therefore pattern our entire lives after his life - including the so-called public or political parts - which I of course think means renouncing the use of violence even in defense of justice (among many other things).

In addition to confirming the convictions that were already developing in me, Carter highlighted a totally new thought for me in this regard. It is often said that Nicene Christology (i.e. Christ as fully God and fully man) is more Greek than Hebrew in that it separates thinking about Jesus from the actual Christ of history. That may in some ways have been the case, but Carter argues the opposite: by affirming that it was in the form of a fully human life that God embodied Godself, we can never separate our thinking of God from the specific life of this Jew from Nazareth. (This is important because otherwise Jesus becomes part of some "god" totally disconnected from us and our real lives.) Taken this way, Nicene Christology, at least in theory though often not in practice, totally affirms and protects the humanness and thus the Jewishness of our Messiah-Savior-Lord.

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This is the last of four guided meditations on the atonement, all of which are part of a “devotional” we hand out each week at our church. (The other meditations can be found below.) Parts of this were designed for the people to write in their own reflections, which of course can’t happen on a blog. Nevertheless, here it is.

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I don’t know if you’ve noticed this yet, but the Bible talks about the significance of Jesus’ death and resurrection in many different ways. The official word for this whole discussion is atonement and the various ways of looking at it are often called models or theories of atonement. Throughout history the church has echoed the Bible’s diversity by reflecting on many theories or models, and that’s what we’ve been doing this week.

We’ve seen how Jesus’ death overcomes the problems of our guilt and shame. We’ve explored Jesus’ death as a victory over cosmic powers that brings us freedom to live as God intended. Yesterday we dove into the problem of our fear of death, celebrating Jesus’ victory even over this final enemy which frees us from death’s deathly grip. And today we’re going to discuss one more, one that has been present throughout the church’s story in one form or another.

We’re going to look at Jesus’ death as an example for us to follow.

The authors of Scripture develop this one theme in many different ways too, and I should admit from the start that my hope is not to exhaust all the possible ways in which Jesus’ self-sacrificial death serves as a pattern for us to follow. My hope is rather to point to some of the ways Scripture develops this theme, suggest how we might faithfully continue following Jesus’ example, and encourage you to reflect on these things in your own life situation.

Let’s begin with this week’s memory verse. Though not specifically about Jesus’ death, it helps us understand his death’s full meaning. The verse makes a very bold statement, namely that all of God’s commands can be summed up in a single statement: “Love one another.”

Now, we all are very familiar with and fond of this teaching. Our entire culture enjoys talking about loving one another, but I fear that we often say this without knowing what it means. We must at least acknowledge that the word “love” is not self-defining. We ourselves use it in hundreds of ways, to describe everything from ice cream to our families, and I would hope that we mean something different by it in these different cases.

Love begs for a definition, and according to the Bible it finds that definition most poignantly in Jesus’ death on the cross:

This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for one another. (1 John 3.16)

Pretty powerful, isn’t it?

In other words, if we want to know how to live to please God, if we wonder what God’s will is for our lives, we need look no further than Jesus laying down his life for others.

Apparently, love means sacrificing yourself for someone else, placing their needs above your own, dying so they might live (1 Thess 5.10).

Right now I want to guide you through some of the ways other biblical authors develop this idea. Take a look at each example and reflect on how you can manifest this kind of love in your own life.

Sacrificially loving those who are in need.

Read and reflect on 1 John 3.16-18 and Luke 10.25-37

How can you put this teaching into practice?

Sacrificially loving those we lead and live with.

Read and reflect on Mark 10.35-45 and Philippians 2.3-8

How can you put this teaching into practice?

Sacrificially loving those who betray our trust.

Read and reflect on John 13.1-5 and Ephesians 4.32-5.2

How can you put this teaching into practice?

Sacrificially loving our enemies and those who attack us.

Read and reflect on Luke 6.27-36; 1 Peter 2.18-25; 3.8-18

How can you put this teaching into practice?

I firmly believe that Jesus’ example calls us to care for the poor and needy, lead and serve with humility and selflessness, forgive when wronged, and respond to insult and injury without retaliation or violence. Someone once called this way of life cruciformity. I love that word because our calling is neither more nor less than to walk as Jesus did (1 John 2.5), and Jesus’ way of life got him crucified. I have no idea what will happen to us if we actually take these teachings seriously, but I do know three things: (1) God will be very pleased with us, (2) the world will take notice of such radical love, and (3) we need not fear whatever might happen in this life because God will one day raise us from the dead.

Through his death on a Roman cross and his resurrection three days later, Jesus has saved us from ourselves – our selfishness and greed, our bitterness and anger, our hatred and violence – by showing us a new way to live and enabling us to live it.

“Father, we want to truly love. We want to reflect your love to the world. We want to love others so much that we, like you, will be willing to suffer so they might see the truth, to die so they might live. Help us to be faithful, even if that means being foolish in the eyes of the world. You were a fool in the eyes of the world – in our eyes. But we now see that in your eyes, what looks like foolishness is true wisdom, what looks like weakness is true strength, what looks like defeat is true love. Help us walk in your way of wisdom, strength, love, and truth. Help us walk as Jesus did. We ask this in his name. Amen.”

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Quiz time: I took the title of today’s entry from a recent popular movie. Anyone know what it is? I’ll give you a hint: One of the main characters said it numerous times. I’ll give you another hint: This character had tentacles. That’s right, tentacles.

The movie is of course Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End, and the character is Davy Jones. He has been given the unlovely task of ferrying dead souls to the underworld (or something like that), and each time he approaches someone about to die he asks them this question, “Do you fear death?” If they do, he offers them a chance to postpone death by joining his crew of creatures other characters in the film affectionately refer to as “the fish people.”

Anyhow, it’s a decent movie, and a great question. Do you fear death?

Today we’re going to dial back a bit and focus on one passage in particular from Scripture: Hebrews 2.14-15:

Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might destroy him who holds the power of death—that is, the devil—and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death.

Now I don’t know about you, but I find this an interesting way to characterize humanity. We are those who (apparently) fear death. It makes sense, I guess. Death is not our friend. Death is an enemy lurking in the dark, promising to steal life from us without so much as an ounce of consent.

I’ve read two books in the last year about this idea of fearing death, both of which were very interesting. The first was The Denial of Death by an anthropologist named Ernest Becker. Becker argues that fear of death is a fundamental human motivator, “an innate fear which haunts us from birth.” We fear death because we love life, so we try to deny our death in all sorts of ways: increasing our security so that we aren’t in danger, increasing our strength so we look and feel less liable to harm, seeking friendships so we aren’t alone and unprotected, improving morality so we deserve to continue living, etc. Becker calls all of these efforts “the vital lie.” He argues that in these ways we repress our knowledge of our own mortality, and also that these things rest at the root of anxiety and mental illness. Becker’s book is complex and interesting, and while there are some problems with his overall thesis, I find it fascinating that this non-religious student of human behavior comes to similar conclusions as the author of Hebrews: at the core, we human beings fear death.

The second book I read was Sin: Radical Evil in Soul and Society by Ted Peters. In the first chapter Peters traces all sinful activity back to a similar root: anxiety or the fear of loss. “Anxiety arises when we anticipate some sort of diminishment of who we are, when we anticipate the possibility that a part of us or all of us is going to die.” To put it not so simply, it is “the fright we feel at the prospect of losing our existence, of dropping into the abyss of nonbeing.”

Like Becker, he argues that we try to transcend the natural limits of life by seeking infinite existence; when threatened by death we respond in fear or frustration or perhaps even rage. Listen to his analysis of how this works: “If we find we cannot accept our own death with grace, we may embark on a path of self-delusion, painting a picture of ourselves as immortal. In this delusionary state we may seek to create our own immortality by stealing life from others. Whether through such trivial habits as harboring resentments and gossiping about our boss or through such dramatic action as military aggression wherein we capture the wealth and prestige of defeated nations, we try to steal the lifeblood of others in a misguided attempt to escape the anxiety caused by the prospect of our nonbeing. Whether by ourselves as individuals or together as a communal group, we kill – figuratively or literally – in the vain hope that someone else’s death will sustain our life. Anxiety, in short, is the sting of death affecting the living.”

Wow, that’s quite a brainful! Maybe we should all take a deep breath (or perhaps a nap)! Notice what Peters is helping us see: not only do we fear death, but our fear of death lies behind much human evil and hatred, from our private worlds to the political realm and everywhere in between.

Why have we taken this tour through the strange world of my reading list? Because I wanted to enlist the voices of trained professionals to elaborate on the simple claim that all of us, whether we notice it or not, fear death. Moreover, if we are going to live godly, healthy lives of freedom and love, we must face this fear.

So let me ask you, What would it take for us to be freed from this prison of fear? What would have to happen in order for human beings to no longer fear death?

I suggest, as you might be predicting, that God has supplied the one possible answer to this puzzle: resurrection. As a fully human person, Jesus stared death in the face and conquered it. Jesus was put to death by being nailed to a cross, but God raised him from the dead, freeing him from the agony of death, because it was impossible for death to keep its hold on him. (Acts 2.23-24)

For those of us who confess Jesus as Lord and Savior of the world, who have accepted Christ’s sacrifice on our behalf and begun to live in the freedom he brings, who have died to sin and been made alive to God, this is good news. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly also be united with him in a resurrection like his. (Romans 6.5)

It is therefore impossible for death to keep its hold on us as well. We will one day be freed from death altogether, and are now freed from its fear-filled prison.

If our fear of death leads us on a path of self-delusion, our confidence in the resurrection enables us to face the truth about who we are.

If our fear of death causes us to demean other people – especially those in authority over us – in order to prove something to ourselves, our faith in eternal life frees us to love and support everyone around us.

If our fear of death moves us to kill – literally or figuratively – in order to sustain our own life, our faith in God’s ability to raise us again liberates us to lay down our lives in self-sacrificial love.

Do we fear death? We certainly don’t have to. Let’s celebrate our Savior – the Messiah, Jesus – who has destroyed death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel (2 Timothy 1.10). Let’s walk in our newfound freedom, not only in our hearts and minds but with our hands and feet as well. Let’s live in this freedom of Jesus’ victory over death.

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Today I want to resume my posting of The Source, which I began a couple of weeks ago. I don't think I'll post the last two entries of week one, but I should say a note about them because I allude to them in today's entry. They were a two part "sinventory" in which I described the traditional seven deadly sins and listed many questions designed to make us face the reality of these sins in our own life. It's a pretty brutal exercise! Anyhow, here are the previous posts in this series:

Week 1, Day 1 - Forbidden Fruit

Week 1, Day 2 - Spiraling Downward

And here is the latest entry, which begins a week I spent exloring the atonement.
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I have been extremely excited about this week’s Source for a long time. Why? Because we are spending the week talking about one of the most important topics in the world. We will be exploring the significance of Jesus’ death and resurrection. We’ll be asking why this event matters, discussing what difference it makes.*

So let’s get started. I’ll begin with a confession. People are funny to me, especially when it comes to what we’re specifically talking about today: guilt and shame.

Every single one of us hates admitting guilt; we work hard – at times even bending the truth – to protect our innocence (or at least the idea of our innocence). If guilt is the fact that we’ve done something deserving of punishment, much of our energy is spent proving that (a) we didn’t do it, or (b) we had good, justifiable reasons for doing it. In other words, our explanations for being caught red-handed range from “I didn’t hang my sister’s baby-doll from the ceiling fan” to “I only did it because she wanted to play house instead of baseball.”

We hate feeling guilty, being guilty, and so we deny or rationalize our behavior. We do the same with shame; it’s like we think we can make it go away simply by ignoring or denying it. If guilt has to do with what we do, shame relates to who we are. Shame is the sense that something is not okay with me, the sense that I am not as I should be. If guilt is about having failed at something, shame refers to the deep sense that I am at my core a failure.

So why do I think all this is funny? Well, I think it’s funny because even though we deny our guilt and hide our shame, we secretly seek ways to massage them through the stories of others. For instance, psychologists and film analysts tell us that there is more to watching movies than mere entertainment. We watch movies, among other reasons, in order to give vent to emotions, fears, and feelings within ourselves. We like epics because we want to feel heroic; we like romantic films because we want to fall in love. There is something about seeing these human realities played out on a screen that enables us to express our feelings in a way that carries none of the dangers of authentic heroism, much less love.

Unfortunately, the same is true with guilt. For instance, we like to watch movies with “bad guys” and “good guys.” You’d think we love these because we identify with the good guys, and this is true to some degree. Some would argue, however, that watching “bad guys” allows us to release some of the pent up aggression, hatred, bitterness, resentment, and violence within us. Often without knowing it, part of us relates in some way to these characters. And since these characters usually die at the end of the film, it becomes a way for us to symbolically “kill” that part of ourselves that we hate the most – the part that makes us feel guilty and shameful.

So why the long homily on film psychology? What does this have to do with Jesus’ death and resurrection?

Everything, I would argue. This simple example from everyday life, from a central ritual of our culture, reveals something true about each of us: we do feel guilt; we are aware of our shame. Whether due to past mistakes or present habits, we can’t shake the sense that we are not okay.

And it’s true. We’re not. If you participated in last week’s Source, you’re probably still reeling from all the ugly things you learned about yourself. I know I am. It’s not easy coming to terms with the fact that I am at times envious, lustful, greedy, slothful, gluttonous, angry, and prideful. Notice that I can’t even say this without the little phrase at times. To put it in stark terms, I can’t bear the weight of my own sin. It feels weird to say that, not least because of one of our culture’s core convictions (which we should know by now is merely a cover-up job): “I’m okay, you’re okay.” I’m not okay, and you’re not either. I wish we were, but we’re not. Some of us may be better than others, but “we alike are all under sin” (Romans 3.9).

And as I pointed out last week, if it is true that there is a God who created all things, and if this God has a sense of justice and a desire to judge evil and reward good, he would be right to condemn us.

I’m reminded of words from King David’s poem in Psalm 51 (right after a string of stupidly sinful moves): “Against you, you only, have I sinned, and done what is evil in your sight; so you are right in your verdict, and justified when you judge.”

God put us here to love and care for one another, so when we injure and insult and take advantage of people, God takes it personally. God asked us to be co-creators with him, to watch over and care for the rest of the created world – waters, trees, animals, air, and all the rest – and when we exploit these things for our own selfish purposes God is not pleased. God made us to love him and to live with him in an interactive relationship, and when we refuse to allow God into our lives, God is rightfully angry.

You would be too. I know I would be. And I’m part of the problem.

A problem that God has overcome in Jesus. Finally comes the point, right? And it is good news, for it is the message that God has self-sacrificially entered into human history – into the depths of our pain – and has taken upon himself our guilt and shame.

I certainly can’t say it any better than Scripture:

God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

God made him who knew no sin to become sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.

Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us.

God forgave us all our sins, having canceled the charge of our legal indebtedness, which stood against us and condemned us; he has taken it away, nailing it to the cross.

For Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring you to God.

(Rom 5.7-8; 2 Cor 5.21; Gal 3.13; Col 2.13-14; 1Pet 3.18)

The good news of Jesus’ death and resurrection starts here: when we are at our worst, God is at his best. Because of what God has done in Jesus the Messiah, taking upon himself the consequences of our ugliness and sin, we are forgiven. As Paul puts it, “There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Rom 8.1). We are no longer defined by past mistakes or present weaknesses, but instead by the radical love of the God who suffered and died on our behalf. Our core identity is found in that we are the people for whom God has demonstrated this outrageous love.

The truest and most fundamental fact about each of us is that we are deeply loved by God. The next step on the path of freedom is trusting in this love. We must trust that God is not angry with us – that he has picked us up off the ground and cleansed us, that he is behind us, with us, for us.

“Father, ‘love’ is such a cheap word for us. We use it to talk about food and sports and hobbies. But your love is so deep; you fill this word with meaning – the meaning it’s supposed to have. You suffered on our behalf. You took upon yourself the pain that we should have had to bear, that I should have had to bear. There was no reason for you to do what you did. You would have been right to let us tear ourselves apart. But you didn’t. Instead you let us tear you apart, let us hang you on a cross to die as a criminal. Why, God? Why should such bad things happen to such a good God? I guess I know the answer: because you love us. Because you are love. You experienced the worst this world has to offer so that we might be forgiven, so that we might be free from guilt and shame. I don’t know how to trust this kind of love, but I’m trying. Help me let you love us. Help me let you love me. Amen.”

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*NOTE: I realize that I referred to his death and resurrection as one event. This was not an accident; one does not make sense without the other. It’s kind of like talking about “the founding of our country” or “our wedding”; there are numerous events within these larger umbrellas, but only together can they be fully comprehended

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Below is a paper I wrote for a Church History class on Anselm's view of the atonement (the significance of Jesus' death and resurrection). Anselm's is one of the most influential and least understood views of the atonement, and I have been participating in various discussions about atonement lately where he has come up, so I thought I'd post this. It is pretty long for a blog post, and may be a bit too academic for some, but I think it is clear and helpful. The main body of the paper is divided into three sections: exposition, evaluation, and significance. As always, I welcome your thoughts and critiques.
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Few thinkers loom as large over the landscape of Western Christian thought as Anselm, the Italian monk turned English archbishop who lived at the turn of the 12th century. His early years proved trying in that his father refused to bless his desire to enter a monastery. Leaving home shortly after his mother’s death, he soon became a monk in the Benedictine Abbey of Bec. Here he familiarized himself above all with Scripture, as well as the teachings of early fathers—especially Augustine, whose thought he took up and carried further in many of his works. Anselm was later named prior at Bec, and eventually its abbot. In 1093, he was consecrated as Archbishop of Canterbury, which time was marked by refusals to compromise with the demands of English rulers, earning him not a small amount of time in exile. Over the course of these years as monk and archbishop he produced many writings.

Anselm of Canterbury is probably best known for his arguments concerning the existence of God—especially what has come to be called the ontological argument. Though this essay explores other issues, his well-reasoned arguments for God’s existence reveal a primary characteristic of all his work, namely, the aim to explain by reason how the things he already believed made sense. This principle holds true for Cur Deus Homo (hereafter CDH), the book in which Anselm attempts to explain the rationale behind God’s chosen method for saving the world. Though not as well known, CDH arguably exceeds all his other works in terms of influence on later Christian thought. In this paper I will explore CDH’s central concept of Christ’s death as a satisfaction for sin against his own historical context. I will argue that by communicating the atonement using language and thought forms relevant to his own day, Anselm offers a helpful and yet limited account of the meaning and saving significance of Jesus’ death on the cross.

I. Exposition of Cur Deus Homo
The Latin title Cur Deus Homo may be translated “Why God Became Man” or perhaps “Why a God-Man?,” both of which illustrate his main goal of explaining according to logic the reason why God saved the world the way he did. In his own words, “For what reason or necessity did God become man and, as we believe and confess, by his death restore life to the world, when he could have done this through another person (angelic or human), or even by a sheer act of will?” (1.1). Upon this question the whole work reflects.
( Read more )

Most of you probably know that the last few weeks have been tumultuous for Beth and me. On Thanksgiving Day we learned (after ten hours in two hospitals) that our unborn baby had no heartbeat. We were devastated at first, as you might imagine, but we are moving forward and are doing okay. I'll probably right more about some of my feelings through this time later on, but in the mean time, and since I haven't had many original thoughts lately, for the next week or so I'll be posting past questions I've received from people at my church. The topics will vary as much as the questions people ask. I don't know if any of this will be interesting to anyone, but I feel the need to post something (unlike my friend Thom), and who knows which of you may either (a) share similar questions or (b) have better answers to these questions than my own. I won't change my responses at all, but I may add comments about what I might now say differently.

For lack of a better method, I'll post them in chronological form as I've received and answered them. The first one I got over a year ago. Here is the email (I'll leave out the names for anonymity's sake):

Hi Michael,

I really appreciate when you get a chance to speak @ church. I have been reading Matthew for the last couple of weeks & have come across a verse that has me a little confused. (Matthew 16:28) What did Jesus mean?

Thanks for your time,

MZ

In case you don't have a Bible, here's Matthew 16.28: I tell you the truth, some who are standing here will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.

And here was my response (unfortunately at the time I was apparently into not capitalizing things; now this strikes me as incredibly annoying, but I'm not going to take the time to fix it all):

mz,
that's a great question, and a very difficult passage to understand! i will give you my thoughts on it, and we'll see if they help. i think that the problem is that we assume we understand the meaning of the phrases Jesus uses here, when in reality our assumptions are (at least to some degree) off base. most of all, we think it obvious that "the son of man coming in his kingdom" is a reference to what we call "the second coming"--the time when Jesus comes back at the end of history to right all the wrongs and usher in the new world ("heaven" as we often call it, though the Bible uses that word a bit differently). if that is the case (that this language refers to an event still in the future even today), Jesus' statement that some of those present would witness it seems ridiculous. ( Read more )

Sorry for another hiatus. I finished Seminary recently, and have been taking a break from pretty much everything extra in my life. (I've been watching a lot of baseball.) I have some stuff planned for the blog soon, but until then I thought I'd post this summary of Jesus' life and ministry. I put this together for Beth, for her 8th grade Bible class on the Life of Christ. It is my attempt at a short and simple summary of what Jesus actually did when he was here on earth. I was thinking more about the stories about Jesus in the Gospels than statements made about Jesus in the letters. Here's what I came up with:

Jesus announced the good news of God’s coming kingdom (in fulfillment of many ancient promises). Jesus told stories about God’s coming kingdom (we call them parables). Jesus taught God’s people how to live within God’s kingdom: listen to God’s word, maintain justice and peace, keep their promises, tell the truth, love their enemies, care for the poor, trust in God’s Fatherly love. Jesus enacted God’s kingdom by healing the sick, feeding the hungry, and raising the dead. Jesus called his fellow Israelites to drop their own kingdom-agendas and accept his (this is called “repentance”). He reminded them that God had called them to be “the light of the world.” Jesus warned the Israelites that God would judge them if they didn’t repent, that God would destroy their Temple and Great City of Jerusalem. (Like a good prophet, he symbolized his warning by cleansing the Temple.) Jesus gathered twelve close followers to be leaders in his kingdom-movement. Jesus invited all the wrong people to join his movement – sinners, tax collectors, little children, the simple and unschooled, the blind and lame, the poor and destitute. Jesus challenged all his followers to be willing to lose everything – their comforts, their families, their possessions, even their own lives – for his sake and the sake of God’s kingdom. Jesus died at the hands of Roman and Jewish leaders who refused to believe that God had sent him to establish God’s kingdom. Jesus was raised from the dead by God, which proved that God had indeed sent Jesus as the promised Messiah and the world’s true Lord. In being raised from the dead, Jesus defeated evil and sin and death, so that his people might be set free from their power. Jesus sent his followers into the world to continue announcing and living out his vision of God’s kingdom, instructing them to invite all people everywhere to join this community of faith.

I'd love to hear what you like or don't like about this, what I missed, what you would have added or said differently, etc.

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Be very careful in thinking you have Jesus all figured out. He might look more like you than you realize. (Or as George Bernard Shaw said it, "God created us in his image, and we returned the favor.")

So who gets to choose?!?!







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