Musings

Proverbs Is Only One Book

by Bob Thune

As a general rule, the righteous prosper and the wicked fall under God’s judgment. That’s the basic thrust of proverbial wisdom. “The fear of the Lord adds length to life, but the years of the wicked are cut short,” says Solomon (Prov. 10:27).

The problem is that most Christians confuse proverbial wisdom with gospel truth. Having not been instructed in the nuances of biblical understanding, they read Proverbs in the same way they read Romans. They suppose that the righteous are always supposed to prosper, and the wicked never will. The prosperity gospel wing-nuts have even made such thinking into a formula: if you’re not prospering, it’s because you don’t have enough faith. Just send us a check – in faith – and God will surely prosper you in return.

Thankfully, God gave us Job to help us understand Proverbs. Job’s friends are convinced that they understand the world according to God: the righteous prosper, the wicked are judged. So when Job loses everything, his friends continually suggest that it’s because he’s sinned against God. “If you put away the sin that is in your hand, you will stand firm,” counsels Zophar (Job 11:14-15). “If you return to the Almighty, you will be restored,” says Eliphaz (Job 22:23).

But it’s not that simple, is it? Our God is in the heavens, and he does whatever he pleases. Sometimes he brings pain to the righteous just because it’s his providential plan to do so. Not because they’ve sinned. Not because “they deserve it.” Just because. Job’s friends have relationship with God reduced to a cause-and-effect formula. But Job knows that it’s not quite as simple as that. His replies are laced with beautiful sarcasm: “Doubtless wisdom will die with you! But I have a mind as well as you… Who does not know all these things?” (Job 12:2-3). Job knows Proverbs as well as his three friends. But he also has done the painful work of repentance and self-inquiry, and he knows that God isn’t punishing him for sin. There are higher, holier, more hidden purposes for his pain than simple divine retribution.

Such is the nature of true wisdom. Biblical wisdom is never formulaic. (If it were, merely memorizing the book of Proverbs would qualify one as wise.) Rather, wisdom comes from a deep knowledge of the character of God and of the complexities of life in a fallen world. The wise are those who can look at a situation and realize that the simple answer is not always the godly answer.

Agreeing with that statement is the easy part. The more difficult task is to put wisdom to work in a situation of divorce or depression or church discipline. Formulas are much easier to rely on in such matters. They safeguard those involved from the mysterious realities of Spirit-led discernment. Wisdom, after all, is so… subjective. Rules are objective. So “don’t teach me about moderation and liberty; I prefer a shot of grape juice” (Derek Webb).

At the end of the book, God weighs in on Job’s side. “I am angry with you and your two friends,” he tells Eliphaz, “because you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has” (Job 42:7).

Apparently, knowing Proverbs is not the same as knowing God.

I Feel Called

By Bob Thune

In the past week, I have had two rather puzzling conversations. In the first, a guy was convinced that God was calling him to be a part of our church. In the second, a girl was convinced that God was calling her to leave our church.

So what’s the problem? These interactions are very normal in evangelicalism. This is how we talk. We are comfortable speaking matter-of-factly about God calling us to this or that. The problem is that in both of my conversations this week, I know for a fact that there are some deeper things at work under the surface: things like approval and comfort and conflict avoidance. So the statement “God is calling me” seems shallow and contrived rather than deep and theological. And this whole matter is making me pessimistic about what it means for God to call people to this or that.

On the one hand, I affirm the personal, visceral sense of the Holy Spirit’s moving in someone’s life. God does that. I’ve felt it. I am in ministry because I sense God’s calling on my life in this way. And this is the language we should be using if we really believe that God is intimately acquainted with all our ways (Ps. 139:3) and actively directing our steps (Prov. 16:9).

On the other hand, it seems like “God is calling me” is a convenient trump card to avoid talking about deeper issues. We are quick to invoke the hand of God upon our decisions because it keeps us from having to deal with the realities of the Fall – things like uncertainty and doubt and selfishness.

For example, God could indeed be calling me to go to a new church. Or, I could be (selfishly) dissatisfied with my old church and looking for some greener grass. I could be running from conflict. I could be avoiding some relational tension that my actions have caused in the community. I could be falling into consumerist patterns (see Will's recent post here). In fact, when everything is weighed in the balance, the chance that I’m protecting my own comfort dramatically outweighs the possibility that God Himself is calling me elsewhere.

So I’m wondering today: why are we so quick to invoke the Almighty as the cause of our actions? What would be wrong with letting the responsibility rest with us? We could just as easily say, “I’ve decided to attend a different church.” Such a response would keep God’s sovereignty in play while at the same time leaving plenty of room for selfish mistakes or mistaken discernment.

I’m interested to hear your thoughts on this issue. I have more to say, but I sense God calling me to stop writing now.

Da Vinci Code: The Earth Is Flat!

by Bob Thune

A well-known Christian organization sent me a piece of mail last week announcing a new strategy to "rebut [the] lies about Jesus" that are put forth in The Da Vinci Code movie.

The hype is just beginning. The evangelical hype, I mean. This is the next big thing for outreach! I have in my possession books by two well-known authors which purport to set the record straight. Churches are planning whole sermon series around this movie.

Are there historical falsehoods in The Da Vinci Code? Yes. Do those falsehoods challenge the orthodox Christian tradition? Yes. Is it our job to “demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God” (2 Cor 10:5)? Yes. So I appreciate the efforts of those who would challenge heresy and reassert orthodoxy.

But something rubs me the wrong way about this “evangelical response to The Da Vinci Code.” It seems to me like we’re a little too excited about defending the truth. Sometimes, in our passion to make sure people get the right version of the story, the church comes off looking like the Wizard of Oz – as if we’re trying to keep people from looking too carefully behind the curtain.

See, the thing about truth is that it just IS. Truth is true. It doesn’t necessarily need to be defended. The Old Testament word for glory – as in the glory of God – is a word that means weighty. The truth is heavy. If someone wishes to argue for the flatness of the Earth, thoughtful people don’t spend much time debunking that claim. We let the truth speak for itself. But when it comes to The Da Vinci Code, we Christians seem to be worried that the weight of God’s glory in Christ will be obscured by some wrong ideas in a work of popular fiction.

So I’m wondering: what would it be like if the church let truth defend itself? What if our response to Dan Brown’s version of the story was simply to smile and laugh and shake our heads, the same way we would toward flat-earth theorists? Would not such a response prove more thought-provoking than our frantic rush to defend orthodoxy?

“The line between fact and fiction may very well blur, and many men and women will leave theaters with very wrong ideas about Christ,” said the letter I received. I’m trying to imagine a similar letter directed at false views of science: “…many men and women will leave theaters with very wrong ideas about the shape of the earth!”

Apparently we don’t consider the truth about Jesus to be as well established as geology or cosmology. If we did, would we feel the need to defend it so vigorously?

The Subculture is After Me

by Bob Thune

Are you trying to disengage from the Christian subculture? Are you striving to live in the actual world instead of the Christian bookstore pseudo-world? It’s not so easy. I'm learning that if you plant a church, the subculture will find you.

We started a new church about 6 months ago. We did all the important stuff to make it legal: registering with the state, getting approval from the IRS, signing up for a bank account. Unfortunately, the stuff that makes you legal is also the stuff that puts your information out there for salesmen to see.

Now I’m up to my ears in junk mail and telemarketing phone calls and unsolicited email. All Christian, of course. All offering their services to our church in a nice, friendly, Christianized manner.

Look, Christian subculture: I realize you’re just doing your job. If there wasn’t money to be made off of Christians, you wouldn’t exist. So I know it’s not really your fault. But this has got to stop somewhere. So I’m going to answer all your requests at once:

No, I don’t want to order pre-printed bulletins for my church service. No, I don’t want to download thousands of free art images for worship. No, I’m not going to sign up for the presidential prayer team. No, I am not interested in an exclusively Christian health insurance provider. No, I don’t want to hire your consulting firm to help me launch a capital campaign for a new facility. And no, I don’t feel bad for not returning your phone calls. You may love Jesus, but you’re still telemarketers.

Our church’s business isn’t going to make you rich anyway. We’re a pretty small band of disciples. So I’ll tell you what: we’ll keep pursuing the mission of God. If we happen to require your services, I’ll contact you.

Until then... leave a voice mail and I’ll pray about calling you back.

Community and Idolatry

by Bob Thune

Will and Brett and I have talked and written a lot about how gospel-centered living is a communal endeavor. It’s one thing to write that; it’s another thing to watch it work in the lives of real people. (The test of true theology is always in the fruit.)

Besides writing for the Musings blog (which is, of course, my primary occupation), I am privileged to serve a missional church plant in the heart of America. Cindy is one of the women in our community who’s far enough along in life to have her school debt paid off. Some recent teaching about heart idolatry got her thinking (and writing) about how living in light of the gospel is a “community project.” Here are her thoughts:

Although I could probably make a lengthy list of all of the idols I observe my brothers and sisters worshipping, I think I’ll pass in the interest of the giant log hanging out of my own eye.

Spiritual Transformation is currently a focus of my church life, my family life and my personal life. I am a fairly introspective person; inner dialogue with God and meditation on the Word come naturally to me. I am accustomed to seeking out my idols privately – and keeping them that way! It is a very vulnerable feeling to be new in a body of believers who are dedicated to honestly exploring what hinders my spiritual growth. It is also crushingly beautiful to witness the GRACE of God in the empathy, acceptance and love seen in the eyes of His people and felt in the loving embrace of their arms. I am falling in love with the Body of Christ in a way that is difficult to describe but wonderful to experience.

At first I thought I was getting a handle on sins by naming them: anxiety, crabbiness, “struggling with juggling”, perfectionism, business, tardiness, critical thoughts and jealousy. Then I would confess, confess, and confess (privately of course). The next day I would start all over again – very tiring and very boring and very discouraging.

Because of our Lord’s unending love and faithful provision, He uncovered this huge idol – firmly established, fat, and arrogantly demanding that I bow down. I could call it fear or doubt, but that still is not really quite accurate. Those two only led me to the big one: pride. I am an approval addict and willingly find gratification in it instead of in Jesus. I confess that I found in myself a core of mistrust and unbelief, as I stand under the cross looking into the face of a dying Jesus. “O what a wretched man that I am…” (Rom. 7:24).

After some twenty-odd years of Spirit filled living, I am learning that putting away the idols we find in the Body of Christ is a community project which starts with an individual choice. I do not doubt that the Lord will win out in this struggle of mine. His grace is all the world to me.

Where Did You Get Your Spectacles?

by Bob Thune

It seems that whatever I write here stirs healthy debate. I really don’t think I’m a contentious person. Perhaps I just make friends with contentious people. I don’t know. But once the debate is open… might as well keep it stirring. GK Chesterton described himself in Orthodoxy as “a person only too ready to write books upon the feeblest provocation,” and I confess I share his weakness.

Some of my writing has surrounded the topic of how general revelation (God’s revelation of himself through nature and the created order of things) relates to special revelation (God’s revelation of himself in Scripture). I stand squarely on the shoulders of John Calvin in this matter, who suggested that Scripture serves as a pair of “spectacles” which allow us to correctly see and interpret what’s already there in nature:

Just as old and bleary-eyed men and those with weak vision… can scarcely construe two words, but with the aid of spectacles will begin to read distinctly; so Scripture, gathering up the otherwise confused knowledge of God in our minds, having dispersed our dullness, clearly shows us the true God (Institutes 1.6.1).

Last week I wrote, “Some of the readers of this blog really don't seem to like general revelation. I get the feeling from talking to them that a conversation doesn't count as Christ-honoring and Bible-revering and truly evangelistic unless it includes a chapter and verse.” Said readers took me to task in various ways for this statement, mainly by quoting lots of chapters and verses.

I really don’t think anyone disagrees with my positions on these things; perhaps they only question the way I phrase them. But allow me an argument that (in theory at least) might lay the debate to rest.

All of us who are orthodox, evangelical Christians affirm the sufficiency of sacred Scripture and its role as our truest guide. It is God-breathed, and true in every respect, and speaks to us as God’s authoritative Word (insert various Scripture references here). I affirm my Bible-quoting brethren in their love for the Word and their submission to its truth. Would that all evangelicals held the Bible with similar reverence!

Commenters on this blog have held that Scripture is entirely sufficient to bring conviction and conversion. They have held Scripture as so efficacious that I have questioned whether they think the Holy Spirit plays any role. They have worked hard to exalt special revelation above general revelation, rightly perceiving that (as Calvin held) humans tend to wrongly interpret general revelation and need the correcting influence of the Bible.

But even the ability to hold this view depends on general revelation. Why? Because to have a high view of Scripture, you have to be able to read.

And the Bible doesn’t teach you how to read.

In fact, I learned how to read and write in a thoroughly God-less, state-run educational system. My teachers held no convictions about the primacy of Scripture.

Reading and language are matters of general revelation. God gave us language. And he gave it to us so that we might know him.

So I ask: is general revelation or special revelation more important? Yes.

Saint and Simpleton

by Bob Thune

Some of the readers of this blog really don't seem to like general revelation. I get the feeling from talking to them that a conversation doesn't "count" as Christ-honoring and Bible-revering and truly evangelistic unless it includes a chapter and verse.

If a strong doctrine of general revelation makes me the bad guy, I'm okay with that. And if THAT's the case, I suppose the fact that I was reading Thomas Merton last week won't gain me any additional points with the aforementioned readers. It's okay, I'm used to it. I don't expect everyone to love a guy like Merton. His theology is pretty bad. But he has some keen insights into life. And if you don't believe you can learn good and true stuff from people you don't agree with, then your world is pretty small. And so is your doctrine of Providence.

In Merton's view, what makes a saint a saint is that he (or she) can speak sublimely about the world and God's relation to the world (i.e. general revelation):

A saint is capable of talking about the world without any explicit reference to God, in such a way that his statement gives greater glory to God and arouses a greater love of God than the observations of someone less holy, who has to strain himself to make an arbitrary connection between creatures and God through the medium of hackneyed analogies and metaphors that are so stupid they make you think there is something the matter with religion.

And the reason for the difference is that the saint knows that the world and everything made by God is good, while those who are not saints either think that created things are unholy, or else they don't bother about the question one way or another because they are only interested in themselves.

-- from Seeds of Contemplation, 1950

Leave it to a monk to think deeply and then say it like it is.

Mission Is A Means of Grace

by Bob Thune

The term means of grace has fallen out of use in our day and age. But our Protestant forefathers were fond of this verbiage. They saw grace as a pretty interactive thing. The Westminster Larger Catechism states: The outward and ordinary means whereby Christ communicates to his church the benefits of his mediation, are all his ordinances; especially the Word, sacraments, and prayer; all which are made effectual to the elect for their salvation.

In other words, the disciplines of the Christian life are God’s means of conveying his grace to us. Grace isn’t magic. We grow as we obey. We all know this intuitively. Modern writers like Jerry Bridges (The Disciplines of Grace) and Dallas Willard (The Spirit of the Disciplines) have picked up on these themes. Theologian Robert Reymond illustrates the truth in a more down-to-earth manner: just like my physical body needs food to grow, so I need spiritual food to grow spiritually. The means of grace are “spiritual food.” If God wanted to, he could give me a spiritual IV tube, instantly imparting to me everything I need for spiritual growth. But normally he does not. He provides spiritual food and expects me to partake of it.

But we have a problem. Okay, I have a problem. (I'll speak for myself). I have a very transactional view of grace, which affects how I think about the means of grace. I get stuff from God, and then I give stuff back to God. I know, theologically that’s a total mess. But I’m just telling you how I really think sometimes. In my mind, certain Christian activities are the REAL means of grace. You know: going to church, reading the Bible, praying, being in community with people, having others speak into my life. Things where I’m clearly on the receiving end.

Then there are the times when I’m clearly on the giving end. You know: mission, service to others, helping a friend in need. These are the times when I’m giving back to God in light of what he’s given me. Right?

Except that’s never how it works. Because the times when I feel most spiritually alive – the times when I really sense God’s grace working deeply in my soul – are the times when (I think) I’m giving to others. Like this morning, when Brent and me were talking with a friend of ours about his need to surrender to Jesus and accept God’s gracious gift of salvation in Christ. That conversation was the most fun I’ve had this week.

The Bible, of course, confirms what I intuitively sense, and corrects my faulty thinking. What do you have that you did not receive? And if you did receive it, why do you boast as though you had not received it? (1 Cor. 4:7). For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them (Eph. 2:10).

Mission is a means of grace. The things I think I do “for God” are in reality His means of grace to me. Which makes me a lot more excited about them. Because doing them for God isn’t nearly as fun as having Him do them in me.

Individual But Not Individualistic

by Bob Thune

The imperatives of the New Testament are to be interpreted individually, but not individualistically.

In The Kingdom of Couches (see sidebar), we made a plea for communal spiritual formation. We suggested that community is not a part of the Christian life; it is the Christian life. We gave a grid for practicing some of the spiritual disciplines (prayer, Scripture reading, confession, and so on) in a communal way. Individualism is simply unbiblical.

But the individual isn’t. The emphasis on community does not negate the necessity of personal, individual obedience. Will has pointed out that all of the commands in the NT are addressed to a community of believers, and therefore they should be obeyed communally (“confess your sins to one another,” James 5:16). Some have taken this too far. A pastor in my own city suggested that since the Great Commission was given to the disciples, it doesn’t apply to me or you. And Bible scholar NT Wright has made waves by rethinking justification as inclusion into the people of God (communal) rather than God’s declaration of “not guilty” toward an individual.

Our idol in America is individualism, and so any emphasis that rights the ship and calls us back to our communal identity as Christ’s body is welcomed and needed. But we must always remember that “the whole body… grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work” (Eph 4:16). We can only be the body if we as individuals are being transformed by the gospel of grace. Personal and communal. It's not either-or, it's both-and.

What's Missing in Worship

by Bob Thune

For the past six months some friends and I have been hard at work shaping a new community of faith. It’s great fun, but the down side is that we’re immersed in our own microcosm of Christianity. This past weekend I had the privilege of stepping out of that world and worshiping in a large church in a different part of the country.

But something didn’t feel quite right. The whole morning, I had that nagging sense of “something’s missing.” Was it something about the music? No… it might not have been “my style,” but it was God-honoring and well-done. Was it the preaching? No… standard, orthodox, biblical exposition was the fare of the day. Was it something about the feel of the place? No… the people were warm, the building was pleasant, the service seemed God-focused.

Suddenly, a word caught my attention. “Celebration.” The pastor had already referred to the “celebration folder,” which was apparently this church’s preferred moniker for that piece of folded paper that the usher hands you when you enter. Now the worship leader was using the word again, in a prayer, as he paused to tell God that we were here to “celebrate His goodness.” Obviously celebration was the order of the day. But I didn’t feel very celebratory, so I paused to check my spirit and ask why. What was keeping me from celebration?

Then it dawned on me. Never in the service had there been a time of corporate confession. Never had I been encouraged to confess my sin. From the moment I walked in the door, I was expected to “celebrate.” As if celebration is something that just naturally happens when Christians get together.

Some readers who only read half their Bibles (i.e. the New Testament half) will counter that celebration should just naturally happen (lament Psalms notwithstanding). Others will mistake me for a critical person who’s simply looking for something to rant about. Both are severely misguided. Confession is not a personal preference; it is a biblical mandate, and it’s critical to the proper worship of God. Yet it is the one thing missing from almost every mainstream evangelical worship service today.

“Well, you should take care of that before you come to worship,” some might say. Great point. Two counter-arguments: 1) Who actually does that, consistently? and 2) Why has the historic church always seen confession as a corporate thing, to be done when the body gathers together (as well as individually)?

When people in the Bible meet God, the first thing they recognize is their own unworthiness (see Isaiah, Moses, Gideon, et al). In David’s most poetic confession, Psalm 51, he says, “I know my transgressions, and my sin is always before me.” This is the truth for all of us who live under the Fall: our sin is always before us. Even in worship. Which means we have two options: we can either confess our sin or ignore it.

The evangelical church needs to recapture the practice of corporate confession. When churches urge people to “celebrate” without confession (or when they assume that private confession is “good enough”), they are essentially teaching people to ignore their sin and fake happiness. So we shouldn’t be surprised if that’s exactly what Christians learn to do. And we shouldn't be surprised if our "celebrations" seem a little less than celebratory.