Rebuilding Sand: an Unorthodox Theology of Death

Death is a reminder for the living that we’re still human – built more like glass than stone – we cannot and we should not walk alone. For some of us, death is the final moment of life. For others, it is the day the Lord has called us home. For others, still, it is when the departed get the answer to that “never ending why” and the living have lost someone dear. With great sorrow, death is no stranger to the life of this author. There are two things I wonder, where does God play a role and what would we do without friends and family to support us? In the first case, my recently deceased grandmother would say “pray.” In the second, I know we all reach a point when we have to lean upon the love of others to endure.

Honestly, I don’t think faith means answers and that is not always an easy pill to swallow when facing grief and hardship. Personally, my theology on death has very little for answers. It makes the hearts and minds of the living cry the tears of the forsaken. Doubt is sure to creep in. If God is the creator of people and giver of love and grace (as myself and countless others believe) then detailed systems of repentance, decisions for Christ, or even an understanding of God are irrelevant. The Lord has called many of my loved ones home and the details of what they believed or didn’t seem pretty trivial in light of this short breath we call life. I know they are with God regardless of their theology. Death is a mystery of life and of God for the living and we will need some form of comfort.

Thus, the body of Christ is the people that stand by our side as we, the living, mourn. Community is such that we need others to cry with, laugh with, converse with, love, and share in each other’s sorrow. Our friends and family can take glass that’s crumbled to sand and turn it into something strong like stone – strong because we are not alone and because we hurt and suffer together – this is the body of Christ. In doubt, suffering, hardship, loss, and the pain of life may we recognize the need for community support; all the while, praying, even if we don’t have words to say to God. If I have ever “lived the impossible,” as I’ve said before, I have not done it alone – I could not do this alone – I need people to support me, and whether I like it or not, I need God’s hope to carry on.   

Practicing what I Preach...or Trying to

Life is short. Perhaps I’m about to preach to myself, but life is too short to stay pissed off. Initially, theories of atonement were on the agenda for this post, but that wasn’t going places. In searching for a topic that wasn’t deeply personal, a discussion on morals seemed like a good second choice. Ironically, writers-block opened the door to speak about something that matters more than atonement models or moral debates. “Will you practice what you preach; would you turn the other cheek?” Life is too short to stay pissed off, but it’s awful easy to forget that truth.

Dear LOTH church,

You probably won’t read this, but I have some important words for you. I’m sorry I failed you, I’m sorry we parted ways in the fashion we did, I’m sorry I never got to say goodbye, I’m sorry most of your members don’t know what happened, I’m sorry that the circumstances of departure hurt me, I’m sorry that people have had to hear me vent about this for a year, and I’m sorry I let it get to me all this time. Most of the time, I miss you; so, I want you to know all is forgiven. Life is too short to stay pissed off; it hasn’t eased my pain, it hasn’t helped me be the minister I’m called to be, and it hasn’t helped me to practice what I preach. May we walk together, yet on separate paths, in the grace and forgiveness of our Lord. From the bottom of my heart, peace and love to you. Consider this the goodbye I owed you one year ago.

Sincerely,

Tim

P.S. As I looked at my dad’s broken and battered body, a few weeks ago, I was reminded that life is too short and that some things don’t matter as much as we make them seem.

As someone who teaches and preaches, I’ve learned from every young person I’ve ever led. I’ve learned from their families. I’ve learned from the classroom. I’ve learned from books. I’ve learned from friends. I’ve learned from my own family. I’ve learned from the mysteries of God and the trials of life. If you are like me, it is time to make our houses homes, it is time minister while being ministered to, it’s time to practice what we preach – turning the other cheek – and extend grace (even if it doesn’t make sense).

God is Personal: The Human Relationship to God

For nearly three years, all I’ve been able to do is grumble in disgust at the words, “Personal Relationship with God.” Today, I’m getting personal with God. Considering that I’m not a deist (most days) and that I would like to believe God is active in this world, it is difficult to deny the likelihood that God is personal. Consequently, God is also relational. But, I’m not talking about some touchy-feely, mushy, psychosexual-deism. Jesus is not my “homeboy;” Jesus is our redeemer, God is our creator, and the Holy Spirit has given us the gift of faith. We are inherently connected to the divine, which means we have a relationship to God, and it is undoubtedly personal.

 

As creator, God made us, gave us this earth, and said this is, “for you” (Gen. 9). As redeemer, God died for us and declared our forgiveness (Matt. 26:26-30). As spirit, God gave us grace and set us free (Rom. 8). How can I not take that personal? At a finite level, when I create something (this blog, songs, poems, etc.) it is deeply personal. If I make sacrifices of myself for others, it is immensely personal. If I give someone a gift (without expectation of reciprocation) or receive a gift, it is heartwarmingly personal. Yet, I’m a finite human being; if creation, sacrifice, and gifts are personal for me, how much more are they personal for God?

Honestly, personal isn’t always pleasant and relationships aren’t without pain. God may have made us and gave us this earth, but this doesn’t mean we were all given an equal or, seemingly, fair portion. God may have given us the spirit, which sets us free, but we are still here to toil and groan (Rom. 8:22-23). God may have given the ultimate sacrifice for our redemption and forgiveness, but that doesn’t stop life’s pain.

Finally, from August 3, 2010 to August 3, 2011; I’ve had one reason after the other to groan and get personal with God. Unemployment, girlfriend troubles, Mono, injured hamstring, ex-girlfriend, bankruptcy, and severely injured father; with a list like that in twelve months, it might be easier to be a deist. Conversely, I believe God is personal and relational; having compassion upon my pain, my hardship, and my groaning. I’m all for getting personal with God, even if personal isn’t some pretty, peachy, cozy, façade. God suffered for us; God suffers with us.

Human Suffering: Why?

Three years ago, I was asking a lot of questions about God, faith, and theology – even going so far as denying the existence of God. Nevertheless, asking those heavy questions made for a short dance with Atheism, which led to the foot of the cross, a message of grace, and a deeper understanding of what I believe and why I believe it. At that time, my pastor was talking with me about life, how intense my life has been, and if I ever pondered why me and my family go through a lot of hardship. I said, “No, I’m kind of used to it.” Today, I’m asking, “Why?”

I’ve never had much of a theology of human suffering and I stopped believing in Dispensationalism many years ago. If justification (salvation) is not about Eschatology (the end times) and God doesn’t cause our hardships, then why are some protected and sheltered, while others suffer? God must be saving us for something; if not, I don’t have a clue what I’m being saved from. Admittedly, my life has been a bit of a monsoon and it keeps raining hard and heavy – at some level I can live with this – but not today. I’ve watched people hurt, suffer, mourn, weep, die, and bleed more than I’ve ever gotten to see them blessed, smiling, laughing, and “living the dream.”

However, I’m a minister, a biblical scholar, and a theologian; therefore, I’m bound to have some view on this human suffering thing. Human suffering sucks, it’s not balanced in a socialist aspect across humanity, everyone can face hardship, and God allows it. Often, people blame God for the bad stuff in this life. Honestly, I think that’s because people don’t know why. It’s not God’s fault that my sixty-two year old father, who has more health issues than I can list, fell down a flight of stairs, breaking his back for the second time – but, it does piss me off.

Finally, I’m asking “why?” I’m tired of being “used to it.” I’m angry that I have to watch my dad slowly deteriorate every day from a chronic disease, I’m angry that this poor man has to endure a broken back – for the second time – on top of a life threatening disease, and I’m angry that someone, whom I love very much, has sacrificed everything for me; only to suffer for thirty years. In turn, I look to the God I believe to be gracious and loving, and ask a “never-ending why?” 

   

Pieces

An ego of shattered glass…

A broken mirror taped back together…

A well of tears bursting forth…

The dam walls no longer hold them….

Pieces of a failure…

Anything but glue…

Watching you take the pain…

Nothing for the walls to lean on….

 

The remains of a loser…

Held together by scars…

A blood-stained cross…

What’s left of the walls; a dirty pool called grace….

A heart of sand…

All that’s left of ground up concrete…

Yet tears rain, rain, rain…

The dam is broken…

The pool is flooding…

 Reflections of ego in the tear-covered walls….

The God Who Wasn't There: a Scholarly Response

The documentary film, The God Who Wasn’t There, by Brian Flemming makes a lot of statements, but not all of them are obvious to the film’s creator. The filmmaker is a former Fundamentalist-Christian, turned Fundamentalist-Atheist. Thus, his interpretive lens is trapped by his past and present bias; unable to see Christianity, its scriptures, its doctrines, or traditions outside of that Fundamentalist viewpoint. Strategically, the documentarian attempts to turn “Moderate Christians” and Fundamentalist Christians against one another, by claiming that Fundamentalists have it right. In the film, Flemming uses historical criticism and literary criticism to bolster his anti-theology. However, his historical criticism is weak, his literary criticism fails miserably, and he completely ignores any cultural analysis.

In a historical timeline, the documentarian refers to the time between the gospel events and the gospel recordings, as the period “everyone forgot.” He goes on to state that this was a forty year time span. As for forgetting, in the words of scholar Rowan Williams, “There is little or no trace in the first Christian decades of a Christianity unmarked by devotion to Jesus as a living agent.” In contrast to the film’s proposed 70 A.D. authorship, of the gospel accounts, and the forty year gap between events and their recordings: the first accounts of Mark could be as early as 65 A.D. (Christopher Tuckett). Additionally, Paul’s letters to the Thessalonians and Galatians were recorded around 50 A.D. (Markus Bockmuehl). Okay, so what, the film’s historical timeline is off by two, possibly three, decades; Flemming still has literary criticism.

In conjunction with the filmmaker’s weak historical criticism, there are at least three major literary criticism failures. The first, claiming that “God isn’t a moderate,” the film quotes Luke 19:27 for support, and ignores that this is the end of a parabolic text. In other words, Jesus was telling a story. The second, inferring that Paul never thought Jesus was, “on Earth,” the documentary uses a quote from a verse in the book of Hebrews. Yet, if “nobody told Paul,” why does he mention Jesus’ interaction with Peter and the twelve (1 Cor. 15:3-7)? Nevertheless, many scholars – conservative and liberal alike – indicate that we don’t know the author of the book of Hebrews.

The third fail, claims that the Gospel according to Mark was not based on history; this automatically implies that the accounts of Matthew, Luke, and John weren’t either – because the documentarian, Brian Flemming, says they all came from Mark’s account. Using the film’s position against itself – because the Synoptic Problem (Matthew and Luke) and the Two-level Drama concept (John) are too great for the scope of this post – if the events of the gospel accounts were not historical, why did non-Christian figures in history, like Josephus, mention that Jesus was put to death by Pilate? Perhaps, The God Who Wasn’t There showed up in the scholarship. Perhaps, The God Who Wasn’t There is gracious enough to redeem a trapped interpretive lens. Perhaps, The God Who Wasn’t There is no reduced God, to this “Moderate Christian.” The God who is there, died for you.


 For more thoughts on this film visit:The Logic of the Cross.

 

CFA: the Hegemony of the Human Will

There is nothing greater than the grace of God, brought forth through the cross event. Nevertheless, even in the grace of Christ’s redeeming work, we can become control freaks. “Hello, my name is Tim, and I’m a control freak.” Preachers have given sermons, Theologians have written discourses, and Apostles have proclaimed the truth; humanity is infected with a chronic illness called sin and it deceives us.

In turn, this condition of sin is nothing new. The Apostle Paul said, “For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate” (Romans 7:15, NRSV). Thus, I welcome you to CFA (Control Freaks Anonymous). As a professional grace pusher, I know that the grace of God trumps the effects of sin. As a human, I know that we live with this tension of sin and grace. The human will is “mutable” – forever changing and fickle – and cannot willingly cling to this divine promise of grace that is beyond its comprehension.

As a result, we are addicts of the sin that ails us, and the only cure is the unmerited grace of God. Translation, we are not in control, but we’re fixated on the illusion of control. Certainly, we could blame an American workaholic attitude for our false conceptions of control and perfection, but this is a symptom of a greater condition. Still, if grace is the cure, why are people, like me, control freaks? Our human will is in a state of hegemony – it perceives that it is free to do all things, through its own determination; yet, it is a slave to addiction, blind to illusions of its own creation – and this is the result of our sin condition.

However, there is hope because this hegemony is not the work of God. “Wherefore, the work of Satan is, so to hold men, that they come not to know their misery, but that they presume that they can do all things which are enjoined” (Martin Luther, The Bondage of the Will). Therefore, I confess that I am a control freak (insistent that my determination will endure the hardships of life) and only the grace of God, illuminated in the cross event, can cure my condition and heal my addiction.

This post was inspired, influenced, and "standing on the shoulders" of the words and story of a "Sarcastic Lutheran".