The Meek Will Inherit the Earth

          “People will do things in cars that they’d never do face to face.”

          These are the words of a friend who worked in road construction for many years.  He was describing a general spirit of meanness which people, perturbed by a slow-down in traffic, were apt to exhibit toward each other or the construction crews.  He went on to say that when people get behind the steering wheel of an automobile the standard of human civility and patience seems to drop a significant percentage.

          I remembered his words after my traffic encounter today.  I was on a bicycle climbing the crest of the hill on Hubbard Road in Bethlehem, and just as I began to pick up speed on the other side, someone in a pickup truck passed me and then turned into a side road no more than five feet in front of me.

          I tried to make eye-contact in his rear-view mirror as I lifted up one free hand as if to say, “What?  You couldn’t wait five seconds for me to be out of the way before you made your turn?”

          For his part, he offered me the standard one-finger salute which by now is surely a sign of a lack of imagination, but which implies that either I was in the wrong (which I wasn’t), or he was just plain mean (which I doubt). 

          You see, I suspect here was a man who, when out of his pickup, is a hard worker, a loving husband and father, and a tithing churchman, but something about the anonymity of painted sheet metal and four wheels turned him into someone even he wouldn’t recognize when he looks in the mirror.

          I know that bicycles aggravate people in cars.  Some of my best non-cycling friends have admitted they’d like to get rid of all those people in Lycra shorts and rainbow-colored jerseys.  The typical complaint is that cyclists slow the traffic and don’t we all know that everyone is always in a hurry.  And, yes, I know that some cyclists are rather arrogant or cavalier on their steeds.  My apologies, but maybe we’d all be better off if we all slowed down.  Apparently, moving fast in cars hasn’t made us a kinder, gentler species.  In my experience, cars just make us all more short-tempered and less tolerant of each other, although my life as a cyclist has curtailed my bad car habits tremendously.

          But consider this, we’re going to be out of oil in another generation.  Bicycles will start looking pretty good by then.  But, if you haven’t ridden since you were fifteen years old, you might have a hard time getting back on the saddle when you’re eighty.  As for me, I plan to be riding until I can’t get out of a chair by myself.

          I’ll always be cautious around people in cars.  After all, sitting on a twenty pound bike, going fifteen miles per hour, I can’t very well argue with two tons of steel going forty-five or better.  I tend to feel rather meek sitting on the saddle of my Schwinn.  So, pickup truck driver, I’m sure you’re basically a decent guy, but please be a little kinder next time, as a favor to this traveler using a more fragile means of transportation.  And, oh yeah, don’t forget - the meek will inherit the earth.  

 Tell US DOT: Bicyclists' Safety Counts
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Anything Is Possible

It was a presentation by Richard Dawkins that caused the phrase, “anything is possible,” to stick in my head.  Dawkins is a world-renowned scientist and militant atheist who has opened many eyes to the wonders of the cosmos, while also decrying the negative influences of religion throughout the history of humankind.

I am enthralled with Dawkins’ explanations of how the physical world works, but find him surprisingly unsophisticated in his understanding of metaphysics – he sees the dark underbelly of religion but fails to see its beauty, goodness, or truth – which seems very “unscientific” a position to take.

In any case, as Dawkins once described the subatomic world with the phrase, “anything is possible,” my eyes were re-opened to the wonders of the universe that God has made.  Contrary to Dawkins intention, “anything is possible,” opens the door to all sorts of miracles.  By faith I had always assumed that God could do anything, but when a celebrated scientist confirmed the endless possibilities that exist in creation, I had to pause in awe of a God who indeed made a world in which “anything is possible.”  The blind may see, the lame walk, stormy seas grow calm, and stony hearts become tender.  Miracles happen. 

More recently, I was attending a retreat in which the leader, Nicole Greer, asked us to draw a line representing the continuum of our lives, and then to mark an “X” where we thought we were in our lives.  The participants were of different ages, so our “X’s” were in different places, but I was estimating that I had another 35 years or so left in my life.  And then Nicole said, “What can you do in 35 years?”  And I couldn’t help responding, “Almost anything.”  Anything is possible.  I have worked as a pastor for almost 29 years.  So, what could I do with another 35 years?  Well, almost anything is possible. 

I was amazed at how that simple exercise opened my eyes to how many open doors I might still go through.  In 35 years I could even go back to school and learn something completely new.  In 35 years I could learn how to build cedar strip canoes and kayaks (a secret yearning).  In 35 years I could mentor or tutor several children who are struggling in school.  In 35 years, wow!  Anything is possible.

I suspect most of us live with the sense that each passing year closes more doors and limits our options more and more, so that we begin to feel hemmed in by our limitations (speaking metaphysically – our mortality).  But Nicole Greer and Richard Dawkins helped me see that there is no need to feel such constraints.  We are free to choose a new path.  The door is open.  Anything is possible.

It's Good Work If You Can Get It

“Living on the surface and in the present bereft of strong echoes of the past, we are (occasionally) happy, but rarely truly joyous.” --- Miroslav Volf

Everybody wants to be happy.  We live in a country where the pursuit of happiness is written into our DNA – the pursuit, but not necessarily the attainment.

I want to be happy.  I want my wife to be happy, and my children.  Why, I want everyone to be happy.  If only there were a formula we could follow, or an elixir we could drink, or . . . wait a minute . . . Every book store has a section of shelves filled with books that promise just such a formula for happiness.  Countless substances we ingest or drink, we do so in hopes of a buzz of happiness.  But if there was a formula or substance that worked, don’t you suppose we would have found it by now?

Might I suggest a different pursuit?  Instead of seeking after what makes you happy, which at most is a fleeting experience, why not pursue something else?  Like love.  Like service to others.  It is simple really.

As an experiment, spend a day seeking, not your own satisfaction, but the satisfaction of your spouse.  Spend a week affirming the work of your colleagues rather than tooting your own horn.  Spend a Saturday doing what your children want to do instead of hauling them around with your own agenda.  Instead of watching tired reruns at the end of the day, write some notecards of appreciation to your elderly relatives. 

All of these suggestions are not about the pursuit of happiness, at least not for yourself.  But don’t be surprised if you find something better as a result – joy.

The quote above by Miroslav Volf, suggests that happiness is superficial, but that joy is deep - built through the richness of experience.  Our circumstances can change in the blink of an eye, but if there is depth to our lives, relationships that have lasted through years and decades, then joy might be possible no matter what our circumstances.  I believe in living fully in the present moment, but this moment is enriched by my past experiences, particularly through the relationships I have had.  And the anticipation of those relationships continuing into the future are an additional blessing that can sustain and encourage joy, no matter what my outward circumstances might be.

Better than happiness, I wish you joy.  And joy comes from nurturing relationships that last through time.  This is nothing new.  There is no secret formula, nor elixir. 

Huey Lewis and The News sang, 

“I want a new drug . . . one that makes me feel like I feel when I’m with you.”  

You see?  Relationship.  That’s what matters, and that’s what leads to joy.

Relationships take work, I know, but as David Wilcox says, “It’s good work, if you can get it.”

The Cult of Personality

In the 1995 film, “To Die For,” Nicole Kidman’s character, Suzanne, says, “You aren’t really anybody in America if you aren’t on TV.” In an aside, another character quotes Suzanne with the following commentary:

Suzanne used to say that you're not really anybody in America unless you're on TV... 'cause what's the point of doing anything worthwhile if there's nobody watching? So when people are watching, it makes you a better person. So if everybody was on TV all the time, everybody would be better people. But, if everybody was on TV all the time, there wouldn't be anybody left to watch, and that's where I get confused.

Reality TV has intensified this notion that anyone can and perhaps even should be a celebrity as if the ambition of Suzanne to be seen is the pinnacle of human endeavor.  Rock group Living Color produced a song in 1988 called “Cult of Personality,” a biting critique of fame.  And while the message in the lyrics seems a bit muddled, the danger of idolatry is clearly noted.

Yet, without any sense of irony, our present culture seems to glory in idolatry – in the cult of personality.  But such idol worship makes a mockery of real life.  As Donna the Buffalo sings, “What does all this Hollywood really have to do with us?”

Reality TV has nothing to do with real life.  And if we seek to make real life anything like TV, then life becomes hypocritical, vacuous and superficial.  An actor I know recently told me that reality TV is just bad drama/comedy that has taken the place of good stories and acting.  And yet the American public either has an insatiable thirst for bad TV, or Hollywood is intent on making us into dumbed-down consumers of shallowness.

Real life is not a hunk of a guy having a harem of women clamoring for his attention.  Real life is not a competition to stay on an island.  In real life, the kitchen should not the setting for a competition.  In real life, we don’t consider the bad behavior of other people as a form of entertainment.

As a Christian, I cling to the promise of Jesus that he came that we may have life to the full (John 10:10).  There’s not much on TV or in Hollywood that hints at fullness of life.  I prefer the interactions of real people in real time - Taking a walk in a local park with my wife.  Playing guitar with my talented, musician children.  Preparing a meal and anticipating my guests’ pleasure.  Visiting the sick in an attempt to provide comfort and encouragement.  Providing shelter for those temporarily on the streets and having conversation with them as an acknowledgement of our common humanity.  Going to work each day and honoring the contributions of my fellow workers. 

Real life seems less spectacular than reality TV and the cult of personality.  But then, who ever said that a full life should be a spectacle?  Jesus, whose personality is certainly compelling, eschewed any sense of spectacle when he refused the Satan’s temptation to leap off the pinnacle of the temple in order to draw attention to himself.  His example is a counterpoint to the self-idolatry promoted in our present age.

I long for fullness of life for everyone.  Such fullness is not found in the range of the camera lens but in the day to day loving of one another.  May your life be so full.

I Make No Apology

            An apology is an act of contrition; to say “I’m sorry,” for a misspoken word or hurtful deed.  This essay is not an apology; it is an apologetic.

            Apologetics, in a formal sense, is a defense or argument by the accused – almost the opposite of an apology.  The word is derived from the Greek of the New Testament, apologia, as in Acts 26:2, when Paul makes his “defense” before Festus and Agrippa.  Over the course of time apologetics has come to mean a reasoned argument for the faith.

            When Paul makes the case for God in Athens, in Acts 17:22-31, he is perhaps making the first apologetic discourse, attempting to sway the Greek philosophers with reason.  Such defenses of Christian faith have continued throughout history by people such as Friedrich Schleiermacher in the 18^th-19^th century, or Lee Strobel more recently.

            There is a place for rational discourse in communicating about Christian faith.  But apologetics in its strict modern sense has certain obvious limitations.  Apologetics as the attempt to make faith reasonable is faced with what I think are insurmountable obstacles.

            For instance, what is reasonable about the death of Jesus on a cross as a means to salvation from sin?  What rational argument can anyone make for the resurrection?  The belief that there is a Creator who not only set the cosmos in motion but is also intimately engaged in the life of its creatures defies logical argument.  If apologetics is the attempt to remove all doubt and leave in its place rational certainty, then it will ultimately fail.  We cannot be certain, or else there is no need for faith.  Faith “is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1). 

            At some point, we who wish to make a defense of the gospel (the good news of Jesus Christ), must give up on reasoned argument and make the case for faith.  

• Though it is not rational to believe that there is a God in heaven who is powerful enough to have created the universe, and yet who is concerned when the least sparrow falls, we nevertheless have faith that this is so. 
• Though it is not rational to believe that the hope of the world is a 1^st Century itinerant Jewish rabbi who met a cruel death and was consequently resurrected, we nevertheless have faith that this is so.
• Though it is not rational to love our enemies, to turn the other cheek to those who strike us, and to forgive those who persecute us, we nevertheless believe that this is the way to live.

            In our defense of the gospel, we who are Christian must eventually become unreasonable and make our appeal to faith.  “By grace you have been saved, through faith . . .” (Ephesians 2:8).

            Back in Athens, Paul had limited success in convincing his listeners with reason.  Just a few seem to have responded.  The Bible never mentions Paul using such a rational discourse again.  “We are justified by faith . . .” (Romans 5:1), Paul writes. 

            The truth is that there is very little about Christian faith and practice that makes sense.  It is the weakness of the cross which is the power of God.  It is the revelation of Christ to the least of these in order to shame the wise.  It is the proclamation of good news to the poor, recovery of sight to the blind, and liberty to the oppressed.  It is the assertion that the meek will inherit the earth.  None of this is rational.  But I believe it to be true.  Without apology.

God Does Not Lie

I guess she took exception to my article last week.  She was respectful, but her message on my answering machine can be summed up in these words, “God does not lie.”  I take it that she thought I was suggesting otherwise.  She must have misunderstood me.  What I had actually written was that our understanding of the Bible is not made clear by authoritative pronouncements but by respectful dialogue.  In a local church that means a Wednesday evening Bible study is more enlightening the more people feel free to express their own interpretations.  And interpretation of scripture that takes place ecumenically is probably more wholesome and closer to the truth than any one denomination can claim on its own.  In other words, the church together arrives at Biblical truth much better than any one of us does alone.

Still, the Bible does speak to individuals.  It was through my own reading of the Bible that I became convinced of the uniqueness of Jesus Christ as the Son of God, the Word that became flesh.  Yet, I was helped along in my understanding of Jesus by other books I read, along with conversations with my father.  The Bible gained clarity as I listened to the opinions of others.

Opinions vary, for sure.  And there is no end to the varieties of Biblical interpretation on the World Wide Web.  Sometimes I grieve how much error there is floating around in cyberspace.  Of course, error is in the eye of the beholder.  By and large I agree with the Pope who is reported to have said that the internet is a gift from God.

While there are differences of opinion on how to interpret the Bible I am amazed at the amount of consensus there is regarding its basic message.  For all the extremes on either end of the interpretative spectrum most Christians agree on the essentials – God loves the creation enough to send us Jesus Christ to show us the way of salvation and continues abiding with us through God’s Spirit.  John 3:16 comes to mind.  I am also reminded of something my father said to me when my faith was in its infancy, “It’s not the parts of the Bible that I don’t understand that bother me; it’s the parts that I do understand.”

For all our difficulty in interpretation, the Bible is nevertheless clear enough for us to know when we are missing the mark (“Turn the other cheek.”).  And clear enough to give comfort to the troubled mind (“The Lord is my shepherd . . .”).

Fred Craddock is a famous preacher who taught preaching at the Candler School of Theology for many years.  He tells the story of coming into his office to discover his granddaughter with his Bible in her hands, holding it upside down and singing, “Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so.”

She may have had the Bible upside down.  But she had it right.

My caller last week was right.  God does not lie.

Is the Bible Clear?

            Byron was a Presbyterian, working on his Ph. D. in Old Testament, and it was from him that I first learned about the “perspicuity of scripture.”   Simply put, this notion is an argument for the clarity of the Bible, that anyone can pick it up and glean the scripture’s essential meaning.  This notion is illustrated by the anecdotal stories of persons who pick up Gideon Bibles in hotel rooms and who, upon reading, experience life-changing conversions.

But if the Bible is so clear, then why do we study it so endlessly; parsing sentences in Hebrew; doing word studies seeking the Aramaic phrasing behind the Greek; piecing together ancient manuscripts to infer the social or cultural context of the times in which they were written in the hopes of gaining greater insight into the meaning of each text.

If the Bible is so clear, why do churches send young preachers to seminary to sharpen their exegetical skills, or to graduate schools to write novel-length theses on a single word’s meaning?  Well did the writer of Ecclesiastes understand this phenomenon when he wrote, “of the making of many books there is no end (12:12).” 

John concludes his Gospel with these words:  “there are also many other things that Jesus did; if every one of them were written down, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written (21:25).”  There has been nothing else so thoroughly studied as the Bible, and while the world has contained all the books written so far, we are continually pushing those limits.

I am often suspicious when I hear someone begin a sentence with the phrase, “The Bible is clear . . . ,” because what often follows is a proposition stated as cold, hard truth, but about which there are undoubtedly various opinions.  The phrase, “the Bible is clear,” is often used as a way of cutting off any contrary, or dissenting opinion.  This tendency is captured in the well-worn argument that many of us have heard:  “God said it.  I believe it.  That settles it.”

Actually, that settles nothing.  When one closes off all discussion, or disallows any argument, then one has failed to grasp the very essence of the Bible as literature.  What we often fail to realize is that the Bible is often in a dialogue, or even an argument, with itself.  As a simple illustration:

Proverbs 26:4 ---“Answer not a fool according to his folly, lest thou also be like unto him.”  And this is followed immediately by a contrary opinion,

Proverbs 26:5 --- “Answer a fool according to his folly, lest he be wise in his own conceit.”

Perhaps the Bible is clear in its essence.  But the history of Biblical study has shown us that such clarity comes only through constant conversation and dialogue.  How much more we might learn if we precede our interpretations not with, “the Bible is clear,” but “this is what I hear God saying in this text; what do you hear?”