The Fragility of Our Sexuality

About a month ago, I posted a link on Facebook to this blog post by John Shore (who’s become one of my favorite Christian bloggers, check him out). It’s a letter from a Christian woman who grew up with the normal American Christian view of premarital sex and abstinence and sexuality, who, once she got married, realized that her sexuality was completely screwed (pun intended). I posted the article because it resonated with me. I felt like it was kind of telling my story. I ended up getting in a small discussion about with with a friend—about how we weren’t completely satisfied with Mr. Shore’s conclusions, but were definitely not satisfied by the way we normally do things as Christians in this culture.

Here’s my story in a nutshell:

I grew up in the church. Went to a Christian school. Frequented youth groups.
I learned that God is against “premarital sex”.
I saved myself for marriage.
I expected married sexuality to be totally awesome and perfect, based on these previous facts.

Well, it’s been a challenge, as you can imagine.

Let me preface all of this by saying that I enjoy sex with my wife. A lot. And I also have no problems with someone keeping their virginity until marriage—in fact, I believe its preferable. I think that the idea that I am (as far as I’m concerned) going to have sex with one person for the rest of my life exciting and incredibly special.

I also should say I’m writing this from the perspective of a straight Christian man. Who lived through all of the Promise Keepers and purity movements and all of that stuff in the 90s, so I can’t really speak from any other perspective.

Back to my story. I mentioned that I learned that God is against “premarital sex.” That’s where the issue starts. For one, I think that the way the Bible is used to “prove” that sex outside the confines of marriage (which is a really shitty way of talking about marriage in my opinion) is not God’s desire for us is shaky at best, and two, I believe that what is really implied in our culture is that God is against all premarital sexuality.

Coming into marriage, my mind, body, and heart were all trained to believe that sexual anything was evil. And I’m not just talking about going around and having sex, or looking at pornography, or checking out every other girl’s hind-quarters. I’m talking about coming to terms with who I am sexually. Understanding what makes me tick. What attracts me. What “turns me on.” What I have to look forward  to, so I know who to look for. 

Newsflash: we are (incredibly) sexual beings. Our sexuality is a gift. Our sexuality is an amazing, beautiful creation of the Most High God.

Looking back on my time as a Christian youth, if I would have had people I looked up to telling me that the way seeing that beautiful girl makes me feel physically and emotionally was not only good but God-ordained, I believe my personal issues with lust and pornography addiction would have been much less pervasive in my life. I believe that if I went into my marriage bed not just telling myself that sex with my wife is special and beautiful, but actually knowing that it would be, because our sexuality was already special and beautiful, many of the sexual issues that still plague us five years in would be much less pervasive.

Instead, I went into marriage thinking that sex was a light switch that flipped between “evil” and “perfect.”

I think its funny that the most-used Christianese word when we talk about sexuality is “brokenness.” Because it’s true. Our sexuality is so fragile.

Our sexuality is not evil.
Our sexual orientation is not evil.
Our sexual desires are not evil.

It’s created by God. And it’s really fragile. We like to use all of these Bible verses to speak against sexuality in general, or same-sex relationships, or to keep oppressing our own sexual desires—all in the name of purity. But if we step back and look at the bigger picture, the various authors of the Scriptures are, in my opinion, not implying specific sexual acts, but revealing an overarching narrative that our sexuality is not something to just throw around. It’s fragile. It’s easily broken.

I believe we have a chance to really change how we Christians come across on the issue of sexuality. I believe we can shift from prude religious assholes to agents of sexual restoration.

God wants to redeem our sexuality. God wants to be an intimate part of how we view ourselves from a sexual perspective. I believe we need to teach our children to invite God into their sexuality from an early age—instead of instilling in them that God is sitting there watching them explore their sexuality, shaking his head and pointing his finger at that red door that says “HELL”.

I believe that we need to tell our children from the moment they understand our words that they are beautiful creations of a loving God, that they were created just they way they are, and that their identity is found in Christ and being His image—not in who they give their bodies to.

And I believe that we need to have honest conversations with our children along the way about sexuality instead of spewing the same trite cultural Christian answers at them. We need to discuss the fragility of our sexuality. It’s too easy (and wrong) to just say “Sex is bad. Don’t do it. Until you are married, of course.”

By Collin , on December 4, 2011 at 10:30 pm. Posted in Culture, Encouragement, Oh you know..., Struggling, Theology, WTF , Comments (3)

I’m still here.

I’ve been in a place of transition and haven’t had much to say. I’ll be back though.

By Collin , on October 31, 2011 at 11:38 am. Posted in Uncategorized , Comments (0)

The Gospel of Thankfulness

A psalm. For giving grateful praise.

Shout for joy to the LORD, all the earth.
Worship the LORD with gladness;
come before him with joyful songs.
Know that the LORD is God.

It is he who made us, and we are his;
we are his people, the sheep of his pasture.

Enter his gates with thanksgiving 
and his courts with praise; 
give thanks to him and praise his name.

For the LORD is good and his love endures forever;
his faithfulness continues through all generations.

Psalm 100 (emphasis mine)

If there’s any passage that I feel is totally played it’s that one. Especially verse 4. I would be curious how many church services include that verse on any given Sunday. In any given part of the world. As a Christian, it’s just one of those verses that’s IN me. As in totally ingrained.

Well, about a month ago, a couple of well placed words from those close to me, a couple of well placed words from God in song form, and one sermon spurred me towards trying what I’m calling my “prayer experiment.”

I haven’t asked God for anything in a month.

A month. Not one petition. Not one “God, would you just…” Not one “I ask for [blank] in Jesus’ name.” Not even one “would Your will be done.” (That last one is hard for a former/disgruntled Calvinist as myself.)

My prayers for the last month have only consisted of thanksgiving, praise, exaltation, and declaration. I just thank God for who he is. Thank God for things I have. Even thanking God for things I would normally complain about. I declare that God is good. I declare that he is sovereign. I declare that his will is perfect. I declare that he only desires what is best for us (not just the Christians).

The interesting thing about all this is that I feel more hopeful and happy and care-free as it pertains to many of the stressful parts of my life than I have in quite a while. What’s even more interesting is that my view of God is much more personal and more intimate than it has been in some time as well.

So, like I do, I started think of the theological implications of this. At first it just sounded like an interesting challenge. But as it ramped up and kept going (with no signs of stopping any time soon), I started realizing that theres a bigger picture here. A bigger point.

God was showing me something big.

I don’t think its any coincidence that the writer of the Psalm mentioned “his gates” and “his courts.” Picture a palace, and picture Christ in the throne room, on the throne. When you get to the palace, you’d go through the gates first. You aren’t in the presence of the King yet. Then you’ll enter the courts, which is the inner circle of the palace where people would congregate, but you aren’t in the throne room yet—you aren’t in His presence. I believe that the bigger picture of this Psalm is that thanksgiving and praise is a way of getting our hearts in the right place before entering God’s presence.

I believe wholeheartedly that God want’s us to ask for things. I believe he wants to give us the desires of our heart as our desires align with his will—what’s best for us.

I also believe that most of the time I’m asking God for something, I’m asking him with the expectation that he might not answer my prayer, so I just pray harder and more aggressively. From there, I might start feeling good about it, “I’ve got faith like a mustard seed! God’s definitely going to answer my prayer.” And then when it doesn’t happen—or doesn’t happen how I want it to happen—the blame goes squarely on God.

I was expecting him to do my will. Because I came at him with a heart focused on me.

In other words, I entered his gates with an idea for what I want to happen, and his courts with a plan of making him do it.

I believe that if we come right out of (er, into) the gates with declaring how good God is, declaring how thankful we are for what we already have  and what he’s already done for us, then we enter his throne room—his presence—with a heart that understands that God knows what he’s doing. That God is for us and not against us (Romans 8:31).

And not only are we preparing our hearts for his presence, we are also preparing our hearts for his answer. Let’s face it, God is confusing sometimes (most of the time). God’s will does not often line up with our will. At least in my case. And this is something that’s really hard for the human race. We like things to turn out like we want them to. This is one reason so many turn from God, because they don’t get why he doesn’t answer their prayers. (Chances are that he has, they just don’t recognize it because it wasn’t what they wanted to hear.) But when we recognize that God is good and that God is for us, we also are more prepared to hear what he has to say, even if it’s outside of our own will.

I’m not sure how long this experiment will last. I’m sure I’ll break and ask God for something sooner or later. But I have seen significant growth in the past four weeks through a simple, interesting challenge that I gave myself.

I encourage you to take the challenge. Even if it’s not a month or more like me. Even if it’s one prayer per day where you just stop asking and start thanking. Start declaring. Start worshipping.

Because it really is simple:

God is good.

God is for us.

And that’s the Gospel. 

By Collin , on July 26, 2011 at 4:45 pm. Posted in Culture, Encouragement, Struggling, Theology , Comments (2)

Vade Retro Satana

 

 

 

 

A little something that’s been brewing.

By Collin , on July 5, 2011 at 3:05 pm. Posted in Encouragement, The Classics, Theology, WTF , Comments (0)

What I Believe.

It’s no secret that I don’t necessarily fit the traditional American Christian mold. In the numerous debates, discussions, or arguments that I get into about faith, biblical interpretation, eschatology, etc, I often get asked “so what DO you believe?”

Well, here goes nothing:

I believe God is our eternal Father.

I believe God is the great artist and all creation comes from him and only him.

I believe God came incarnate as Jesus Christ, his only son.

I believe God walked the earth in grace and truth.

I believe God was crucified.

I believe God suffered under God’s own judgement for three days.

I believe God did this so we won’t have to.

I believe God resurrected.

 

I.

Believe.

God.

Resurrected.


I believe God is alive.

I believe he speaks to us and operates in and through us through his Holy Spirit.

I believe that through his Holy Spirit we have an advocate. That we have comfort and peace. And that we have power to see God’s Kingdom enter this world and bring abundant life.

I believe God will return to us and will judge the world with his perfect grace, mercy and love. (I also believe God’s judgement may look quite a bit different than our judgement.)

I believe that a new heaven is just waiting to explode in the midst of this world, creating a new earth in perfect harmony with the Kingdom of Heaven.

I believe that the Bible is the inspired Word of God. I also believe that this is different than it being the literal, inerrant words of God (which I do not believe).

I believe that through the ages we’ve gotten a lot of things wrong. That a lot of people have been hurt, oppressed, killed, driven to atheism—by a dysfunctional family that’s still trying to figure it all out.

I believe there are a lot of things we’ve focused on that God wants to, in his perfect grace, shift our hearts and minds away from and toward issues that really matter.

I believe there is a place for everyone in the Kingdom. Everyone.

Every. One.

I believe there are new things and new ways of living that God is slowly revealing through his Spirit. We just need to listen (and be willing to let our old understanding fall by the wayside).

I believe in faith, hope, and love. The greatest of these being love.

 

These are the things that I know to be true.

 

By Collin , on June 30, 2011 at 8:47 am. Posted in Encouragement, The Classics, Theology, WTF , Comments (0)

Great Is Thy Faith(less)ness

It’s been a long, hard road to get here, but it looks like we are in the last stages of selling our house.

Anyone I’m friends with on Facebook or follows me on Twitter is probably annoyed and glad that all of our thoughts-and-prayers solicitation—not to mention our constant grumbling and complaining—about the whole process is seemingly over.

Sorry about that.

I imagined us signing the contract would be this special thing. I imagined it would be like a movie: young, married couple signs it together, huge smiles on their faces, then hugs and kisses and “happily ever after” and all that.

Well, it wasn’t.

We got a call that our buyer wasn’t budging on their offer. An offer that was annoyingly lower than the lowest we were wanting to go. We swallowed our pride, sighed, and signed the contract.

A year and a half. Painting. Landscaping. Building. More painting. More landscaping. Cleaning. Cleaning. Cleaning. You’d think I’d be ecstatic that the whole process is almost over. Nope. It was met with total disappointment and ungratefulness. In fact, it took me at least 24 hours to feel any sense of excitement or peace at all.

And of course there is a lesson in all of this. God is humbling me. And it really sucks. But before I (over)spiritualize anything, the most obvious fact is that this is a lesson in the reality of the housing market. I have to remember that some people are having to pay out of pocket to get out of their houses right now. I have to remember that we are considered lucky to be walking away with a profit, let alone in the positive.

But beyond that, God is teaching me a lesson in humility. God’s grace IS sufficient, but he “resists the proud” (James 4:6). What was I wanting out of all this? A few more dollars? Was I wanting to be some 2011-housing-market-anomaly success story? Was I afraid that my neighbors would hate me for potentially bringing down the market value of our block?

I just have to trust Him.

I have to remember that He will always meet my needs.

I have to be grateful for what I have, and what I’m given.

I have to remember that His grace is still sufficient for my grumbling and bitching.

I have to remember the words of that beautiful old hymn: “Great is Thy faithfulness, great is Thy faithfulness! Morning by morning, new mercies I see. All I have needed, Thy hand hath provided—Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!”

I really hate old English, by the way.

 

By Collin , on May 23, 2011 at 10:05 am. Posted in Encouragement, Oh you know..., Struggling , Comments (0)

Crucifying Disunity, Resurrecting Hope

“…I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you.”

—Jesus, on the night of his death.

As a Christian, this is my favorite time of year. Not because Easter is our highest holy day. Not because I can go evangelize people, proclaiming the real Easter story. Not because I love candy so much (I do).

This is the one week of the year where we Christians can agree on something. Something that matters.

The only thing that matters.

This week is the climax of the Christian narrative. The thing that makes the whole plot make sense. The twist in the story. As liberal as I get, as intellectual as I get, this concept still blows my mind in a childlike-wonder kind of way.

God, incarnate.

God, letting himself go for the sake of His creation.

God, alive.

Death, defied.

A beautiful reminder that suffering and injustice don’t survive when it’s all said and done.

We get so caught up in this argument or that doctrine or this dogma or that statement of faith—we get so distracted. This week shows us where we are missing the point. (News flash: we all are much of the time.)

This week shows us what unity looks like—laying our hearts, minds, and lives down for each other, and asking for nothing in return other than faith, hope, and love.

It doesn’t matter what kind of Christian you are. It doesn’t matter if you’re universalist, fundamentalist, conservative, liberal, emergent, post-modern, post-conservative, gay-affirming, legalistic, liturgical, organic, evolutionist, young-Earth creationist, Calvinist, Baptist, Lutheran, Methodist, Presbyterian, Pentecostal, or non-denominational (amongst a million other classifications)—we’re Christians, our center is Christ.

Christ incarnate.

Christ crucified.

Christ resurrected.

Proverbs 28:19 says: “Where there is no vision, the people perish.” Let’s remember that. Let’s remember our vision.

Christ incarnate.

Christ crucified.

Christ resurrected.

Our vision is Christ.

 

By Collin , on April 19, 2011 at 4:21 pm. Posted in Encouragement, The Classics, Theology , Comments (3)

Thinking Bigger

I’m on vacation.

I am writing this with my feet up, sitting on the porch of a chalet overlooking the Smoky Mountains. (Which, by the way, is how I envision all bloggers.)

As I sit here with this glorious view, I could write about how great our Creator is, or how I don’t understand how anyone could see this view and not be a believer. But today, God’s been giving me a different perspective. 

A bigger one.

This past month has been reinvigorating to my theological mind. I’d been riding high on the experience-based-faith wagon, and really seeking to experience the Spirit of God in my heart and mind, and not just how much I know about Him. This has been great. But with all the universalism/afterlife stuff and my own personal struggles with Scriptural authority and inerrancy (I’ll be blogging about this at a later point), my head has been churning pretty hard lately. This has also been great, but emotionally and mentally taxing.

I was standing out on this porch this morning, looking at these beautiful mountains and just admiring their beauty, when I started to feel a sense of scale.

I am so small. 

I am reminded in an incredibly tangible way, that there is a much bigger picture going on. This stuff I’ve been struggling with—trying to decide between nuanced versions of the Gospel, wondering who-wrote-what in the Bible, trying to figure out who was inspired and who wasn’t, etc.—all of these things pale in comparison to the bigger picture, the bigger story, the bigger narrative. You know, the Gospel. 

All of these discussions, debates, arguments, discourses—a speck.
All of these doctrines, belief statements, dogmas—a grain of sand.?All of this rhetoric—nothing. 

Could this be what the writer of Ecclesiastes was speaking about? Could this be what Paul was implying when he said that “everything is permissible, but not everything is beneficial”? 

Belief systems are important. Doctrines can be good. Statements of faith are needed in many communities. But we have to make sure that we aren’t making these smaller stories into the bigger story. This overarching story—the Good News—is so big, so universal, and so much more important than this stuff. 

God is calling me to think bigger. 

Actually, I think he’s calling all of us to think bigger. 

By Collin , on April 8, 2011 at 3:46 pm. Posted in Encouragement, Oh you know..., Struggling, Theology , Comments (0)

An Open Letter To Everyone (Including Me)

Update: I disabled comments on this post. I feel the message is strong and needs to be said, and for the sake of the message, I want to keep arguing and discourse off of this one. If you really want to discuss it, please email me.

Ten years ago, I reached a point in my Christian life where I made a conscious decision to not call myself a Christian anymore. It wasn’t a crisis of faith, in fact my faith was never shaken, only stronger. It was a crisis of faith in my fellow Christians. I had exhausted my patience for judgementalism and fundamentalism. I was sick of Christians preaching love and grace and not showing love and grace whatsoever. By the grace of God I decided to keep my “title” and instead try and “reclaim the name” for the true Gospel of Christ.

Fast forward 10 years. Last night I had a Christian meltdown. All of this Rob Bell/universalism/Calvinism/Heaven-and-Hell talk has taken it’s toll on me. Last night I was more embarrassed to be a Christian that I have been in these past 10 years.

After some careful consideration, discussion, and prayer from my wife and two of my best friends, I’ve decided to write this letter. Like any good Christian, I’ve split my friends into two groups (sarcasm) and I have split this letter into two parts.

First, to my non-Christian friends:

I’m sorry. I can’t say this enough. Speaking on behalf of my incredibly dysfunctional family, Christians, I’m sorry that we’ve come across as the same self-righteous, I’m-right-you’re-wrong, jumping-to-conclusions, ignorant assholes that we always have. If you have Christian friends, I’m sure you’ve read some tweets, some Facebook discussions, or have even seen a news article on your favorite mainstream news website about how “evangelicals have called one of their own a heretic.”

“One of their own.”

It’s a shame, really.

I want to tell you that the true Gospel of Christ is so much bigger and so much better than these petty arguments that are going on right now in the Christian world. These debates don’t really matter in the long run. So please, try and look past the rhetorical argument (screaming match) going on right now and look at the living, breathing Christ standing behind it, because he sure as hell isn’t in it.

Matthew 7:16 says “by their fruit you will recognize them. Do people pick grapes from thornbushes, and figs from thistles?” And Galatians 5:22-23 says “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” So as you look out across the Christian landscape, if you are going to judge us by anything—let it be that.

And I can’t stress enough that you try your hardest to not judge the God of the Bible by the way His followers are acting. Christ is alive and incarnate among us in Grace and Truth.

(And a side note, the earthquake/tsunami in Japan wasn’t Him either.)

Now, to my Christian friends:

We are not doing anything good for the Kingdom of God. Nothing. Our current arguments are nothing but rhetoric and in no way represent the living Christ.

Whatever “team” you are on in this current landscape, chances are that you are just “defending the true gospel.” The Gospel does not need to be defended. If we are walking in Grace and Truth like Jesus did, the true Gospel will speak louder than we ever could.

We must remember that we are one body with many parts. Our head is Christ. The body can’t survive if it cuts one of it’s own organs out. Well, it might survive, but it will walk with a limp at least.

If you are a Bell supporter, stop defending him. He’s a big boy and can take criticism. Defend nothing but the Gospel of Christ. His death and resurrection.

If you are a Bell detractor, please look at the fruit of his work before you start saying things like “false teacher,” “itching ears,” and “heretic.” Because if someone is leading folks toward the living Christ—that’s not false teaching. The false teachers the Scripture talks about would draw people away from Christ, not toward.

Regardless if you agree with Rob Bell or not (this is not about him by the way, this would be the same if any one else—Rick Warren, John Piper, John MacArthur, I don’t know—brought this conversation to light), he is doing work for the Kingdom of God. Matthew Paul Turner said on his blog yesterday that the fact of the matter is because of Bell’s message, many who probably closed the door on God a long time ago have a reason to reopen it. Let’s not give them a reason to slam it shut again. The Holy Spirit is the one who convicts, not us. If Bell’s teaching is off, the Holy Spirit of God will convict accordingly.

In John 13 Jesus, speaking to his followers, says that we will be known to the world by our love for one another. We must keep this at the top of our minds as we engage in public discourse. We are looking to the world right now less like two brothers who can’t get along, and more like two brothers who have decided to divorce themselves from their family.

If you believe the Bible is composed of the inerrant, literal words of God, that’s fine. I don’t. Which is also fine. I believe the Bible is authoritative, inspired by God, breathed by the Holy Spirit. I believe it’s the living, breathing Word of God. Literalist or not, we can both agree with that. The Word is Alive. Let’s let it be that and agree to disagree. If the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus is at the center of our teaching, preaching, and conversation, everything else is just theology.

One more thing, Christians:

The fruit of the Spirit is

love,

joy,

peace,

patience,

kindness,

goodness,

faithfulness,

gentleness,

and self control.

Matthew 7:16 says “by their fruit you will recognize them. Do people pick grapes from thornbushes, and figs from thistles?”

Correct answer: they don’t.

By Collin , on March 16, 2011 at 9:33 am. Posted in Culture, Encouragement, Oh you know..., Struggling, The Classics, Theology, WTF , Comments (1)

You Can Go To Hell

If you are a Christian, and you are on Twitter or Facebook, I’m sure you’ve come across someone going nuts about the advertisement for Rob Bell’s new book, Love Wins. He might be flirting with Christian Universalism in it. Or he might be just doing what he does—raising questions for you to think about and not actually answering them (this is more likely in my opinion). Regardless, I’m not really going to comment on it, because its a book synopsis that people are arguing about, which is written by the publishing company for the sole purpose of selling the book. But all of this defense of Hell has gotten me thinking quite about our nature as humans and what we really think about Hell, God, love, and justice—and I think we’ve swung the sovereignty scale a bit too far in our direction.

Before I say anything, I’ll start by saying that I am not a universalist. I really wish I was one, but I just can’t find the evidence in scripture. I actually subscribe to Annihilationist theology. Not only does it have the most brutal name, I personally believe it holds the closest to how I view God’s love, justice, and mercy. That being said, I believe some sort of hell exists, and that it’s true separation from God.

I’ve noticed something in the blog posts, Facebook comment threads, and Tweets getting thrown around all weekend though. It seems to me that all of the judgement, hate, and criticism getting thrown Bell’s way isn’t rooted in some higher view of God, but really rooted in a very saddening defense of damnation.

I’m really not concerned with the fact of belief in Hell or not. Or believe in universal reconciliation as opposed to eternal conscious torment. Because none of these things should change our view on how we look at the person of Jesus, and the death and resurrection of Jesus the Christ. Because Universalists and Calvinists and any other Christians can all agree that Jesus’ blood is the only thing that atones for our sin as humans. And this is where our focus should be.

In Matthew 22: 36-40, Jesus puts it as frankly as possible:

“Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”

Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

Jesus focuses on one thing: Love. Although Jesus speaks very seriously elsewhere about the reality of separation from God and really believing in Him, when asked what is the greatest commandment—which in my opinion could be read as “where our focus should be”—he doesn’t say anything about judgement, condemnation or hell here. He is telling us to focus on love. Walk in love for God and love for humanity, and everything else will fall into place naturally.

The problem I’m seeing with all of these Hell debates is that the idea of condemnation and suffering is being defended with an almost excited zeal. I know that’s kind of an intense statement, but I really believe it’s true. I believe what we humans have turned the theology of hell into is an outlet for our own judgements and ideas of what justice looks like. Jay Bakker asked in a sermon once if we are “eager for the damnation of others.” Again, a brutal statement, but it holds a lot of truth. We are much quicker to point out why a certain attitude, sin, lifestyle, sexual orientation—you get the point—puts someone in danger of the fires of hell than to actually tell them how much God really loves them and wants to meet them in whatever place they happen to be in. We are too quick to whip out all of the scriptures that talk about (how we view) hell, and not nearly as quick to bust out the more important scriptures about love, grace, mercy, and acceptance.

I think that this idea really manifests itself in a tired old phrase: “go to Hell.” We’ve seen it in movies. We’ve read it in books. I’m sure we’ve all used it at some point. But I think it perfectly illustrates how we have re-imagined God in our own image. I know it sounds like I’m making a big deal out of a little statement, but I think it just describes the bigger picture so well. Telling someone to go to hell puts us on this “godlike” pedestal where we can make ourselves feel better by telling someone off in a way that describes the worst possible punishment we could receive. And at the same time, subconsciously, we paint a picture of a god who points and zaps people to eternal damnation because he happens to be unhappy with their actions that day.

In the bigger picture, the obvious problem with this mindset about God’s “love” and “justice” is that we leave out God’s grace and mercy, and are left with the same image of God that much of the world hates us for in the first place. This immature God playing chess up in heaven and being completely happy with the decision to sentence someone to eternal suffering. When in reality, if hell and eternal separation from God exists, I believe that it is a much sadder, heart-breaking decision for the Most High God.

In Jesus’ great commission, he tells us to go and make disciples of all nations. He doesn’t tell us to go and argue for or against the existence of hell and why or why not people should go there. He doesn’t tell us to call out other Christians who might not believe the same as we do on stuff that doesn’t really matter in the long run. He commands us to go out and love and train up the generations to continue to love. It’s not our job to make the judgement call about who is going where. And it’s not up to us to trash other theologies that are still completely rooted in loving and following Jesus, even if we cover up our hate speech with out of context scripture defending judgement of other believers.

God is the sovereign one. It is up to God who gets their names written in the book of life (and although I’m not a universalist, I can still hope and pray that it’s everyone, right?). And as for us humans walking out the great commission, there is no room for condemnation in the love we show the world.

 

By Collin , on February 28, 2011 at 2:05 pm. Posted in Culture, Encouragement, Oh you know..., Struggling, The Classics, Theology , Comments (4)