Oh you know…

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 | Also posted in Culture, Encouragement, Oh you know..., Struggling, Theology, WTF | Comments (3)

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 | Also posted in Encouragement, Oh you know..., Struggling | Comments (0)

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 | Also 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 | Also 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 | Also posted in Culture, Encouragement, Oh you know..., Struggling, The Classics, Theology | Comments (4)

Blessed Are The Cynical

Today I posted a status on Facebook lamenting how annoying it is that my spiritual life is a near-constant battle with cynicism.

If you read this blog, you know that I tend to be a cynic. I’m jaded. I’ve been there. I’ve done that. And on top of all of this I wallow in the fact that I wish I could get out of my personal hell of cynicism.

My brand of cynicism is strange though. It’s not skepticism. When I’m being cynical, its rarely rooted in belief. In fact, I like to think I’m pretty strong when it comes to having faith. It’s very hard, because I believe so much truth and I have no problem conveying said truth to others. I just lack immensely in true connection with God, especially worship and prayer. That’s one reason it’s been such a struggle for me. Today I was confronted with the true reason.

When I posted that status, it was more than anything a concession. It was me “giving up.” It was me deciding “if this is how it’s going to be, than I’m going to make the best of it.” I started to think about it, and it wasn’t sounding so bad. I had this idea—and I do think there is still something raw and beautiful about this that validates it to a point—that I can really reach other cynics, by not saying “I’ve been there” but saying “I’m in it.” I was conceding to the fact that this is just how things are and that I can invite God into it. It was at that very concession that God started working.

At dinner this evening, my wife and I were talking this subject came up. She proceeded to start talking to me in this beautifully graceful, yet forward way. She spoke some very deep truth that made me realize where the source of my cynicism is—selfishness. I realized that my lack of connection with God was rooted in wanting to keep a little bit of my heart and my mind to myself. In turn, I’m not disbelieving in true worship experiences, I just am not letting myself experience them.

In Matthew 5, Jesus starts the Beatitudes with “blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.” I grew up hearing this to be “blessed are the poor.” It sounds nice, Jesus starting his blessings with the poor first. I know that’s still part of it, but I heard a great teaching on this a few months ago that opened it up so much more. “Blessed are the poor in spirit” can be read closer to “blessed are those who are about to give up.”

Blessed are those who’ve had enough.

Blessed are those who have conceded to the fact that life is “just the way it is,” and in turn invited God into their misery.

Blessed are those who stopped challenging God—consciously or not.

I’ve been dealing with cynicism for at least 6 or 7 years now. And the moment I threw in the towel and just said “it’s yours now, God”—the moment I stopped trying to maintain control of every aspect of my heart and mind—was the very moment that God said “you finally gave me some room.”

Those who are truly, literally poor already get this. I think that’s why Jesus started with it.  The rest of us need to hear it and it’s importance.

This is the essence of Matthew 5:3. The very moment we relinquish our “wealth” of mind and spirit and become poor—the moment we give ourselves to being truly desperate—this is the very moment God says “YES! You get it now.”

By Collin | Also posted in Encouragement, Oh you know..., Struggling, Theology | Comments (1)

A Bad Case Of Mistaken Identity, Part 3

This is part three of a three-part series. I recommend reading parts one and two, if you haven’t already.

Relational and Incarnational

We are all image-bearers of the Most High God, and we are considered good. Our identity only lies in that. But how do we, as Christians, relay this message to each other? And more importantly, how do we relay it to the world around us?

We use a lot of Christianese that often doesn’t even make sense to Christians themselves (what does “hedge of protection” even mean, anyway?). We use nasty sounding words like rebuke and repentance. Sometimes even the word sin. I am in no way discounting the meaning or importance of words like this, I’m just stating the facts: certain words we throw around do carry a negative weight and sometimes do more harm than good. Where does this connotation come from?

I’m pretty sure it’s not from the words themselves.

It’s really easy to point fingers at “those Christians.” The ones that we think give us a bad name. The ones that use those nasty words with an emptiness behind them. If you’ve ever been the recipient of a badgering by a street preacher or tract-hander-outer (I have. That’s what I get for having tattoos, piercings and/or long hair), you’ll know what I’m talking about. The gospel they are preaching may or may not be true, but there’s an obvious lack of real love or discipleship behind the words. Their speech and actions come across much more as just another tally on the “got ‘em to heaven” sheet.

But what about us? What about us who aren’t those Christians. What about those of us who like to think we aren’t like that? I’d say most of us still are—in less overt ways.

Many times in my life, growing up in the church, I’ve seen these concepts used against people in the most mean-spirited ways. I’ve seen people point out the speck in their neighbors eye like the best of them, while ignoring their plank, and wearing a snarky smile on their face. Again and again, I’ve seen angry people tear other people to shreds, not in the name of their anger, but in the name of rebuke—out of “love.” These examples run rampant in our culture’s bastardized version of Christianity.

Where am I going with this? I’m not just bringing this up to state my nature as a bitter, jaded, been-a-Christian-my-whole-life a-hole. By God’s grace, I’m starting to leave that attitude behind. The reason I am talking about this is because I believe if we see ourselves and others through the eyes of the Creator—created in the image of Perfection—we would relate to each other in a completely different way.

The Way that looks a bit more like Jesus.

How would we correct each other? Would we speak to someone’s sin with an arrogant, sinless attitude? Would we continue to feed guilt? Or would we recognize the person’s identity as an image of God—rather than in their sin—and administer grace within our rebuke?

How would we relate to each other in general? Would we actually recognize our God-given emotions rather than burying them underneath Biblical concepts “because it’s how good Christian’s act?” We are emotional beings. Joy, fear, anger, sadness—these are all creations of God, and we are allowed to feel them. We don’t have to justify our emotions if they are felt in righteous ways. Even anger.

How would we evangelize? Would we stop giving away tickets to the first spaceship out of here, and instead actually operate in the Ministry of Reconciliation (II Corinthians 5:11-21) and reconcile our world to Christ here and now as well as after this life? Would we actually meet people’s needs instead of just chalking up another salvation that day?

Lastly, how would we see ourselves? Imagine what this world would be like if we all woke up in the morning, looked in the mirror, and saw the Image of God. Where would our self-esteem problems be? Where would our lack of confidence be?

Look at John 1:14:

“The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.”

And in Matthew 5:48, right in the middle of Jesus’ most famous teaching, the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus says:

“Be perfect, therefore, just as your Father is perfect.”

Listen to that. Let that soak in. That goes directly against what many of us have heard from the Church growing up.

God is inviting us to take part in His incarnation. He tells us we have what it takes to be perfect. He tells us that we have what it takes to be like Him.

I can’t get enough of that.

At your deepest level, your identity is in one thing and one thing only: you are created in the Image of the Most High God. God only sees you at your core as good. You are nothing less. God wants to teach you to love your neighbor as yourself with perfect love. And before that, God wants to teach you how to love yourself (no matter who you are, where you’ve been, or what you’ve done). God wants you to know that you’re worth it. God wants to use you to help return this world to what it looked like in the first two chapters of Genesis. God wants to use you to reconcile this world to Him. God wants to use you to help return yourself and this world to knowing these simple truths.

And God wants you to know that you have what it takes.

By Collin | Also posted in Culture, Encouragement, Oh you know..., Struggling, The Classics, Theology | Comments (2)

A Bad Case Of Mistaken Identity, Part 2

This is part two of three-part series. I recommend you read part one if you haven’t already.

As Christians, I don’t really think we have that much of a place to call ourselves sinners.

I know that’s a bold (and maybe somewhat arrogant) statement, and I could be wrong. In 1 Timothy 1, Paul refers to himself as a “chief of sinners.” This is the only verse in the Bible where I have found a believer calling themselves a sinner in the present tense. And ironically enough, in the surrounding context, he only uses past tense (in fact, he emphasizes it). Again, I could be wrong, so I’m not going to act like I have it all figured out.

But what I do know, is that when we start putting our identity in things other than God, we immediately enter some dangerous ground.

The basic definition of the word sin is “missing the mark”. If we constantly identify ourselves as “sinners,” we are repeatedly telling ourselves that we are OK with the fact that we are missing the mark all the time. Many of us have heard the simple metaphor here of an arrow and a target, but I liken it more to going to a shooting range with a hand gun. I load up the clip, and then I just go nuts, blasting away with one hand, alright with hitting the target sometimes, and being just as alright with missing it. It’s more for just the thrill of shooting than anything. Sure, it might be fun. Sure, I might hit the target a couple of times and feel good about myself. But in the end, I’m not any better off.

Paul talks about not using grace as a license to sin. Personally, I think this is what can happen if we identify with our sin. Is there grace for missing the mark? Sure. Do we, as humans, sin all of the time? Of course. But there’s a huge difference between doing and being. Here’s the basic idea:

Being: I sin. I am a sinner. God’s grace is sufficient. Shit happens, and it will happen again. Oh well.

Doing: I am created in the Image of God. But I do sin. And God’s grace is definitely sufficient. What steps can I take to “go and sin no more”, as Jesus often says?

Let’s go back to the shooting range idea (by the way, I know that some might find this kind of metaphor uncomfortable or distracting, but the bigger picture just seems to work). I see this as putting both hands on the gun, holding it the right way, meticulously standing the way that is best for aim, and if need be, letting the person more experienced put their arms around you to help guide your shot.

And of course, sometimes you’ll still miss the target.

Throughout his letters, Paul is always very clear about his issues with sin. He never acts like he has it all together. He is very open and honest about stuff he struggles with. But in Romans 7, Paul talks about how it’s the sinful nature in him that causes him to do what he hates—verse 20 sums it up specifically: “Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it.” He has a fundamental understanding that in Christ, he is “a new creation.”

The old has gone. The new has come. One of my favorite quotes from any theologian is this quote from Marcus Borg (emphasis added):

“The Way of Jesus is the way of death and resurrection. The transition and transformation from an old way of being to a new way of being.”

I love the repetition of the word “being” in that quote. The fact that he just knows who he is in Christ. But he’s also come to terms with the fact that it’s a transition as well as a transformation. That our humanity—the sinful nature Paul speaks of—will still rear its head and get in the way sometimes. And that’s just one thing that God’s perfect, beautiful, transforming grace is for.

There’s a difference between doing and being. There’s a difference between coming to terms with our sin and identifying with it. The more we identify with it, the more we tell ourselves that we are (you fill in the blank) and nothing more, the more we open our hearts to believing lies about ourselves that just aren’t true. The more we fill our hearts and minds with this idea that we are something other than the image of the Most High God, the sooner we lead ourselves to our own destruction (more on this in part 3).

If we are created in the image of God, and we are considered “good,” is identifying with anything other than that missing the mark? Put more simply, is truly identifying with our sin—and telling ourselves this over and over, as we often do—in itself sinning? I think so. Is God’s grace still sufficient? This is one thing I definitely still know.

On to part three »

By Collin | Also posted in Culture, Encouragement, Oh you know..., Struggling, Theology | Comments (2)

A Shift In Mindset

My mind has been shifting . And I think it’s for the better. No, probably for the best. I came across this quote yesterday, and it oh-so-perfectly sums up where I’ve been the last few months:

You can be straight as a gun barrel theologically and as empty as one spiritually. A.W. Tozer

Over the last year or so, I’ve stretched myself theologically on so many levels. I’ve called into question many things I’ve believed wholeheartedly my entire life. I’ve bent my beliefs to the point of nearly breaking them. But by the Grace of God, I am only more in love with Jesus and the Scriptures.

But that A.W. Tozer quote puts so succinctly what Paul was getting at in 1 Corinthians 13: that knowledge and understanding, by themselves, are completely meaningless.

Am I, or have I been, completely spiritually empty? No. Have I been close? Of course. There has been some shaking of my spiritual life and community in general that has factored into this spiritual emptiness—this disconnected feeling—and I have been working towards healing and making those situations right. But beyond that, its just been too heavy of a focus on learning ABOUT God, and less of a focus on abiding IN God. Spending time WITH Him.

Do I believe theology and doctrine are unimportant? Not by any means. But I do believe there needs to be a perfect balance, and God has been tipping my scales in the right direction.

In the last few weeks, God has been doing a work in me. He has rekindled the experiential side of my faith. He has given me a new passion for walking with Him. He has, in a way, made me a little bored with theology for the time being. He has been more clearly and loudly showing His presence as the third (well, first) member of my wife and I’s “marital trinity”. I’m feeling less and less inclined to argue a theological point that, in light of the bigger picture, is more than likely near-meaningless anyway. I’m feeling less and less cynical. I’m feeling emotional again.

Best of all, I’m rediscovering Jesus for WHO HE IS, not for who I think He is. And I’m falling in love with Him all over again.

By Collin | Also posted in Encouragement, Oh you know..., Struggling, Theology | Comments (2)

Well, Why Not Change It Then?

This post is a response to Israel’s last post. Read it here.

I totally understand what Israel said. To boil it down, generally, if you are a Christian who was raised in America, you have dealt with fear, guilt, homophobia, hatred of other religions and those not like you, etc. Many of us have discovered God’s wonderful, beautiful grace in the midst of this, and are “recovering fundamentalists” as Israel put it. This is a grace that is sufficient. This is a grace that knows that the Way of Love is the true way to live. The real Gospel.

And he proposes that we might be better off because of this. Our upbringing, our Christian culture, is what led us to this beautiful grace and mercy. We have been hungry for the true Gospel, and It’s been out of our reach, because of all the bullshit holding us back. I get that. And do I think that hunger is somewhat amplified by American religious Christianity? Sure. Are we better off because of being raised that way? This is where I disagree.

Maybe I’m thinking this way because I am a father. I have two beautiful boys. I would gladly take a bullet for each of them. There is nothing in me that wants to see them experience heartbreak or true, deep suffering. When I think about my Christian roots—first in the Reformed/Calivinist church, and then in the Baptist church, then in and out of non-denominational churches, capped off with a Pentecostal church—I think of all the times I felt guilty, not good enough, unable to measure up to some standard, and on top of that, seeing what was obvious hypocrisy in those teaching me how to be “a follower of Christ”. Was I hungry for grace, hope, and love after that? Oh yeah. But at the same time, I think there is a measure of deep heart-and-mind-suffering that I went through—and I don’t think I needed to.

Our hearts long for peace, hope, and love. We long for this beautiful gift of Grace. It’s what our hearts are MADE for. Why not just let that longing take charge? I really think that if we raised our children in grace, hope, and love—the true Way of Jesus—from the start, and didn’t instill this sense of religion, this owning up, this guilty, shameful existence, that longing would grab hold and exponentially grow. Imagine if you were raised from the get-go knowing who you ARE, who you ARE made to be, who you ARE made in the image of, rather than who you should be, or what you aren’t. We would have a lot more joy, I think. And a lot less sinning. And a much better public image as a faith movement.

I know there are still religious Christians. I would venture to say more than there aren’t. I know my sons will have to deal with it at some point. But it is my prayer and hope that they be raised with a true sense of what grace is. What love is. What hope is. What peace is. So that they can be a witness of the true Gospel to Christians and non-Christians alike. A witness to the abundant life that can only be found in the Way of walking in love.

And I’m sure going to  try.

By Collin | Also posted in Encouragement, Oh you know..., Theology | Comments (1)