Theology

Pastors, Mystics, and My Atheist Friends

I’m 20 years into calling myself a Christian, and sometimes I’m not sure why I’m still here.

I grew up in an interesting time. With some interesting friends. I went to Cornerstone festival every year for 6 or 7 years. I used to wander the grounds—the merch tents, the drum circles, the disgusting lake, the campsite crustpunk shows—and dream. Many of us had the same dream:

“How awesome would it be to live outside the grid of American religiosity? Just us and God. All on the same level. Not being bastardized by Western Christianity. Not following the rules of man-made religion.” It sounded awesome then, and it still sounds awesome now. The shame is, much of the time that attitude just doesn’t work.

Most of my friends that dreamt that same dream with me became one of three things: an agnostic, an atheist, or a slightly more liberal/hip version of good ol’ Churchianity (I’m not going to focus on this one). But why? Why have so many of my friends given up on the faith? Why have so many of them turned their backs on their “first love?”

I chalk it up to a lack of balance that leads to a subconscious rejection of the moving of the Holy Spirit.

Much of the attitude behind the fringe-Christian’s dream stated above starts in a rejection of leadership. “Whoa! Stop right there,” you say, “who do you think you are? A megachurch pastor?” No. I’m not. I believe the rejection of the form of church leadership so prevalent in our country deserves to be rejected.

Too many churches have turned the idea true, biblical servant leadership on it’s head. Leadership has been turned into an authoritarian power-grab based on a cultural (and wrong) definition of what it means to submit. This theology should be rejected. The real shame though is that in our Christian culture, this dangerous form of leadership tends to be (also wrongly) synonymous with discipleship. So when being discipled gets defined as being “led,” which actually means “being told how to live my life,” discipleship gets thrown out the window as well. This attitude of rejection that’s being repeated and becomes a lifestyle, it festers, it corrupts, and turns from something that may have originally been a beautiful, fresh idea into a haven for negativity and rebellion.

And I believe (warning: bold statement ahead), that this lifestyle of rejection trickles up the ladder all the way to the Father. It plagues our minds to the point that even true, real, loving discipleship from the Holy Spirit becomes a casualty to the rejection of authority.  The voice of God becomes a whisper, then silence.

Oh, how quickly can “my Kingdom is not of this world” turn into “no gods, no masters.”

Paul was definitely right in Romans 8:7 when he said “The mind governed by the flesh is hostile to God; it does not submit to God’s law, nor can it do so.” It’s such a simple concept. A mind shut off to the work of the Spirit of God physically can’t give itself to anything but itself.

But I don’t blame my atheist or agnostic friends. At least not completely. Like I said, I’m often surprised I’m not right there with them. And I am by no means picking on my punk/hippie/anarchist/liberal/intellectual friends. I only used that as an example because this is the story that I’ve experienced first-hand.

The bigger issue is just that our culturally-formed Christianity has lost its balance. By its own obsession with self it has unknowingly driven out those who wanted to embrace it in its purest form. But when the Spirit of God is taken out, Christian spirituality can’t stand on theology and religiosity for long.

If I based my spirituality on my theological questions alone, I would have become an atheist a long time ago. We need a little mysticism in our lives.

There are a lot of theologies/interpretations of things in the Bible that I know I don’t believe. There’s even more that I’m not sure if I believe. But belief alone isn’t the whole picture. Experiencing the supernatural is the other side of the same coin. And in my opinion, it holds even more weight.

James 2:20 says that “faith without works is dead.” Our faith, our salvation, is meant to be an ongoing, interactive process with God. I’m sure in this verse “works” just means the fruit of being a Christ-follower. But I believe the Word is truly alive, and looking at it from a bigger perspective, couldn’t “works” mean wrestling with belief through prayer and petition? Could it mean lamenting? Or praising? Or could it also mean the work of the Holy Spirit in us?

I believe it’s all of these things.

Sure, belief is great. But faith alone can quickly turn to the self. It can turn into a crutch to make ourselves feel better. It’s nice to believe in something. (I can’t take credit for those last two sentences, I’ve been reading and listening to a lot of Peter Rollins lately.) But really feeling or hearing the touch or the voice of the Spirit of God? I believe this is God’s true desire for us. To feel His power. Getting in touch with the mystical side of our minds adds the most real, beautiful balance we can dream of. Not to mention how seeing or experiencing the work of the Spirit through healing or the speaking of wisdom with a truly open heart actually strengthens our belief.

I’ve got my questions. And for many of them, I definitely don’t have answers. But in Paul’s words:

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13

That’s what keeps me around.

By Collin | Also posted in Culture, Encouragement, The Classics | Comments (5)

Bless This Mess

Today is my last day at work before a four-day weekend. Later today my family will be arriving in town. Tomorrow is Christmas eve. On the edge of diving head first into chaos for the next few days, I was trying to take a little time to reflect on the Christmas Story in the quiet of the car ride to work this morning.

In our culture, the Nativity has become two things. The first being a legend. Christian or not, we grow up hearing the “true meaning of Christmas” to be this story of a manger, a drummer boy, stars, and wise men. It does make for a good story, and regardless of what you believe, it tends to be this nice heartwarming tale of the season. (In actuality the story is not that cutesy.) The second thing the story has become is political fodder. The War on Christmas. The “you better believe it’s my Constitutional right to put my Nativity scene out in front of my business” war on Christmas.

So we have two things—a good story and something to argue about. That’s the “true meaning” of Christmas?

I’m starting to recognize the story of Christmas to be a really tangible view into the character of God—a God that’s not afraid to get His hands dirty.

I have always held to the traditional theological understanding of the virgin birth. Sin is passed through the male, death through Adam, so if Jesus was going to be completely sinless, that was the only way it was humanly possible. I’m not sure I totally buy that now, but I’m not trying to say I have all the answers, and I sure haven’t studied that one, so I’m going to leave it at that. But what I am finding about the virgin birth to be so beautiful is the fact that God was so sure about it. Here’s the conversation between Mary and Gabriel in Luke 1:34-37:

Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?”

The angel answered and said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; and for that reason the holy Child shall be called the Son of God. And behold, even your relative Elizabeth has also conceived a son in her old age; and she who was called barren is now in her sixth month. For nothing will be impossible with God.”

It’s easy to read Mary’s question as a simple “well…explain to me how this is going to work, God.” But I can’t help but think it’s more than that. In her culture, a “virgin” getting pregnant makes no sense. People would think she was lying. People would probably start to gossip about her throughout the community. And in Matthew 1, we see a very confused Mosaic law-abiding Joseph who wanted to divorce Mary (although he loved her enough to want to do it “quietly”).

I believe God is a big god. I believe that he could come Incarnate to earth riding in on fiery clouds with lightning and thunder on a half-unicorn-half-siberian-tiger. With his angels by his side riding dinosaurs. But he didn’t. He chose to become one of us, through very messy means. He wasn’t afraid of the implications of this decision. Because He came in His infinite power. The Amplified version of the Bible translates Luke 1:37 a little better in my opinion:

God came to us in a messy way. But he came knowing that those He chose could handle it. He came as a baby. In a poor Jewish community. In a way that confused everyone involved. But along the way He only affirmed, assured, and gave Grace and favor to those whom “He called according to His purpose.”

We often use the name Emmanuel this time of year, but I feel like more often than not we use it interchangeably with the name Jesus. They are both names for Him, but they mean different things. Emmanuel means “God with us.” Not ahead of us. Not behind us. Not above us or below us. (He is all of these things.) But with us. He decided to come among us not to clean up our mess. But to be with us in the midst of it. To walk us through it in only ways that the Most High God knows we need.

That is good news of great joy.

By Collin | Also posted in Culture, Encouragement, The Classics | Comments (0)

The Great Convergence

If I say the word “emergent,” “emergence,” or “emerging” and then connect that with the word Christian, I know for a fact that I will hear one of two responses. The first being something along the lines of: “they have some awesome ideas and are making Christianty more relevant and are actually thinking about things.” The second being: “those heretics! They are just making excuses for things they don’t want to deal with in the Scriptures. Agnostics in Christian clothing”

Now, I am not involved in the Emergent church formal. I honestly don’t know that much about them as an “organization” or “movement.” I would say being involved in the Vineyard movement, I know a thing or two about “emerging” types of Christianity, because although some would contest it, I would say that the Vineyard movement is a more left-of-center movement as a whole (although very close to center). All that to say, I am not going to act like I am all-knowing when it comes to the E-word.

But what I do know is that we are getting to a place in our Christian culture where new ideas and old ideas are having a harder and harder time living together. Where post-modern Christians, or millenials, or whatever are having an increasingly hard time making nice with people like, say, my old-school Baptist Grandma. I know I’ve talked about this before. I actually talk about it a lot. This type of division makes my heart hurt. And I know that much of the time, I am waist deep in it.

Phyllis Tickle calls what our Christian culture is going through “The Great Emergence.” She talks about how this sort of reforming change happens every 500 years or so, the last being the Great Reformation. And I don’t doubt her. Because historically, it does line up. And I do believe we are going through a culture shift in Christendom. And I know when she says “emergence”, she isn’t speaking of Emergent. So I also have no issues with that title. But one thing I’m noticing more and more is this hostility between the different Christian camps. Liberal Christians like me—scratch that—even moderate Christians, or anyone who is “anti-Religious” will look at the more religious Christians or fundamentalists or legalists and be like “YOU PHARISEES! YOU ACT LIKE YOU HAVE ALL THE ANSWERS (actually, I do). YOU ARE DOING MORE HARM THAN GOOD (am I any doing any better by calling you out in judgement?). YOU ARE MAKING US ALL LOOK LIKE JUDGMENTAL A-HOLES (oh, wait…)!”

People on my side of the fence act this way all the time. I know I do. And what is it other than the same judgmental, elitist, with-us-or-against-us attitude with a different face on it.

The Scripture is very clear on this subject. Just a couple verses as an example:

“If you bite and devour each other, watch out or you will be destroyed by each other.” Galatians 5:15

“There is one body and one Spirit, just as also you were called in one hope of your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all who is over all and through all and in all.” Ephesians 4:4-6

“…Holy Father, protect them by the power of your name, the name you gave me, so that they may be one as we are one.” John 17:11 (this one is Jesus himself talking)

I believe that God is sovereign. I believe that Jesus is on the throne and our great Unifier (Colossians 1:17-18). And I’m in no way saying that we shouldn’t hold each other accountable and correct each other as needed in love. By no means am I saying we should just give each other passes on everything for the sake of “playing nice.” I’m just saying before ANYTHING we need to put Jesus first. And focus on that as what unifies us. For instance:

Is Christian A a free-market capitalist? Is he in love with Jesus? Start there.
Is Christian B a Christian anarchist? Is she in love with Jesus? Start there.
Is Christian C a universalist? Is he in love with Jesus? Start there.
Is Christian D a Calvinist who believes the spiritual gifts have ceased? Is he in love with Jesus? Start there.
Does Christian E believe in a literal 6-day creation? Is she in love with Jesus? Start there.
Is Christian F a pre-trib Baptist waiting on the rapture at any given second? Is he in love with Jesus? Start there.
Is Christian G in favor of gay marriage? Is she in love with Jesus? Start there.
Even farther, does Christian H believe homosexuality is not a sin? Is he in love with Jesus? Start there.

You get the point.

What I’m getting at is that I think “The Great Emergence” should be called “The Great Convergence.” Some of those questions above are very bold, and some are even more polarizing. That was the point. I’m not sure polarization was what Jesus had in mind when he prayed that we might be one. I would like to see us move into a brand of Christianity that embraces each other’s love for Jesus and His Way of abundant life BEFORE debating the issues. Before hashing out our differences. Because then we might actually learn from each other, or learn more about ourselves instead of just casting unrighteous judgment. I’d like to see a Christianity emerge that we could describe as coming together. Something like “Convergence Christianity.”

By Collin | Also posted in Culture, Encouragement, Struggling | Comments (0)

The Human God


I’ve been listening to a sermon series at our church about how big God is. Looking at His creation, physical descriptions of Him in scripture based on the author’s visions of His glory, and His overall over-the-top-ness really.

It’s definitely interesting, and definitely something I’ve thought about before, but more than that it’s just got me thinking. I was reminded of the above quote from Einstein, for instance.

Now, I don’t agree with that quote fully. The first half of it that is. I do think there are blessings and corrections from God (personally, I think “reward” and “punishment” are very polarizing words that in our culture are quite counterproductive—or maybe I’m just being too PC), some of which are very humanly understandable, and some of which fall in the “divine mystery” category. But I think good ol’ Al is up to something with that last kicker—we make God into this humanlike being that is just as frail as us.

Just as emotional. Just as easily-swayed. Just as unrighteously angry. Just as judgmental.

I know there are plenty of good quotes from pastors and theologians and other witty people talking about how we’ve made God in OUR image, but I don’t feel like trying to track them down, and chances are you’ve already heard them. The point is that we have. We’ve turned God into this person who can get pissed off in a moment’s notice. Or hate all of the same people we hate. Or justify the things we don’t think are in God’s nature but still are in scripture. We have turned God into a being that acts solely on emotion rather than sovereignty and omni-everything.

But what about all the good theology about God’s nature, especially in the Old Testament? You know, where He is more relational and personal—more humanlike— than all the other ancient deities?

More importantly, what about Jesus? Fully God and fully man? I’m not questioning any of that. I just think we have it backwards.

I would argue that a personal, relational nature is a divine quality, not a human one. If you look at the Creation narrative, you see a beautiful story of a God who is in complete communion with His creation. It only makes sense that God would continue to be that kind of a God throughout the Bible. And maybe His Incarnation was His way of saying “look, I understand you. I empathize with you. But I know what true, perfect humanity looks like—I created it. Let me show you the Way.”

Jesus shows us that our human nature isn’t, at it’s core, anything but a perfect image of the Most High God. That when we operate in His image, our emotions are a beautiful gift that we are allowed to act in. That we don’t need to judge anyone, because we’re all made in the same image. That true humanity walks in Grace and Truth (John 1:14).

God gets us. He created us. He created the idea of humanity out of His own image. But He is so much bigger and mysterious than what we can ever even try to fathom. Therefore we can’t really get Him. Some people are uncomfortable with this. Which I definitely understand. Honestly, I’m more uncomfortable with it than I’m not. But what it all really boils down to is that all throughout the Scriptures, throughout nature, throughout history, we see a God that’s not worried about people getting Him.

What we see is a God that is inviting us to know Him.

By Collin | Also posted in Culture, Struggling | Comments (1)

With Two Middle Fingers In The Air

When it comes to my relationship with God, I consider myself a pretty reverent guy. I only refer to God as “Father.” I always invite the Holy Spirit, I don’t just wait on the feeling. In general, I am easily offended—or at least irked—by joking about God. (Although I admit to laughing at a lot of Family Guy’s jokes. I can’t deny good comedy.) I even take my hat off when I pray.

Growing up in legalistic churches, not revering God is definitely a deal-breaker. If you aren’t reverent, you might as well set yourself on fire, because that’s what God’s going to do to you anyway.

So my first question:

I’ve grown up with the understanding that reverence is two things: a) respecting God as sovereign father, and b) understanding that I am stupid, God is smart, and that it’s actually ok to be that kind of robot. I’m not in anyway saying that this viewpoint of reverence is correct, I’m just saying it’s what I’ve always believed.

But what about Jacob wrestling with God? What about Jonah? Or Moses? Or Job? Even though God had the final say, at least they stood up to him, right? Why can they voice their opinion and I can’t muster up the courage to do the same? When am I allowed to throw two middle fingers up and be pissed?

I’ve been listening to David Bazan’s new record “Curse Your Branches” a lot lately. I’ve never been a huge Bazan/Pedro the Lion fan, but when I heard about the lyrical content, I was intrigued. He recently lost/started losing his faith, and this record was deemed “a breakup with God.” I gave it a listen, and although much of it is incredibly sad, the whole album is very challenging, and makes me think about myself a lot. The last verse of the last song, “In Stitches,” has some of the most pointed and emotional lyrics on the entire album:

When Job asked you the question,
You responded, “Who are you
To challenge your Creator?”
Well if that one part is true,
It makes you sound defensive
Like you had not thought it through
Enough to have an answer
Or you might have bit off more than you could chew

Just reading it gives me chills. Listening to it almost gets me choked up. It’s a pretty deep theological challenge, and he is obviously speaking out of a much more bitter, jaded heart posture than I have. That’s not really what gets me about it. (And to you reading this, I’m sorry if that theological question becomes a stumbling block. My intention is to not focus on that part.) What gets me is his honesty. The way he is talking—to the Collin of the last 20 years or so—is very irreverent. You just don’t talk to God like that.

But I’m starting to think that doubt or questioning or wrestling do not equal irreverence. And what gets me about that verse is that he is willing to talk to God in a more honest way than I ever have. Honesty does not mean irreverence. Honesty is not disrespect, or lack of honor.

In the scripture he is talking about in the song, God is basically telling Job to shut up, that He has it in control. At the same time, I don’t really think that’s a bad thing. I’m not sure its an invitation from God to be a Christian robot. I think that Job was being reverent. I think that Job needed to question God, and that God needed to rebuke him. I think Job learned that God is emotional. And that even though God is sovereign, it’s ok to get in His face every once and a while. He didn’t punish Job. He just told him to know his place.

There’s a pretty interesting website I often read called The Hardest Question where the different guest authors wrestle with some really hard theological concepts. Things that don’t make sense. Things that I would have normally just skipped over. They wrestle with the sacred texts with honor. With respect. With reverence to the Father. Without giving up on their core faith. And generally without a bitter attitude. Knowing when to say “I don’t know.” And I’m not saying there isn’t something to divine mystery. I do believe there are things we just can’t know. Or won’t know. And personally, I’m ok with that. I think mystery is just as beautiful, if not more, than understanding. Anyway…

Personally, I believe that reverence and honor has a lot more to do with submission. Which is a word I really struggle with. Submission tends to sound authoritarian. It starts to sound like what I’ve been talking about—being a robot. A few months ago I was reading about the word submission and I came across an interesting definition: “to allow oneself to be persuaded by.” This doesn’t mean blindly saying “yes.” This doesn’t mean just going with it. It means taking it in. It means allowing it to be on equal level with your own thoughts and ideas. It means putting yourself in a posture of being pliable. It means putting your heart and mind in a posture of allowing persuasion. Notice the definition is an invitation to hear someone else’s opinion, and equate it with your own. Even if you’re angry. Anger with respect. (So to answer my own question, there is never a time to throw two middle fingers in the air.)

Reverence is answering an invitation. An invitation for an honest, respectful, emotional, and quite possibly heated dialogue. And that’s what sets God apart.

By Collin | Also posted in Culture, Struggling | Comments (5)

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 | 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 | Comments (2)

A Bad Case Of Mistaken Identity, Part 1

I’m starting a new multi-part series of blog posts. I have been thinking about identity for the last few years, and I keep coming head to head with the fact that we don’t have our story straight. That we are identifying with our sin, identifying with all these things that we aren’t to identify with. Our identity is only in one thing—being created in the Image of God. Here is part one.

Where Does Our Story Start?

I must preface this section by saying that much of it is inspired by/appropriated from a sermon Rob Bell gave about a year ago, titled “The Importance of Beginning in the Beginning.” If you can get your hands on it and listen to it, I wouldn’t be able to recommend it enough. It is literally one of the most important messages I have ever heard.

I’m pretty sure everyone knows the Creation story. Or at least the gist of it. And I’m also pretty sure that everyone knows at least the most important part of the story of the fall of man. They are stories that are ingrained into Christians from a young age, as well as stories that permeate our culture and humanity. No matter what you believe—or if you even believe it—this idea that we were once perfect, and then something happened to screw it all up, it’s just in us.

But where are we starting the story? In my Bible, Genesis 1 and 2 come before Genesis 3. How about yours?

Genesis 1 and 2 are two distinctly different, and beautiful pieces of poetry revealing God’s nature as a Creator, and revealing our proper nature as the Creation. In end of the first part (1:31), the text reads:

“And God saw everything that He had made, and behold, it was very good (suitable, pleasant) and He approved it completely. And there was evening and there was morning, a sixth day.” (Amplified Version)

 

Notice the text doesn’t say “perfect”. This is interesting to me. God made us “good,” “suitable,” and “pleasant” but with the ability to choose imperfection. Anyway, in the second part (2:7), another great thing is revealed:

“Then the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath or spirit of life, and man became a living being.” (Amplified Version)

So we learn from the very beginning of our sacred narrative that we were created good, and that we were given the very breath and spirit of life. Even though the Hebrew word for life in this verse is predominantly talking about literal, physical life, I can’t help but connect it to the spiritual, abundant life that Jesus speaks of in John 10:10. Our identity from our very creation is in the fact that we are made in the image of the Most High God. It’s who we are.

It’s not until Genesis 3 where humanity chooses imperfection. Humanity chooses to separate itself from this “good” thing. But as much as it would be easy to say this is where our identity changes form because of a stupid, selfish choice, it’s just not true. And if we start our Bibles here, we start with the posture of who we aren’t, rather than who we are.

I look mostly like my mom, and kind of like my dad. I act mostly like my dad, and kind of like my mom. My last name is Simula. A name that was passed on by my dad, a name that I, in turn, am passing on to my sons. At any time, I could choose to change my last name. Or I could get cosmetic surgery to change my appearance. Or I could see a behavioral specialist and try to change how my personality works. I could choose to never speak to my family again. But the fact of the matter is that nothing I can do can separate me from the fact that my identity as a human is in the fact that I am a Simula, and I am a spitting image of my mom and dad. I can try as hard as possible to change this fact, but the bare facts will still always remain.

It’s that simple. We were created in the Image of God. And we are considered good, suitable, and pleasant. Our story starts with this simple truth. And nothing can change that.

On to part two »

By Collin | Also posted in Culture, Encouragement, Struggling, The Classics | Comments (8)

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 | 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... | Comments (1)