Belief in Free Will?

(Before you read this, please note, I'm not trying to start a fight with anyone. This is a topic to be discussed between Christian brothers and sisters who recognize that we are trying to describe an ineffable God, who is beyond our understanding, and who eludes our grasp. We all see through a glass darkly, therefore imperfectly this side of heaven. Nonetheless, I feel talking about theological differences helps us clarify what we believe, while recognizing that these differences do not need to separate or divide us. With all this in mind, feel free to journey with me.)

I just finished what I believe is an important book for all Christians interested in Reformed and Arminian theology. Roger Olson, the author of Arminian Theology: Myths and Realities, outlines the common misunderstandings of Arminian theology as often presented by those in the Reformed tradition. The book is very enlightening and one that should grace the shelves of every pastor in America.

One of the more interesting comments he makes is that the heart of Arminian theology is not free will. Quite honestly this statement was news to me. I had assumed, along with most everyone else, that free will is the dividing line, the central issue that separates the Calvinists from the Wesleyans. However, the issue is much deeper than to believe or not to believe in free will.

Olson writes: "Arminianism begins with God's goodness and ends by affirming free will. The latter follows from the former, and the former is based on divine revelation; God reveals himself as unconditionally and unequivocally good, which does not exclude justice and wrathful retribution. It only excludes the possibility of God sinning, willing others to sin or causing sin" (99).

In other words, Arminius was somewhat troubled by certain schemes that suggest sin was willed or caused by God. According to some, since God controls absolutely everything, including human choice, God also caused or willed the first human couple to sin. Furthermore, many work from the assumption that God has already foreordained some to be saved and others to be damned. According to Arminius views like this implicate God in the sin and evil of the world.

But if God is good and just, it would seem impossible for God to set up a universe where both sin and evil would be inevitable. This is where free will is affirmed. God created the world and humans with the ability to resist his love, otherwise a true relationship is not possible.

Now such an affirmation does not deny that God is not in control. Nor does it deny that God is capable of controlling the decisions of certain people for his good purposes. The bible affirms that God is in control and that he does control history through the actions of others. What Arminius denies is that God controls all human choices, especially the choice to rebel against God. For doesn't scripture teach that God desires the salvation of every human being? 1 Timothy 2:4 and 2 Peter 3:9 seem to suggest that it does.

Now the question remains, Does this mean humans actually choose God? The answer is no. We don't choose God. Rather, God calls and woos and directs and persuades. Arminius calls this work of God prior to our acceptance of his mercy as prevenient grace, the grace that goes before. You see, before saying yes to God's forgiving love, God was there guiding and directing. Therefore we can never take credit for our choice. It's all of God. The only real freedom we have is the freedom to resist. That's it.

In short, God is good, thoroughly good, he wills the harm and destruction of no one but works for the healing of all.

Peace.

Are Experiences Potential Idols?

I've had some really interesting conversations lately about the church that are making me think about what we really value.

In one conversation we were talking about how feelings get attached to certain activities in the church, then those activities become sacred. For instance music has this effect on us. When we were young there were certain songs that lifted our depressed souls to the hope of heaven. Because of that experience, that particular song becomes sacred and even more theologically sound in our minds.

The same happens with certain objects in the church. Many might say, "Back in the day I experienced God's forgiving love at the altar of a church; ever since then, I've returned to an altar in prayer to remember God's grace in my life." The pattern is the same: the experience makes the altar sacred.

This approach can be multiplied many times over with a variety of issues--certain prayers, responses to the gospel message, ways of participating in communion. When these are associated with strong feelings we assume they're sacred and should never be changed.

Well in this recent meeting with these wonderful pastors, we kept going back to this issue of how spiritual experiences really shape our understanding of how churches should function. Many people want that song that blessed them in the 1950s. Others want to see people respond to the gospel just like they did. After several rounds of this, I finally blurted out, "Maybe the problem is our overemphasis on experience."

Now don't get me wrong, the gospel has to be appropriated--individually and personally. I believe, along with Paul, the Spirit pours his love into our hearts (Romans 5). However a person who continually seeks an experience might be stunting their spiritual growth and maybe even the growth of the church.

St. John of the Cross speaks to this issue repeatedly. He argues that to seek spiritual consolation is often but another way to avoid growing up in Christ. Many Christians want that "Old Time Religion" and its feelings, clinging to the past and continually longing for that same spiritual feeling. When it's put in these terms, it appears they're seeking an experience and not really God. They become spiritual gluttons, unwilling to take up their cross and journey with Jesus, thinking that Christianity is all about feeling better about oneself. They also become a little judgmental toward anyone who doesn't share their experience. Therefore they remain immature, refusing to move forward and journey with God, staying stuck in the past with an over-reliance on feelings, unwilling to rejoice with those who are serving Christ with different songs or forms of worship.

I believe the better approach is to seek God and what he's doing in the music and in the sermons and in the activities of the church. In fact St. John of the Cross suggests that we should never indulge an experience; the experiences and its feelings need to be set aside immediately before it creates confusion in our spiritual lives. The point is not the feeling but what God is doing to shape us into his disciples. Feelings, though important as gifts from God, can often detract us from the call to journey with Jesus in obedience.

God might be ready to bless new songs, different sermon forms, new ways of doing church. Think about the early church and it's decision to give up circumcision. Wow! Talk about a sacred tradition. Yet, they gave it up because God was doing a new thing.

What about us? What does God want to bless? What is he blessing? Dare we protest because we're seeking spiritual consolation? I think not.

Peace.

Customer Service

Several months ago we landscaped our backyard. I selected, intentionally, a company that prided itself on customer service. For the most part they were dedicated to trying to make me happy.

After a while I started to realize their effort to please was somewhat disconcerting. They continually asked me, What do you want? How many inches of exposed foundation? How many drains? Do you like this drainage system?

As they peppered me with these questions I realized that in some areas of life a high premium on customer service can be problematic. After all, I'm not the expert; they should be telling me this is what we believe will work.

This little lesson applies to the church. The church should not be gripped by the foolish dream of trying to make our "customers" happy. No doubt, we should be hospitable and loving. But should we strive to please? I don't think so.

The church is called to proclaim the truth about God. We don't have the luxury to discern what perceived needs need to be met to keep people happy. Instead we must learn to situate ourselves in the story of God's revelation through Israel and Israel's messiah.

Of course this is no excuse for arrogance or for a refusal to listen. But when it comes down to it, the gospel defines the need as well as the answer. So the question remains, Will we allow our lives to be re-narrated by the story of sin and redemption?

Peace.

Atticus Finch: A Man's Man

Recently I've been reading To Kill A Mockingbird. The book has moved me in countless ways. In particular, it has spoken to me about what it means to be a father and a man.

What I love about Atticus is not only his willingness to suffer for his convictions, but his willingness to let his children suffer as well. Atticus is called upon to defend an African American for an alleged rape of a white woman. He knows his children will suffer for his decision to do what is right yet proceeds anyway. At one point in the story, he tells Scout, his daughter, that he would not be able to discipline her--at least not with integrity--if he did not fulfill his duty.

I find this action challenging to our own cultural assumptions. It seems as if many in our culture believe the worst thing that can happen to our children is that they suffer. Many parents hover near their children to protect them from any challenge or any pain they might experience. This approach helps no one in the end. In fact, I'm coming to believe that there's something much worse than our children suffering, and that's showing them that there's nothing worth suffering for.

This is related to another fear I have about our modern understanding of what it means to be a parent: Our lives are so intertwined with our children's that we don't know where their life ends and where our's begins. Too many parents live to make their children happy, which creates a perpetual childhood. Parents surrender their adulthood, trying to make their children happy, but in the end, give their children little worthy of aspiration.

Atticus is a different. He's a man with values. He's living his own life and inviting his children--gently and slowly--to become adults with him. By embracing justice in an unjust world, Atticus displays a character dedicated to living for what's good and true, even if the result is suffering.

So what am I after here?

To begin, I believe we need to let our children be children. Let them explore again. Give them more freedom. Let them play without adult supervision and let them solve their own problems. The world is safer--at least where we live--than any other time or place in history.

I also believe it's time for adults to be adults. We don't have to live our dreams through our children; we should have our own dreams. We don't have to be fixated on having trophy children; we should be setting examples for our children. We don't have to control their lives and monitor every step of their existence; we should let them figure out some things on their own. Last but not least, we can give up an adolescent desire to be liked, even by our children.

For in the end, if we're not adults, what can we possibly say or give that will really make a difference? It's time for us to become wise, to grow up, and invite our children to do the same. With nurture, patience and most importantly, wisdom and virtue, we can help our children see the world right.

Peace.

Convictions Gone Awry

Recently I've been reading a biography of Jonathan Edwards by George Mardsen. The book is beautifully written, detailing the life and times of Mr. Edwards as well as his theology.

For those of you who don't know, Jonathan Edwards is often considered to be America's greatest theologian. He was a reformed minister, instrumental--both by his preaching and writing--in leading one of America's greatest revivals in the 18th century.

In a chapter entitled "The Crucible" the reader is introduced to Jonathan's forced resignation. Edwards believed that one must show some credible signs of salvation in order to participate in the sacraments. Furthermore, all parents requesting baptism for their infants must testify to a vibrant faith in Christ. Both of these stances, after almost 20 years of ministry in the same town, did not go over well. Eventually, the church voted him out, without really wrestling with the issues at hand.

Here's how Mardsen summarizes Jonathan Edward's reflections upon this event: "It was a great advantage to his opponents, especially in stirring upon the common people, 'that the controversy was a religious controversy.' Because 'a precious and important doctrine of the Word of God' was said to be at stake, the people could 'look on their zeal against me as a virtue.' They could 'christen even their passions and bitterness in such a cause with sanctified names, and to let 'em loose and prosecute the views of their bitterness and violence without check of conscience.'" (Edward's words in italics)

I think he's right. There's something about convictions that can tempt us to embrace ungodly behavior. In fact, religious convictions often inspire us to embrace attitudes and actions that do not reflect the grace of Christ. Does this mean we abandon all convictions? By no means. Rather, we must always pursue truth with a spirit of humility and with a desire to remain reconciled. Anything less than that simple commitment will not serve anyone well, not to mention failing to reflect the grace and truth of the Word.

I imagine this church that ran Edwards out of town has already realized they could have done better had they remembered who and whose they are. Paul's words to the Ephesians applies: "Therefore I, the prisoner of the Lord, implore you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling with which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, showing tolerance for one another in love, being diligent to preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. 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." (Ephesians 4.1-5)

Peace.