The Christian Imagination

I just started reading Michael Horton’s book, where he points to a USA Today article last year titled, Has the ‘notion of sin’ been lost? I actually remember reading an except from it, now that I’ve read the whole article. There are 656 comments on the article, pro and con.

Growing up old-time pentecostal rather than evangelical, we talked a lot about sin. So, I’ve never been one to forget about the notion. On the contrary, I’ve had to learn, and continue to learn, to not think about my mistakes. One of the valid reasons that people find sin distasteful is because sin sometimes becomes the focus. When I focus on sinning less to be a better person, usually by strength of will, I tend to get discouraged and sin more, not less.  When I trust God in my weakness, I often find myself feeling better about myself and not desiring to sin as much. Yet, even knowing that by experience, it’s so easy to focus on myself and try harder.

The following quote hits the mark.

“People who trust in themselves and in their own merits are, as it were, blinded by their own ‘I,’ and their hearts harden in sin. On the other hand, those who recognize themselves as weak and sinful entrust themselves to God, and from him obtain grace and forgiveness.”

That was by Pope Benedict XVI. I’m not Catholic, but amen.

The great weakness in the North American church at large, and certainly in my life, is our refusal to accept our brokenness. We hide it, evade it, gloss over it. We grab for the cosmetic kit and put on our virtuous face to make ourselves admirable to the public. Thus, we present to others a self that is spiritually together, superficially happy, and lacquered with a sense of self-deprecating humor that passes for humility. The irony is that while I do not want anyone to know that I am judgmental, lazy, vulnerable, screwed up, and afraid, for fear of losing face, the face that I fear losing is the mask of the impostor, not my own!

The above quote is from Ruthless Trust by Brennan Manning. I’ve read this book before, but it’s been awhile. I hit a wall one day a few weeks ago, and went to a bookstore in a nearby town. I like Manning, and started to read it while there, and my thirsty soul took it in. It has been speaking to me, partially because it is so easy to get wrapped up in being successful, both in business and as a Christian. When I fail to live up to it, then I may get self-absorbed and get down on myself. Never a good thing. I’ve been reminded that I am a ragamuffin, that I need to trust Jesus, and be thankful. The way I wrote those words, it sounds like activities. No, it’s about the little child looking up at his daddy with arms open.

The quote at the top stood out to me as it make me think of the quote from Donald Grey Barnhouse in my last post. Sometimes Christianity is like that. The ironic thing is, not only do I find superficial Christianity distasteful, so does the world. I had sent the Barnhouse quote to someone, who responded that it reminded him of some local Christians who were supporting the notion of Character, and also of the movie Pleasantville. My response, with minor editing is as follows. This is my own brokenness on display.

I agree with conservative types that character is important, and the Bible does talk about character in leaders, but part of character, Biblically, is being in the light. And pleasantness doesn’t encourage this. When I am struggling with life and God and confidence and stuff, and I have a lot of late, being in a social gathering of pleasant Christians is the last place I want to be. It feels like work, feeling like it’s almost not okay to express that life isn’t always wonderful, like it, in theory, should be. Granted, I should perhaps have more joy than I do, but a lot of than depends on how much I trust God (or don’t) at a given time. Time for me to find a smaller group again, but even then, finding a place where everyone else in the group isn’t pleasant, or maybe I just have to make things unpleasant.

I liked Pleasantville. While movies like Pleasantville and American Beauty are selfish and skewed, what I like about them is the idea of people breaking out of the routine of simply going through the motions and finding life. Being hurt. Taking risks. Doing new things. The sister in Pleasantville found life by learning, by becoming something more substantive. When people started to have emotions, to feel, rather than just exist, they became alive. I don’t think people in Pleasantville had perfect character. Character on the outside doesn’t mean there is character on the inside, or in our private moments. A façade isn’t character. It seems that when people started expressing what they felt on the inside, what they really thought and felt, then they found color.

While the book Wild at Heart has flaws, in my opinion, it also has a bit of that notion of not just playing it safe and going through the motions. As in, what is life? Are we alive or just existing. It’s hard to grow into each other if we are always wondering what we might do wrong that would make people cease to love us. I sometimes wonder that. But when lines get crossed, and we stay in relationship, then there is a freedom there. Yet, so often I don’t get to that point, because it’s easier to be pleasant, even if I don’t like being pleasant. I think character misses the point completely and I also don’t think it’s a Biblical focus. “All have sinned” puts us all at the foot of the cross at the same level, in need of Christ, in need of each other. While that doesn’t mean sin is okay, it isn’t, or that it isn’t possible to overcome it to a degree (and people can argue about what degree it is possible in this life), the pursuit of being sinless seems to often be at odds with being in relationship to each other, and having it be okay for us to be there for each other, not in an “you’re broken so I’ll try to fix you” way, but in a “I’m here for you and will love you through it all as we press on together” way.

I don’t feel that right now. Part of that is just working on my own trust of God. Am re-reading Ruthless Trust by Brennan Manning. Reminds me how hard the message of grace is. Trust and gratitude, so basic, and so very hard to live out. Sigh. It’s what I’m thinking about right now, that and needing Christ, and needing people.

I just stumbled upon this post from Conversant Life: Friday Night Church & A Call To A Higher Standard. He says a lot of good things, including challenging the idea of relevance. I suggest reading it. I want to highlight this point:

I’d challenge us to quit using the word “relevant” all together when trying to define church. What would it look like to be a post-relevant culture? To stop playing catch up, to create rather than copy with the confidence that we have a direct connection with the greatest creator of all?

There was a time when I was all for relevance. Now, I’m really not sure if how much of American Christendom understands what it means to truly be relevant. I think that in trying to be relevant, the American church is making itself less relevant. Moreover, trying to copy popular culture, which by definition, is culture based on fleeting popularity, is just not a good idea. There are a lot of semantics involved in this discussion, and I don’t want to paint with too broad a brush, because really, it depends on specifically what a given church, organization, or person is doing to be relevant. So with that disclaimer, what does it mean to be relevant?

What do people need? Really need? Style may get people in the door, but substance is what keeps them involved. A life that isn’t just about them. Relationships with people who love each other. A God who is bigger than we can imagine.

I believe it’s important to UNDERSTAND culture. Culture is the context within which we communicate. If I, as a middle-class white American, were to move to inner city Denver, I wouldn’t instantly have shared meaning with people around me. There are a lot of things I’ve never experienced, wouldn’t understand, and even words that may have different meanings than I’m used to. How would I be relevant in that context? If I simply copied the culture around me and started to use the lingo, and did this before developing trust, that would likely make a lot of people cynical. I might even seem fake. I once listened to a pastor at a contemporary service who obviously was used to a more formal environment. He used an anecdote from the Spider-Man movie, and did so in a way that made me wonder if he’d even seen the movie. He failed to be relevant and to me, sounded like an idiot at that moment.

There are examples, though, of missionaries like Hudson Taylor in China:

The party donned Chinese clothing, notwithstanding - even the women missionaries - which was deemed semi-scandalous at the time. When other missionaries sought to preserve their British ways, Taylor was convinced that the Gospel would only take root in Chinese soil if missionaries were willing to affirm the culture of the people they were seeking to reach. He argued, from the example of the Apostle Paul, “Let us in everything not sinful become like the Chinese, that by all means we may save some.”

This is going beyond mere attempts at relevance to being incarnational. It’s letting go, dying to ourselves, taking the time to understand the culture of those around us, and involving ourselves in the lives of people around us. Do that, and relevance will be a byproduct. I realize, in saying all that, how hard it is to live that out. That’s precisely why we so often don’t do it and settle for creating a safe version of pop culture with a little Jesus thrown in where we can invite people on our terms. It’s easier than going to where people are at and being Jesus to them.

My thoughts on this are a work in progress. Am I on the right track or totally off base? Anything to add?

I was recently pointed to a quote from Michael Horton’s book, Christless Christianity. You can read the first chapter online here. I have to admit, I agree with most of what he says in the chapter. The chapter begins with this challenging statement:

What would things look like if Satan really took control of a city? Over a half century ago, Presbyterian minister Donald Grey Barnhouse offered his own scenario in his weekly sermon that was also broadcast nationwide on CBS radio. Barnhouse speculated that if Satan took over Philadelphia, all of the bars would be closed, pornography banished, and pristine streets would be filled with tidy pedestrians who smiled at each other. There would be no swearing. The children would say, “Yes, sir” and “No, ma’am,” and the churches would be full every Sunday . . . where Christ is not preached.

That’s not the typical response, but it rings true to me. Does it to you? One time when some friends and I were discussing evangelism, my friend was talking about people who need Christ, and then pulled out his photo ID. “This is a person who needs Jesus.” I was reminded of that myself recently, that I am in need of Jesus, not as a means to an end, but that I simply need Jesus Christ. Sometimes, though, that notion gets lost, and then I try to be good…and then it becomes about me.

A few more quotes from the chapter:

If we are good people who have lost our way but with the proper instructions and motivation can become a better person, we need only a life coach, not a redeemer.

Aside from the packaging, there is nothing that cannot be found in most churches today that could not be satisfied by any number of secular programs and self-help groups.

Let me be a little more precise about what I am assuming to be the regular diet in many churches across America today: “do more, try harder.”

So, in my view, we are living out our creed, but that creed is closer to the American Dream than it is to the Christian faith.

Horton is a Reformed 5 Point Calvinist. I read his book on the topic, Putting Amazing Back Into Grace, many years ago. I came away with a respect for the theology, even though I didn’t embrace it. It’s all the more interesting to me, though, that Tom Sine, who is a Mennonite, and who comes from a totally different perspective, said something similar to the last quote above, “For all the talk about the lordship of Jesus, my generation sold the young the American dream with a little Jesus overlay.”

Maybe that’s why I wonder about Christianity at times. Sometimes it seems to be no more than a philosophy of life. One of my good friends detests self-help books. When I was at the bookstore yesterday, it occurred to me how many books were ‘how to’ books espousing their ‘answer’ to some question. It bothered me. I’ve read quite a few self-help books, many of them written by Christians. They have their place, but at some point, all the formulas fall flat. Increasingly, I find myself liking books that don’t have formulas, that point out that most things worth doing are hard and take effort. Jesus didn’t come to answer our questions and give us a philosophy of how to live. He came to be the answer and to give us life.

And with that, I’ll read the rest of Horton’s book as soon as the library gets it in.