How not to read the Bible (my take)

Posted at 10:36 AM

Inspired by Glen Scrivener. You’ll notice one big difference in my take, which is probably telling.

Lord, help me understand this passage. I know that without you, my ears will be closed to your message. Please teach me. Amen. Okay… Luke 5. Oh, I know this passage. The disciples don’t catch any fish until Jesus gets there, and then loads arrive. Now, it’s probably easy to fall into some exegetical trap here – not quite sure what, but I’ve got to be careful. Oh wait, I’ve thought of something. The disciples didn’t succeed because Jesus wasn’t there, but now we have Jesus our every effort will be fruitful, and if it’s not, well, we don’t trust Jesus enough. That’s the wrong way to read this, so I’ll avoid thinking that…

…what do these Bible reading notes say? Hmm, not sure that’s very helpful – “in what ways is Simon an example to us?” We don’t want to be falling into the trap of just gaining moral example from the Bible, now, do we? It’s about revealing Jesus, and being transformed by him. Some people just don’t get it…

…so all I seem to get here is stuff about the power of Jesus. Yeah, got that – he did a load of healing in chapter 4, and of course I know he’s powerful already. So what else is there? Ah, he makes them fishers of men at the end. So today’s message is: do more evangelism. I think I can allow that: in this context what Jesus tells the disciples must be applicable to me. Right. Got it. On with the day.

Sometimes I read the Bible worried I’m going to interpret it wrong, and so ignore the obvious. Sometimes I read it looking for a specific encouragement for the day, and just find a very familiar story. I pray that God would teach me, and that a greater sight of Jesus would transform me – and then make Bible reading an intellectual exercise. Too often I think “I know that, give me something fresh!”. I don’t see that I’ve lost an opportunity to re-fresh my love of Jesus, through seeing his power, his holiness, his love, his excellence afresh. Most of all, my Bible reading and my prayer become me-centred, rather than giving me a chance to become more Jesus-centred and other-centred.

Is my theology of human responsibility so weak that I think all I need to do is read the passage for five minutes and that’s good enough?

Theology is the revolution

Posted at 1:23 PM

Mike Reeves helps explain what theology is, in the context of Judges 6:25-28 (quote taken from 9 minutes into DIY Theology):

Theology is smashing up idols – smashing up the idols in our mind and in our world. And not just smashing them up but replacing them with (v26) proper kinds of altars to the Lord our God: replacing them all with Jesus Christ. So the story here is: Gideon is surrounded by the idolatry of the Mideonite regime. and he begins the revolution against it by bulldozing Baal. And that is theology! It’s not just reading books, studying languages, whatever: it is about rebelling against the world order, not just the Mideonites little regime, rebelling against the whole world order as it rebels against God. Rebelling against it, bringing down the system, utterly replacing it: that is theology. Theology is the revolution.

Ranald Macaulay writes of Francis Schaeffer:

From the very beginning, then, Schaeffer had a mind for what he called “True Truth.” He loved the Bible and its message of salvation first and foremost because it is “true.” It accurately reflects the reality within which all human beings find themselves and against which, ultimately, they cannot revolt – try as they may.

The corollary of this was a sense of inescapable responsibility to unmask and challenge falsehood. Other religious and philosophical worldviews, he realized, are basically “lies” and/or distortions of the truth, as much in relation to the created order as in relation to God’s acts of salvation through history. So Schaeffer’s approach to “apologetics” was already “presuppositional” from the start. Begin with the Christian worldview and everything makes sense: Start elsewhere and nothing does.

Sometimes I’ll say “the Bible is true” with my mouth, but be relativistic in my thoughts, thinking that it’s not true for others. That makes no sense, though. “True Truth” is true for everyone.

Blaise Pascal wrote:

Men despise religion; they hate it and fear it is true. To remedy this, we must begin by showing that religion is not contrary to reason; that it is venerable, to inspire respect for it; then we must make it lovable, to make good men hope it is true; finally, we must prove it is true.

So often I don’t have confidence in any of these points. Our culture defines faith (a better term than religion for Christianity) as being irrational, only worthy of ridicule, something to be hated, to be got rid of so we can stop worrying and enjoy our lives, but above all, as dangerous, nonsensical falsehood.

But why do I listen to our culture, the “world order [that] rebels against God”? Later on in his talk (twelve minutes twenty seconds in), Mike Reeves says:

Christian theology is about clearing out all the junk in our minds that we’ve accumulated through years of just listening to the world, and replacing it with truth. It’s putting on the mind of Christ and so sifting out the lies in our culture. It’s washing our brains with the Mediator, rather than being brainwashed by the media.

God is a God who speaks. Ultimately, he has spoken to us “by his Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, and through whom he also made the universe” (Hebrews 1:1-2). Without God’s revelation of himself, we can’t know True Truth. But God has revealed himself through Jesus, through the words of the Bible, through history, through creation – “the heavens declare the glory of God” (Psalm 19:1). The Teacher’s cry of “Meaningless!” in Ecclesiastes can be answered. We can have confidence in God’s truth, because it is True Truth.

Theology is the “true research: as we re-search reality afresh in the light of how God has revealed it to be” (Reeves again, twelve minutes in); “It’s walking through life with a torch on. It’s refusing to drift with the zeitgeist” (thirteen minutes). The world is constantly bombarding us with its own truth, but it doesn’t describe reality. The Bible makes sense of how things are. It’s true for everyone, and not just me. Christian faith is rational, and there are many ways I can show this to others; it will be ridiculed, because the message of the cross is foolishness, but I know that God’s folly is greater than man’s wisdom (1 Corinthians 1:18-25); it is something to be loved, because it shows how things really are, gives a wonderful solution to our greatest need, and shows us Christ, who is infinitely desirable; and it is true.

We Christians need to “wash our brains with the Mediator, rather than being brainwashed by the media” (cf. Romans 12:2). We need to think Christianly about our lives, our careers, our relationships; about politics, poverty and public morality. We need to “rebel against the whole world order as it rebels against God”. Theology should turn our lives upside-down, because it’s through theology that we see the world as is really is; we see ourselves as we really are; and above all, we see who the God of the universe really is.

It turns out that not only is theology incredibly practical, it’s incredibly exciting too.

(Read more by Mike Reeves: Fear and Loathing in Las Vagueness.)

The next step

Posted at 11:52 PM

Last week I accepted a place on UCCF’s Relay scheme, working with the University of Sussex Christian Union (USCU). So I’m currently trying to sort a house for next year, alongside raising some money, finding people to pray for me and finishing my degree!

The process to get here was a long one. Looking back through this blog, I can see where my thoughts started taking me in this direction. In April last year I was wondering about secular work versus “gospel” work, and thinking that a secular job might be great, but wasn’t sure whether a “gospel” job would be better. Soon afterwards, I came across the idea of “creation” and “new creation” activities, and saw that everyone is involved in a bit of both, but for some the balance might be different. I still wasn’t sure how to tell where the balance should lie in my life.

In July I wrote that a good way to figure that out would be to get on and do something, with the oversight and input of wiser people, and see if you had the gifts necessary, while growing in the maturity necessary. I mentioned Relay as a way you might do this, and by this stage was seriously considering it myself.

Since coming to uni I’ve been doing both creation and new creation activities. I love my degree (though it’s definitely got better as it’s progressed!), I love the choir I sing with, I love messing around recording covers with friends, and performing with them in concerts; I’ve loved the excitement of student mission, but realise frequently how bad I am at it; I’ve loved getting stuck into the Bible with others, seeing God’s goodness as we read together; I’ve grown so much from the input of older Christians at church; I’ve been blessed with opportunities to help younger Christians. In terms of priorities, or time spent, the emphasis is of course on my degree – all the music I do. Relay is a chance to change the balance, and work at the new creation stuff full time, with music on the side. The idea is to better see where the balance should be for me in the future, as well as grow lots in all sorts of ways, with a staff worker discipling me, getting great teaching and training, and generally getting to spend time learning, growing and serving.

I’m excited about it, but am currently focussing on a large composition for orchestra, so have very little time to think about it – which is probably all to the good, as I too easily slip into forgetting my present situation and responsibilities, concentrating too much on the next stage, and not enjoying or appreciating where I am now.

So, a few more weeks of writing orchestral music, and then I’m a full-time apprentice student worker/evangelist (albeit one on holiday for two months…)! Should be good.

In Search of Wabi-Sabi

Posted at 11:46 PM

This afternoon I watched a documentary on iPlayer about the Japanese concept of “wabi-sabi”, loosely defined as the beauty found in imperfection or transience. The concept wasn’t entirely new to me; I knew the Japanese prized transience (for example, their love of the cherry blossom), and in some respects seem far more comfortable with the idea of death than we are as Westerners. Still, I’d never heard the term, and so was fascinated as time and time again, the presenter (Marcel Theroux) found people gave him their own (different) understanding of what wabi-sabi meant.

Towards the end, the presenter visits a Buddhist monastery, having been told that the wabi-sabi aesthetic originally came from Zen Buddhism. In it, he finds a very ordered and regimented life, and bemoans the lack of “me-time”. At night, he wonders about the life the monks have chosen:

It’s weird because Buddhism is founded on an awareness of the impermanence of things, which is the root of wabi-sabi as well – and yet, instead of thinking “things are impermanent, I’m just going to open a beer, lie on the sofa, watch football, or wear a fat suit and slob around, or play on the fruit machines for the rest of my life”, they take the opposite tack and say “I’m going to commit to this very, very difficult and austere life”, (and that’ll) give it meaning in a cosmic way? I don’t know, it’s very strange.

Later, after a conversation with the Abbott, he mentions how he basically agreed with what the Abbott said:

We’re born, we die, we’re a cosmic irrelevance.

How do you live in the light of this? I’m still very new to the ideas of Zen Buddhism, and didn’t quite see how they were responding to their belief in our transience. How they ended up was interesting though: an almost ascetic, ritualised life, away from the world. Marcel’s “opposite tack” is just as empty, though. With no meaning in life, you have to come up with something, surely? And be it environmentalism, fair trade, pacifism, politics, partying or procreation, we all try to find something.

Marcel comments at the end:

We’re living in an age which is being derailed by a culture of greed, of possessions, of bling. Wouldn’t we be so much better off if our journey through life was guided instead by a spirit that celebrates silence and the smallness of things, the inevitability of change, the impossibility of perfection and the happiness of others? I think we could all do with a bit of that.

It’s a very “closing line of documentary” kind of sentence – the moral of the story, the take-home message. There’s something missing from this way of thinking, though, and I think it’s captured in the following quote:

If an object or expression can bring about, within us, a sense of serene melancholy and a spiritual longing, then that object could be said to be wabi-sabi. (Andrew Juniper, Wabi Sabi: The Japanese Art of Impermanence)

C. S. Lewis writes about a similar feeling:

The books or the music in which we thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust to them; it was not in them, it only came through them, and what came through was longing. These things… are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshippers. For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of the flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited. (C .S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory, from Faith, Christianity and the Church)

What’s missing is the consummation; what’s missing is what it is we’re longing for. There is no ultimate meaning or satisfaction in the aesthetic of wabi-sabi, just as there is no meaning in Zen Buddhism, or in consumerism, or in environmentalism, or procreation. Maybe that’s just the way things are, and we have to live life in the light of it. But doesn’t the longing for something suggest that it exists? Lewis comments that the desire for food doesn’t necessarily mean we’re going to get fed – but it does mean that food exists and we need it, otherwise why would we be hungry?

The Teacher of Ecclesiastes has the following to say about finding meaning in life:

Meaningless! Meaningless!” says the Teacher.
“Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.”
What does anyone gain from all their labors
at which they toil under the sun?
Generations come and generations go,
but the earth remains forever.
The sun rises and the sun sets,
and hurries back to where it rises.
The wind blows to the south
and turns to the north;
round and round it goes,
ever returning on its course.
All streams flow into the sea,
yet the sea is never full.
To the place the streams come from,
there they return again.
All things are wearisome,
more than one can say.
The eye never has enough of seeing,
nor the ear its fill of hearing.
What has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again;
there is nothing new under the sun.
(Ecclesiastes 1:2-9, TNIV)

The whole of Ecclesiastes sees the Teacher trying to find meaning outside of God. His conclusion? There isn’t any: but in God, there is!

Surely the wabi-sabi aesthetic points outside itself, to the God in whom all longings will finally be met. The beauty in melancholy, incompleteness, transience, serves to point beyond itself to the consummation. There is meaning in life, and God has revealed it to us. There’s no need to hide from the meaninglessness of life, whether by losing ourselves in transcendental meditation or an alcoholic haze. God gives meaning to all of life, so environmentalism, fair trade, politics, even partying and procreation have their place and their purpose. We’re freed to enjoy the good life God made us for, even as we groan with the creation and long for its renewal. Beauty is given meaning, including the beauty of imperfection. Finding wabi-sabi isn’t the point – for wabi-sabi should lead us to find God.

(Possibly related: Dreaming of the City and Longing for community from February 2008.)