Voyage of the Purpose-Driven Treader

I remember first reading Voyage of the Dawn Treader when I was about 6 years old.  My parents had introduced me to the Chronicles of Narnia several years before, and this particular book quickly grew to be my favorite.  I'm not sure why, though for now I'll chalk it up to a young boy's fascination with exploration and adventure.

As I grew older, I put these books aside for more mature fantasy, seeking solace in the likes of Tolkein and Lawhead, along with many, many other types of fiction.  It wasn't until a few years ago (I'm now pushing the venerable age of 33) that I started to reassess some of the more poignant moments in C.S. Lewis' grand fantasy series (as well as critique those moments which were poorer).

All this to say, it was probably a mistake to watch the movies.

Now, being a somewhat curmudgeonly individual, I have a tendency to view movies stemming from prestigious novels much in the way one views rattlesnakes, bears, and dentists: healthy respect for the sheer amount of destruction they can cause, along with a dash of pure, unadulterated fear of an underlying unspeakable horror associated with them.  All told, I think these two reactions have pretty well validated themselves: my opinions on the abomination that was The Lord of the Rings as well as the Jason Bourne movies will have to wait for another time.

Meanwhile, I'd like to highlight a few of the more egregious moments from this particular movie/disaster.

Temptation and Inner Struggle

To be perfectly fair, one of my close friends acknowledged a very important point about this particular episode in the Chronicles of Narnia.  It is, by far, the hardest to make a movie out of.  The book itself doesn't have a cohesive overarching plot, but rather is an aggregation of several mini-plots and grand adventures, culminating in one small creature's pursuit of the land of his liege.  The children are given new insights into who they are, along with [admittedly less-developed] an understanding of who Aslan is, and how insufficient their knowledge of him (in light of his true identity) is.

How one builds a movie which would appeal to the masses out of this is somewhat beyond me.  Hence, the expansion of the "dark island" chapter into a larger plot.  Here (in the movie) is the center of all things evil (kinda), and it is up to the crew of the Dawn Treader, along with Lucy and Edmund's help (we'll get to Eustace shortly), to seek seven magical swords which will, through some means the audience is not privy to, defeat it.

Plot holes and contrivances aside, I'd like to narrow down on one more the more insipid moments in the movie.

Throughout the crew's voyage, they are continually confronted by glowing, green mist.  This mist stealthily slithers its way on scene during those pivotal moments when individuals are being confronted with their greatest temptations.  The mist seems to act as an intensifier for these temptations, allowing them to take on a near-corporeal form, of some kind, bearing full force against those in conflict.

Each time, the temptation aspect is greatly emphasized.  Lucy is tempted with her own insecurities; Edmund is tempted by his past and his longing for primacy.  Eustace is tempted by...well, a lust for gold, apparently.  I would expect the director is trying to portray something more significant with Eustace, but...well, it likely fell victim to the editing crew and the cutting room floor.  Again, we'll get to him in a bit.

In short, the director zooms in on a very common trend in today's gnostic spiritual climate: pseudo-psychology and narcissistic self-justification.  Lucy is portrayed not as a common, everyday little girl caught up in a grand adventure whilst bearing a sinful nature in all its self-serving glory; instead, we are shown a misunderstood and overlooked young woman who idolizes her older sister and wishes beyond all hope for someone to notice the beauty in her.  Her problem, we're told, isn't jealousy as much as poor self-worth.  Now, the movie doesn't overlook, nor does it necessarily condone, her overwhelming desire for physical attention.  But it completely justifies it, violently wresting the narrative from the original author and psychoanalyzing it according to our enlightened age.  Of course Lucy is jealous and insecure, the movie instructs, how could she not?  She has a beautiful sister who is always noticed over her; she is passed by time and again.  She's a young, courageous, and spirited girl who can't seem to see the beauty inside herself.  Now, having acknowledged this as egregiously overstanding Lewis' original portrayal of his character, what can we learn from this?

Well, that when temptation hits, we're confronted, not by a tendency to hate God and neighbor (Q&A 5), but rather with a woefully inadequate sense of self.  What Lucy needed to defeat this temptation was better self-esteem.  The danger of this temptation wasn't violation of a good and holy law, but rather, to paraphrase the lion, losing herself!

Let's turn now to Edmund.  When confronted with temptation, we get two distinct views of his internal struggles.  Again, we're not faced with sin in all its wretched rebellion (Q&A 7).  Instead, we can hearken to the post-postmodern cry of American spirituality: Edmund is allowing himself to be defined, just like Lucy, by both his own inadequacies and his past.  Longing for his brother's approval, he confronts King Caspian and nearly starts a monarchical war over a treasured pool.  Whilst in the mist at "dark island" he is tempted by the White Witch and her siren's offer of power and authoritarian rule.  Edmund is both the brother who wants to be loved and revered, as well as the perpetrator who wants to put his past to rest.

Again, the mist that acts as a conduit for temptation does nothing more than bring out the psychological troubles the characters struggle with.  Of course, their negative responses in light of temptation, the movie kindly reminds us, isn't necessarily right, but we ought not take it out on the characters.  After all, they're just reacting to every hurt and pain they were subjected to all their lives.  We ought not judge, we're told, but rather sympathize.

Purpose-Driven Dragons

On now to Eustace.  Throughout the book, Eustace shows us something very few of us want to admit: as human beings, we are really all quite wretched.  When faced with a grand adventure, and sights unseen, Eustace criticizes, demeans, steals, undermines, and disrespects.  When confronted with loyalty, he mocks and derides.  When observing nobility and honor put into motion, he cowers and gibbers.  In short, he's what every single one of us is.  Eustace (as is Edmund in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe) is a very inconvenient mirror put before our eyes, forcing us to realize we are not good, as we think.  And when finally given a glimpse of wealth beyond all imagination, his dragon-ish mind and dragon-ish thoughts take on form: he becomes the dragon he already was inside.

And yet, this isn't how the movie portrays Eustace at all.  Instead, we see, during his duel with Reepicheep, a slight smile and pleased heart at the mouse's kind words.  The duel itself was inspired more by misunderstanding than by wretchedness.  To clarify: in the movie, Eustace, being a somewhat ignorant lout, decides to steal down into the ship's hold and have a snack.  Of course, not being acquainted with seafarers and the strict regulation of provisions, he acts primarily out of ignorance when he attempts to take more food than he deserves.  Reepicheep stops him with a firm scolding.  During this time, Eustace accidentally grabs his tail, a dire insult to the mouse, whose tail was given him by Aslan himself.  At this point, the duel breaks out, not as an attempt to regain honor, but as a period of instruction and discipleship.  At the end, Reepicheep's eyes twinkle as he promises to make a fighter out of Eustace yet.  And, momentarily, we see Eustace light-up at the mouse's kind words.

Now, our culture might struggle a bit with the concept of honor and its defense.  But, the difference between this scene and its two correspondences in the book are striking.  First: in the book, Eustace sneaks down into the hold to fetch himself more water, knowing the rules against stealing.  When he's caught, the King rightfully recalls everyone to the rule at sea: anyone caught stealing will be severely punished.  Of course, his reaction is the same as our own, when confronted unwillingly with our rebellion: Eustace harbors hatred and resentment in his heart.  His actions are not out of ignorance, but out of sheer self-interest and disregard for any rule but his own.

Moreover, the duel with Reepicheep is completely misunderstood.  In the book it takes place differently: Eustace spies the mouse sitting at the bow of the ship singing softly a lullaby to himself, and decides to have some "fun."  He grabs the mouse by the tail and swings him around several times.  Now, the narrative would likely agree with the movie writers that Eustace ultimately didn't realize what he was doing: but the question we must ask ourselves is why?  At the point in the book this happens, Eustace is well aware of Reepicheep's touchy sense of honor.  What's more, he's aware of the high-regard everyone on the ship has for Reepicheep, and how closely they guard his honor.  Reepicheep, while being mysterious, is by no means a mystery.  What Eustace doesn't, nay, can't understand, is honor itself.  To him, the mouse is nothing more than an oversized rat playing at being human-like.  He doesn't grasp that there is an fundamental understanding of the world which is different from his.  On top of this, the mouse reflects back to us everything Eustace is not.  So when he grabs his tail and swings him around, he is doing nothing more than lording himself over the smaller creature, blatantly spitting on his honor.

Moving on, we come to the dragon.  Ahh, the dragon.  What in the original narrative becomes a pivotal change in Eustace's understanding of his own wretched nature, the movie turns into a journey of self-discovery and affirmation.  Eustace falls prey to his own temptations, urged on at the siren's call of the green mist.  We aren't given much insight into the technicality of this transformation, but one moment Eustace is greedily feasting his eyes on riches beyond his wildest dreams, the next he is flying Edmund to a shelf of rock-encrusted lava where fiery words spell out his demise.

Eustace's transformation doesn't take him from being a dragon inside to being one outside.  Instead, we are told by the venerable Reepicheep, instead it is offering him the chance to fulfill a great destiny.  He has a grand purpose ahead of him, and this momentary affliction is just one more step on the road to living it out.  And, of course, we see this play out in the movie.  Eustace continues as a dragon until the climactic confrontation between the sailors of the Dawn Treader and the evil at "dark island."  Here we see Eustace battle a vile sea serpent, eventually bearing, in his flesh, the final sword which would disrupt the evil forces.  His transformation was not a curse, as it seemed, but a gift given with foreknowledge of a great and seemingly impossible task he was to undergo.

So now...let's see where I've seen these types of themes before...ahh yes:

"Your #history isn't your #destiny. "I've suffered so much Lord.Give me a NEW LIFE just as you promise." Psalm 119:107" -- Rick Warren

"We are all intentionally flawed to make us unique." -- Rick Warren

"Yesterday's failures have no place in your future. Your destiny is defined by what you DO...not what you DID." -- Steven Furtick

""You are not who people say you are. You are who God says you are. Nobody can stop your destiny." -- Joel Osteen

Hopefully you get the point.

Rather than being given a clear, unambiguous view of the wretched person he is, Eustace is, rather, pacified and affirmed that, though he might appear ugly, there is goodness waiting to burst forth from within.  Moreover, when this purpose is fulfilled, Aslan removes the covering from him, not by touching it (nothing so earthy in this tale), but by symbolically scratching it away in the sand.

Let's review the narrative a little, shall we?  In the book, Eustace indeed experiences a change of heart.  When confronted with the reality of who he is, we see a form of repentance and turning away.  Now, leaving aside the implication of the existence of some good underlying Eustace's wretched heart, what the author conveys by his return to human form is quite poignant.  Aslan appears and leads him to a pool.  In this pool, there is water for healing (he had borne a wound for some time, brought about by placing a gold armband on his upper arm which swelled greatly when he became a dragon), and he need only step into it to be soothed and healed.  And yet, in his current, dragonish form, he could not.  So Aslan instructs him to "undress" himself.  Eustace, realizing that as a great reptile he can, in essence, shed his skin, begins an undertaking of casting off sheets of his form.  And yet each time he removes a layer, another is there to trouble him.  This repeats time and again, eventually resulting in despair.  At this point, Aslan steps in and "undresses" him.  The lion digs deeper than Eustace could ever have imagined and literally peels the horrifying skin from Eustace's body.  And when he is done and the shell of the dragon had been cast off, Aslan throws Eustace into the water.  Eustace does not enter in himself, he is passively placed in the healing waters present for his renewal.

Okay, if this isn't bludgeoning you over the head with its salvific and sacramental imagery, I'm not sure what will.  So let me spell it out:

• Eustace is a sinner
• Eustace can do nothing to cease being a sinner
• Eustace can do nothing to heal himself as a sinner
• Eustace must rely fully on the providence of Christ to cleanse him from his sin
• Eustace is washed and renewed passively in the waters of baptism

The imagery in the novel simply can't be much clearer than that.  Again, disregarding the missing components (Christ's active and passive obedience, the Holy Spirit's work of regeneration, etc.), the movie simply misses the significance of this scene, opting instead for the cheap, high-caloric, narcissistic spirituality which the American churches have guzzled down.

Conclusion

So where do we go from here?  I've complained enough about this movie and its pop-psychological interpretative violence, its purpose-driven presentation of sin, and the abysmal overstanding it has assumed.  All I can think of is to leave with the 23rd article of the Belgic Confession:

We believe that our blessedness lies in the forgiveness of our sins because of Jesus Christ, and that in it our righteousness before God is contained, as David and Paul teach us when they declare that man blessed to whom God grants righteousness apart from works.

And the same apostle says that we are justified "freely" or "by grace" through redemption in Jesus Christ. And therefore we cling to this foundation, which is firm forever, giving all glory to God, humbling ourselves, and recognizing ourselves as we are; not claiming a thing for ourselves or our merits and leaning and resting on the sole obedience of Christ crucified, which is ours when we believe in him.

That is enough to cover all our sins and to make us confident, freeing the conscience from the fear, dread, and terror of God's approach, without doing what our first father, Adam, did, who trembled as he tried to cover himself with fig leaves.

In fact, if we had to appear before God relying-- no matter how little-- on ourselves or some other creature, then, alas, we would be swallowed up.

Therefore everyone must say with David: "Lord, do not enter into judgment with your servants, for before you no living person shall be justified."

Meredith Kline's, Kingdom Prologue

My pastor recently gave me a copy of a book by Meredith Kline, Kingdom Prologue.  It discusses the book of Genesis, unpacking much of the covenant imagery replete throughout this book, as well as the rest of Scripture.  Here are my (slightly edited) thoughts I sent to him regarding the book.  I thought they might make for an interesting blog post:

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To start off, I was really struck by the depth in which Kline is able to capture covenant imagery, and help convey the deeper meanings behind Genesis.  So often, I've read through Genesis with barely a cursory glance to certain phrases such as, "in that time people began to call upon the name of the Lord."  These words don't have near as much impact until you have someone with the historical background and training to unpack the meaning which, in the context written, would have been better understood.

His imagery of the Holy Spirit and His work conveying God's Presence and accompanying the Angel of the Lord was also pretty striking.  As I've been reading through Isaiah, I'm struck more and more by the times I've read the images of the pillars of fire and cloud, and how they directly link to the presence of the Holy Spirit.  I've read before that the Holy Spirit and His work is often overlooked by the church, and given my non-pentecostal, evangelical upbringing, I think this is certainly true in the Christian circles where I was raised.  The poignant way Kline is able to center creation as a whole around the Triune God is really quite refreshing, and brings very exciting context to the book of Genesis.  It also brings together the presence of fire and cloud which is replete throughout the history of the Church in a way I hadn't appreciated.

Those insights which further unify Scripture into a cohesive whole revolving around the work of the Triune God are really quite excellent.

There were also insights into the nature of the fall which seemed very reminiscent of Calvin's commentaries on Genesis.  One thing I've really appreciated from reading Calvin is his strict adherence to the text and his ability to unpack certain details so they better make sense.  His exposition of the circumstances in Jacob's mixed household was very helpful when my wife and I were reading Genesis 2 years ago (as you've said before, it's so easy to gloss over the truly terrible circumstances brought about by our sinful spiritual forefathers).  Kline's descriptions of Adam and Eve's sin, and the consequences therein had a similar feel, I think.

(On a brief side note, I also appreciated his flexibility in the Genesis timeline, while still remaining faithful to the historic text.  A few of my favorite Christian think-tanks can't quite seem to do this, and tend to associate any deviation from the 6,000 year old, scientific interpretation of Genesis 1 as not taking the creation account seriously.  It's a terrible (and sometimes intentional, I think) misunderstanding, and I think Kline handles the situation with some delicacy.)

There were a few things which I struggled to fully wrap my mind around, and I know a few more readings (after Vanhoozer, of course) will help.  One was his use of the words "Megapolis" and "Metapolis."  Unfortunately, both of the prefixes have connotations in my techie-brain which make it hard to context-switch.  Meta- (in my world) typically refers to a type of concept abstracted from another concept.  This is commonly found in words like "metadata" or "metacharacters" come up.  Metadata is, literally, "data about data."  Metapolis doesn't quite feel like an abstracted concept, per se, since it refers to the final culmination of the City of God, fully recreated and consummated by His perfect work.  Of course Kline points out that the final goal for the first Adam was this very achievement, and thus it is only by the Second Adam that it will be brought about.  I think the wording is perhaps difficult for a techie-geek like myself :)

The imagery regarding the Holy Spirit, particularly the Glory-Cloud as the Glory-Spirit and his exposition proceeding from it will take a few more reads as well.  I really liked, however, that Kline helps explain the concept of being created in God's image.  So many teachers are distorting this idea by either implying or directly stating that we have "seeds of the divine" seated within our human selves.  Kline's explanation seems to fit more cohesively with Scripture, and avoids the panentheistic overtones.

The last major theme I really appreciated was that of creation and re-creation, of Eden produced and reproduced (albeit in a redemptive motif).  It's amazing to me that I could spend 30 years of my life in church and never been shown some of the connections between the Garden, Canaan, and Christ.  To have the Garden scenario laid out so clearly, and then linked consistently to the introduction of God's people into a "land flowing with milk and honey" is pretty amazing.  It's incredible to see the parallels between them: God's provision of a "paradise" which would be His Kingdom-Temple.  God's introduction of a Holy people into said paradise -- a people of prophets, priests, and kings, to bear His Word and protect the Temple from evil (even cast it out).  Of the terms imposed by a just and sovereign God: obey and be blessed, disobey and be cursed.  The people's self-subjugation to the Serpent and the resulting diaspora from God's presence.  And THEN, to see this played out again by Christ, our Second Adam, our perfect Prophet/Priest/King Who IS God's Holy Temple, and to see the story finally go the way it should, because God's own Son has descended from His glory to redeem His lost Bride...man!  What an exciting redemptive history God has wrought!

This book has helped connect many dots which were left over from my time reading Berkhof, Vos, and Horton

Righteousness...What's Missing?

I was thinking about something yesterday, sent it to my sister, and thought it might make a good blog post.  It's probably going to be long, but that's because I'm pompous, long-winded, and extremely tiresome.

Over the past several years, I've begun to realize how Christ's life has been so obvious overlooked in the evangelical church.  I never learned about His life unless it was within the context of moralism and how I should try to live a good and godly life.  His 40 days of temptation in the wilderness was a time to see an example of standing up against temptation, and His words to the Pharisees were to give us a true understanding of how God wants us to live.

In other words, Christ's death and resurrection were a gift; His life, however, was an example for us all to follow and imitate: Christ died for our sins, yes, but it's up to use to live the life of righteousness He typified for us.

Without using a bunch of big words/concepts, which I really tend to do, here's the problem: God deserves two things:

1. A life of perfect obedience.  A single iota of disobedience merits an eternity of punishment.  No amount of suffering will make our transgression go away.  I need to be punished for my sin, and my inability to atone is reflected in the fact that such punishment is eternal.
2. A life of pure obedience.  It's not enough to be obedient.  In fact, obedience should be founded upon a life of perfect and abject love for God.  Righteousness isn't earned by simply not doing what's wrong; it's earned by doing exactly what is right.  In Mark 12, Jesus shows us what the crux of such righteousness is: it's 100% perfect love of the Lord in all things.  Without this, we cannot be declared righteous, and thus cannot inherit the Kingdom of God.

So here's the question I was pondering while cleaning bathrooms the other morning (my wife is a slave-driver): what does it mean that Jesus fulfilled all righteousness?

That question, I think, is what's wrong with the evangelical church.  They get the first thing God deserves very well (they are Christians, after all), but don't seem to understand the second at all.

We're sinners in the sight of an angry God, and He has every right (and to fulfill His justice, He is obligated) to condemn and punish our sin.  Christ died so that this punishment would be meted out upon Himself, rather than upon His people (or the world, if you're evangelical or Lutheran).  But the evangelical church seems to stop there, and the resulting message usually sounds something like this:

1. Christ died so you might have eternal life.
2. Once you are saved, you are now enabled by the Holy Spirit to do righteous works.
3. Righteous works are evidence of your faith.
4. Therefore, the more righteous works you show, the better you can take comfort in your faith.
5. Moreover, the Bible commands us to be righteous, and therefore, if we are to be godly Christians, our efforts should be constantly straining toward this goal.  If we fall, we didn't try hard enough, or have enough faith to inspire us.

Unfortunately, this isn't the entire story.  It's half of the story, and when we miss the other half, I think we will either be driven to cynically give up (which was my response) or to despair (which I've seen in many others).

Reconciling us to God isn't just dealing with our punishment, though I certainly don't want to minimize Christ's atoning and propitiating death.  But even if God's wrath for disobedience is appeased, He still deserves and demands perfect hearts in obedience.  Not only does He deserve perfect obedience, but He also deserves perfect glory and honor from His people, at all times.

Anyway, here's where the Reformers, I think, better understood Christ's life than we do today:

1. Christ lived a perfect life so that, in doing so, He would merit the righteousness which comes from a perfect heart lived perfectly before the Lord.
2. He honored and glorified God in all ways, in all things, and without reservation.
3. His works were perfect in intention, motive, and result.
4. In the wilderness, He withstood temptation and expelled Satan from His presence (as Adam, Israel, and we fail utterly to do).
5. In Christ, God is, therefore, afforded the perfect honor and glory He justly deserves.
6. Christ was crucified and punished to atone for our sins.  He died the death we deserve, giving to God the perfect sacrifice which is sufficient for the enormity of our sin.

Therefore, when we talk about our "works" as Christians, I think we need to be careful with how we define them:

1. Our lives, when lived through the power of the Holy Spirit, are not lived to afford God the righteousness His perfect nature requires.  Christ accomplished this fully and completely, and we can add absolutely nothing to it.
2. Our lives, when lived through the power of the Holy Spirit, are not lived to make God more pleased with us based on our climbing a ladder of achieved holiness.  Because of Christ, through faith, God looks upon His righteousness and has appeased His wrath for our sin.
3. Our lives, therefore, when lived through the power of the Holy Spirit, and when we are continually reminded what Christ has accomplished, can be lived as a thanksgiving offering to the Lord; in our work, we are saying thank you to the Lord for Christ not only taking our punishment, but also earning and giving to us the righteousness which is required by Holy God.

This is why I get so skeptical when I hear people talk about works.  They tend to sound something like this:

1. Yeah, Christ died for you
2. Yeah, you're saved
3. But you need the works to back it up and live the life God wants from you
4. But (just to cover our bases), you can't do it yourself, which is where the Holy Spirit comes in
5. It's You and God, workin' together, defeatin' the sin in your life

Rather than,

1. Christ lived for you
2. Christ died for you
3. In Christ, you are saved
4. In Christ, God is fully appeased
5. You are given the Holy Spirit as a promise and seal of what's to come
6. Your life, therefore, will be lived out of thanksgiving for the perfect and completed work of Christ
7. Nothing you do can add/contribute to or take away from Christ's perfect work
8. Therefore, what you need to hear regularly is Law and Gospel

Christ actively lived the Law for us.  He obeyed God perfectly, all the while affording to Him the honor He so justly deserves.  He then passively was crucified for our sins, transgressions which were not committed by Him.

This is what was called the Active and Passive Obedience of Christ, and, without understanding it, we'll never really know what it meant for Christ to fulfill all righteousness.

The Holy Church of Self-Expression

A thought struck me today, which seemed like a decent topic to write about.  I listened at work to this outstanding discussion about modern praise music for the 2nd time, and was discussing some of the premises with my wife after dinner, when this topic came up.

To keep it short, here's a brief synopsis of the podcast from Issues ETC.:

• Modern praise music often suffers from several issues
• Mysticism
• Vague or absent doctrine/theology wrapped in poeticism
• Trends toward a Theology of Glory

In the discussion, 3 popular songs were analyzed for their content, and, generally speaking, found lacking.  Of course, it wouldn't have been a terribly interesting conversation if the songs delivered a faithful, confessional view of Law and Gospel.

But while talking with my wife, it struck me how difficult it was to get the concept across.  I don't totally grasp (or agree with) every point they were making about the songs, but my general understanding of their purpose was something like this:

Church worship should, as the rest of the service, be purposed to direct the congregation to the pouring out of God's grace.  And since we cannot receive such grace except through the Mediatorship of Christ, by the power of the Holy Spirit, because of His life, death, and resurrection, our worship should make this clear.  We need Law and Gospel to understand who we are and what God has done, and this should be present in the liturgy which includes the sermon, confession, absolution, and singing of songs.

This is, of course, my summation, which is likely a poor one :)

Anyway, back to my discussion.  When talking with my wife, it hit me how hands-off worship tends to be.  Even in my own mind, I find arguments like these cropping up:

• Worship is the expression of worth and value on our behalf to God -- why should we box it in?
• Isn't it legalistic to require whole sentences in a song?
• Aren't you suppressing individuals when you try to force a particular brand of worship?
• Sure the songs aren't entirely clear (or accurate), but we know what the author is trying to say.  Isn't that enough?

Simply by posting these questions, my responses to them should be obvious.  But it leads me to a whole other question: why is worship considered to be a hands-off part of the service??

In many churches I've attended, the sermon was typically held to a high standard.  If the pastor deviated from sound exegetical teaching, he would be accountable.  Most of the church conformed to this pattern: teachers were accountable for what/how they taught; deacons were accountable with how they administrated various ministries; the elders were accountable with how they oversaw the church as a whole.

Nowhere do I remember a clear and strong accountability for the words of songs which were sung on a Sunday morning.  It seemed that, once you became involved in the Sunday morning music, you're forbidden from even calling into question a song's veracity or clarity.  It's music!  Why would you call into question someone else's self-expression??

Which leads me to the title of this blog post.  My sense is, more and more, that we've created a new Means of Grace, which goes beyond the worship time itself (which I don't believe is a Biblically-defined MoG, by the way): self-expression.

Of course, all evidence for this will be anecdotal, so take this with a grain of salt :)

I remember attending a service in a town about 40 miles away.  The church is HUGE (considering my current church has fewer than 100 regular people in it) and is pretty typical of modern, evangelical churches.  They had the standard features you would expect from an independent church: a jammin' praise band; a young, dynamic teaching pastor; verses on several screens in case you didn't bring your Bible; stadium-seating; message-based teaching, centering Scripture around a theme; etc.

At one point during the extended time of singing, the music ended and the congregation sat down.  We were then treated to a very interesting (and well-done) performance by a few people: it was a combination of rock, spoken poetry, and rap.  I don't recall the underlying message, but I remember how it was presented to the congregation: the words were written by the main performer (the rapper, I guess) at a time when he had been struggling and having a difficult time.  He wanted to share it with the church, and so they hoped it would equally bless us all.

And of course, the assumption was that it would.  By listening and soaking in this individual's experience (via his own words), God would speak to my heart and I could experience Him in a fresh way.  Here was a new Means of Grace!  I could experience God in a whole new, intimate way, simply by observing a few select individuals dancing around and expressing words which had nothing to do with my life, my experiences, or Law and Gospel!

Of course, being rap, the moment was pretty lost on me.

Over the past 20 years of my life, I've observed similar trends in non-denominational churches:

• Dance routines (often by the Pastor's daughter, who happens to be a skilled ballerina)
• Rap or poetry sessions
• Drama teams
• Non-Scriptural Book Readings
• Stand-up and give us a word from God if you're so inspired" moments
• Sign-language (in churches where it's clear no deaf people are in attendance)

I'm not criticizing these things in general, but I'm certainly intrigued by the fact that they are becoming so common in the church service.  Not only are we deluged by distractions and silliness (see my Easter post if you want to observe abject absurdity), but we're also told to sit and observe people engaging in their own form of personal expression.  And in doing so, hopefully we will be blessed, will encounter/understand/relate/whatever God in a whole new way.

Self-expression is, I fear, steadily becoming an epicenter around which to focus the church service around.  No longer are we gathering together as Christ's Body; no longer are we communing as the saints; no longer are we functioning for the greater good.  Instead, we are fed a steady diet of what's best for you?? and how do YOU worship God??

In a way, we've created an interesting situation: in this environment, we cannot easily argue against doctrinal or theological issues when dealing with personal expression.  After all, doesn't the Holy Spirit lead and speak differently to each person?  Everything I understand and express is a product of my experiences and personal situation, and no one can argue about my internal state, which they've not seen!

Of course, I call BS, but no one is asking :)

Remember Willow Creek's solution to the disillusionment of their congregation?  Rather than pull back and understand why people felt like they were spiritually stunted, they decided people need to be "self feeders."  Regardless of their intent, notice the focus: self feeders.  Yes, we need to be able to read God's Word on our own; yes, we need to be in daily prayer and confession; yes, we who are saved are each God's children and thus can approach Him as "Abba, Father!"  I'm not denying the need for personal action in the life of a Christian.

But is this what we need from the church as a primary purpose?  When did the Church's responsibility trend away from Word and Sacrament, and instead directing people to both feed themselves and force their personal expression upon the entirety of the Body?

When we turn the self into the primary recipient of a Sunday morning service, it's easy to see where the slip occurs.  Rather than looking upon the congregation as the Body of Christ, we see it as a disparate collection of Body parts.  No longer unified, and thus needing consistent nourishment (*ahem!* Law and Gospel), we are instead tailoring our services to allow any given organ equal opportunity to spout off on what it's like to be them in their particular position.  Moreover, since we're not allowed to argue with an individual's experience, we really should allow them to express themselves however they see fit.

Personally, I'll take objective Word and Sacrament any day.

Sanderson and the Wheel of Time

So I finished The Towers of Midnight which is the 13th book in the Wheel of Time series.  It took me a while to get around to reading The Gathering Storm, though I had been in dreadful anticipation of it since I heard Brandon Sanderson would be taking over the series.  When I finally picked the 12th book up, it was after reading the entire series over again -- probably the 10th time I had done so.

The question I think most WoT fans were asking themselves (when confronted with Jordan's death and the announcement of Sanderson's completion of the WoT series) was something along these lines: who on earth is this guy and how on earth could he ever fill Jordan's shoes??

That was my question, anyway.  So I started on a journey.

I read Elantris a few years ago, and wasn't terribly impressed.  I was struck by some of the more innovative concepts (Jordan's system of magic was nice and consistent with the world he created, and the evil priest system was very intriguing), but a little put off by some of the more juvenile elements: many words appeared to be made up for no reason.  Words like gyorn were used to denote a concept or position which didn't differ from standard stereotypes.  As a result, much of the writing felt a bit muddled and didn't flow very well from start to finish.

Of course, this was his first novel, and his story was very well done.  So, I decided to check out the Mistborn Trillogy.  After all, this was the series which he was best known for.

I cannot describe how awestruck I was after reading through the first Mistborn novel.  From start to finish, Sanderson created a world which felt both tangible and incredible.  His characters developed in a consistent fashion, and moved toward their literary destinies in a plausible fashion.  The overarching plot was fantastic, and his magical system (Allomancy, Feruchemy, and Hemalurgy) was complex and yet accessible.  The fight scened were epic and the relationships between characters were solid.

In all, it was one of the most wonderful literary experiences I've had in a long time.  And the following two books did not disappoint.  Though the ending of the third novel was a bit different than I had expected, in hindsight, Sanderson drove each character to their conclusion with a narrow line: I don't believe it could have ended any other way.

After this, I was completely won over: if anyone could bring the Wheel of Time to a conclusion, it would be him.

Having just completed The Towers... in record time (for me), I have to say, Sanderson does not disappoint.

It's hard to imagine what the series would look like if Jordan had lived to complete it.  I'm certain Sanderson would have preferred it that way, but in lieu of the circumstances, I don't think a better author could have been picked.

One area where Sanderson shines is this: character introspection and motivation.  Throughout the Mistborn trilogy, we are consistently given insight into why the characters act and do what they do.  We read their thoughts; we see their responses to their circumstances; we watch them interact with each other as they grow and develop.  Though the books aren't perfect, the lasting impression of the trilogy is one of complete understanding: we are never left guessing why a character acted the way they did.

This is something Sanderson brings to the table in the WoT.  From book 7 or 8 (I'm not sure which), there is a steady decline in the series regarding character motivation.  Much happens in the series, but it often felt like I didn't understand why.  People behaved in certain ways, but it felt more and more like I knew them less and less.

Don't get me wrong: I'm not criticizing Jordan's writing, and I certainly don't want to exaggerate.  It's not that there isn't any introspection in the last 5 books; it just feels like the characters are murkier.  Sanderson's writing, in addition to completing so many story arcs, shines a piercing light into the characters hearts and minds, bursting them open for us to comprehend (and thus relate).

I don't want to give away any plot points to the latest 2 books in the series, but let me just say this: if you've been hesitant to read through them because they aren't (sadly) written by the original author, please go out and buy them tonight.  These two books have held some of the best moments in the WoT, and have been a brilliant light shining amidst a genre packed with drivel and meaningless fluff.  Yes, Sanderson's writing is a bit different from Jordan's.  Yes, he's completing his work, and thus the plot developments aren't strictly his own.  But his devotion to the series, as well as the strength of his characterization, make these 2 books absolutely solid contributions to the Wheel of Time.

Easter and the Age-Old System of Bribing People to Come to Church

I stumbled across this on Kotaku, and frankly, it really cracked me up.

For those of you who are too lazy to watch the whole video, here's my synopsis:

1. Not everyone wants to go to church
2. Pastors want people to come to church
3. Modern wisdom says, more people at a church is a clear indicator of their success
4. Therefore, offer whatever you need to so you can get butts in the seats
1. 3D Televisions
2. Nintendo 3DS
3. 3D movie packages
5. Finally, the media will love you because you're doing something odd and they can generate a mild stir with such "out-of-the-box thinking"

Frankly, I don't know what to be more offended at.  As a Christian, I find such crass and unflinching bribery to be offensive (at best) and deceitful (at worst).  As a consumer who is wholly devoted to seeing the death of 3D, the gadgets appear to be nothing more than a Hollywood-inspired ploy to market a product which has no true value other than generating hype and increasing ticket sales.

Thankfully, when Christ rose again, the definition in which He did was sharper than 1080p, the sound of His voice had greater clarity than THX, and His appearance was far more realistic than the purist 3D effects:

For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. Then he appeared to more than five hundred brothers at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have fallen asleep. Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles. Last of all, as to one untimely born, he appeared also to me.
                                                             -1 Corinthians 15:3-8

Praise God, Christ has risen indeed!!

Happy Easter!

The PCA and...horrors!! Old Earth Creationism

In my mindless meanderings today, I found these this interesting article from Modern Reformation:  PCA Geologists and the Antiquity of the Earth

Basically, the PCA (Presbyterian Church of America) decided in 1998 to commission a study to determine if an Old-Earth interpretation was at least reasonable. The study wasn't conclusive (the committee didn't make a solid recommendation one way or another), but their results were very fair to the O-Earthers.

And of course, sigh, here is a response from a prominent Young-Earth group: Long-age Geology or Genesis?

Just for fun, let's contrast these very edited, severely biased (my own) quotes:

From the first article:

"Clearly there are committed, Reformed believers who are scientists that are on either side of the issue regarding the age of the cosmos...Covenant children who are raised with the impression that a young earth is integral to Christianity have their faith needlessly undermined when they are later confronted with the overwhelming evidence of the earth's antiquity, and many leave the faith. It is our prayer that no Christian would be such an obstacle!"

And from the other, oh-so-loving YE article:

"The battle over the integrity of Genesis continues. In a recent article, eight geologists, including long-time anti-creationist Davis Young, attempt to persuade the Presbyterian Church in America (PCA) that secular natural history must guide, even determine, interpretation of the biblical text, even in the face of a clear contrary meaning....Given the clear effects of evolution and secular natural history on generations of Western youth (see Inside the mind of a killer), it is literally astounding that Christians could believe such a wild distortion of reality. (See Darwin’s impact) Especially when atheopaths like Richard Dawkins, Jacques Monod and T.H. Huxley had utter contempt for Christians pretending that evolution was compatible with biblical Christianity, as documented in the hyperlinked articles."

Anyway, let's play a game: can you spot the logical fallacies in the latter response? Let's see...

• guilt by association
• ad hominem attack
• begging the question
• straw man argument
• possibly a dash of non sequitur

I'll stop there :^)

Ahh, it's so fun to see loving, balanced debate isn't it?? :)