My First Lent:Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Tradition

As most of you are aware, I’m not actually a Baptist anymore, but I’m too committed to the branding at this point. Plus “The Contrarian Episcopalian” is kind of redundant.

I did, however, spend the first 30 years of my life in that branch of Christendom, and one of its hallmarks is the (nominal, if not always literal) absence of most “Tradition” and the accompanying practices.

No corporate prayer. No corporate confession of sin. Extremely rare Communion.

And no Lent.

So now that I find myself not only attending but actually on staff at an Episcopalian church, I am constantly overwhelmed by the sheer tidal force of Tradition. There has certainly been a learning curve, but every week I’m getting more comfortable with how things run.

That’s certainly not to say that I have fully embraced everything Episcopalian. I still only invoke the sign of the cross some of the time. I don’t bow at the Gospel procession or when approaching the altar. I’m not fully on-board with their Eucharistic theologies, and I have absolutely no opinion on infant baptism.

But Lent is something I’ve decided to dive into for a couple of reasons.

Lent is Biblical

Reformed Twitter is apparently up in arms this time of year over how Lent is not only non-Biblical, but is in fact ANTI-Biblical, somehow.

That certainly wasn’t my attitude toward it as a Baptist; it was just something other Christians did that we didn’t do, like receiving Communion more than twice a decade.

That argument also is nonsensical as Lent is firmly rooted in a particular Biblical event: Christ in the wilderness.

Jesus spent 40 days (which was either a literal 40 days or a code for “a long time”) fasting in the desert at the outset of His ministry (see Matt. 4).

Aside from that, the Bible is literally brimming with stories of fasting, from the Old Testament all the way through Jesus and Paul.

I agree to some extent with a few of the critics. Per Jesus’ command, fasting is supposed to be a rather private affair and not a big spectacle. I’m not really telling many people what I’m fasting from during this Lent.

Conversely, as with so much that I’ve learned since joining the Episcopal church, this life is so much more vibrant, fulfilling, and life-giving when it’s done in community. Joining millions of Christians in a communal fast and time of reflection sounds absolutely fantastic and absolutely Biblical.

Time to Reflect

This past Sunday was the celebration of the Transfiguration, where Christ’s glory was revealed in full on the mountaintop to Peter, James, and John (see Luke 9).

As I was teaching the Sunday school lesson, I was struck with a realization of Peter’s folly, not just in this story but in his story as a whole.

Peter was legendarily impulsive. He leaped out of the boat the second he saw Jesus walking on the water. He was quick to speak and slow to listen, usually resulting in him missing the point.

That happens in this story as well. Upon seeing Jesus in glory with Moses and Elijah, he asks if he can build tents (or altars or temples) for the three. The Bible even notes that he didn’t know what he was saying.

Contrast this with Paul’s experience of seeing Christ’s glory. After Christ appeared to him on the road, he was overcome with zealousness, and it didn’t exactly bring the results he was hoping.

So he stopped and took time to reflect.

Ten years, in fact.

For ten years he stayed in his hometown of Tarsus. NT Wright’s fantastic biography of Paul shows that even though we don’t know what happened during this “silent” period, it clearly was a significant step in Paul’s journey.

When he reemerged, he was still zealous, but he had a much better grasp of who Christ was, what the Church should look like, and generally how to effectively spread the Good News.

He even corrected Peter on more than one occasion.

This is why I think observing Lent is a profitable endeavor for any Christian. I know that God has done a tremendous amount in my life over the last year, and I have been so busy living that I haven’t stopped to reflect and regroup.

My hope is that the next 40 days will give me time to process the latest steps in my journey and come out the other side refreshed and renewed. I encourage you to take a fresh look at this ancient practice and see if you could benefit from it as well.

A Depression Observed: My Hardest Battle, One Year On

This will be long; sorry.  I will also say up front that I will openly discuss depression, mental health, and suicide.  

Intro

This post is going to be deeply personal.  Throughout my battle with depression, I’ve repeatedly learned that people don’t talk about it.

Equally, they greatly prefer that you not talk about it either.

This is especially true in the church.  I don’t care to count the number of pastors, elders, and other leaders that have told me all my problems were in my head, or were simply because I wasn’t close enough to God, or could be fixed by just being more obedient.

These attitudes are dangerous.  They certainly are not healthy.

I’m convinced that one of the reasons I’m still here (read: alive) is to share my story, to try and stop these dangerous attitudes from harming other people.

That Day

On August 14, 2017, my entire life changed.

I lost my job.

“Well that doesn’t sound so bad. Lots of people lose their jobs!”

That’s true, but for me at that time, I allowed my entire identity to be consumed and defined by my job.

I knew what I wanted to be when I as 8.  I worked like a madman in college with a single goal in mind.  I never doubted that law school was where I was meant to go.

Sure, by that day last August, I was a husband, father, son, brother, Christian, Braves fan, Magic: the Gathering aficionado.

But none of those things were my identity.  I was a lawyer first and foremost, and I was proud.

So when I learned at 2:26 pm that I would no longer be employed at my firm, my entire identity shattered.

After taking a couple of hours to process the news and to think about my future, I reached a single, inescapable conclusion.

Without my identity, I was useless, valueless.  I would never be able to provide for my family, to take care of my two-and-a-half-month-old daughter.

I was ready to die.  I came up with a plan.  I knew where and how it would happen.  I didn’t tell anyone, didn’t give anyone an opportunity to talk me out of it.

I stopped by my house to hold my baby one last time.  Something in my head told me that this would break her, but that voice was drowned out by the voice reminding me that I had already failed her.  It was better for her that I not be around.

So I held her.  And held her.

And everything…changed.

A Long, Festering War

Depression was not a new companion in my life.  I first realized I was depressed in law school, which (depressingly) is exceedingly normal.

I finished my first semester in the top 10% of my class.  I was called for a dozen interviews with huge law firms promising lavish salaries and substantial benefits.

None of them hired me.

During my second semester, I became sick.  Very sick.  I was sick for 79 days, completely obliterating the middle and tail-end of the semester.  I couldn’t keep up with the classwork, and it’s a minor miracle that I passed all of my classes.

Nonetheless, the damage was done.  My GPA was now ~30th percent, and I stopped even getting interviews.

I stopped trying to keep up with my friends.  I put zero work into my fledgling marriage.  I retreated into video games and rum.

During my second year I finally realized what was happening: I was depressed.  I saw a doctor, and I very slowly got better.

The end of law school did not provide any respite.  Despite rebounding my GPA and building a good resume, I had no job offers.  I passed the Bar and went to work for Barnes & Noble.

I was a minimum-wage bookseller with a license to practice law.  But at least we were back home, and our support network was better.

Eventually I did find a job as an attorney, and it was great.  The hours were long, but the work was challenging and engaging, if not always profitable.

I had my depression under control, and I was happy.

That Day, cont’d 

I’m not going to say my daughter saved my life.

For one, it would give her an absurdly huge head later in life, and it’s already impossible for her to wear hats.

It also isn’t accurate.  It was God that pulled me back, the almighty Creator of the universe who broke down my obstinate wall and said, “This unfailing, unconditional love you feel for her is how I feel for you.”

That small voice I so clearly heard in the minutes I spent holding my baby gave me the strength and the motivation to tell someone what I was feeling.

I called my friend, and he wouldn’t let me hang up the phone until I got to his house, where he listened to me and gave me space to feel my feelings.

I talked to my wife, and she held me and supported me, like she always has.

I talked to my mom, my dad, other friends.  One after another they comforted me and brought me out of the worst of the funk.

It was three months before I found another job.  Those months were seemingly endless.

They did, however, end.

My Reclaimed Identity 

In the year since that day, I have reclaimed my identity.  I’m still a lawyer.

But now, I’m a Christian, husband, father, son, brother, and friend before I’m a lawyer.

I used to have a band.  One of my favorite songs we did was a cover of “You Found Me” by The Fray.  The singer finds God on a street corner and essentially vents all of his frustration at God’s seeming absence.

“Where were You when everything was falling apart? All my days spent by a telephone that never rang, when all I needed was a call.  Lost and insecure, you found me, lying on the floor surrounded.  Why’d you have to wait?  Where were you?  Just a little late.”

Psalm 88 reflects a similar stance toward God:

“For my life is full of troubles, and death draws near. I am forgotten, cut off from your care.  Each day I beg for your help, O Lord, I lift my hands to you for mercy.  O Lord, I cry out to you.  I will keep on pleading day by day.  O Lord, why do you reject me?  Why do you turn your face from me?  You have taken away my companions and loved ones.

Darkness is my closest friend.”

If someone wants to know what battling depression is like, Psalm 88 is a great place to start.

What I have spent the last year discovering is my identity as a child of God.  I have been that Psalmist for so much of my life, and yet only now, in the midst of my darkest trial, have I learned to truly see God.

Ho Theos Agape Estin 

The God, Love Is.

Like Yoda delivering the greatest news of all time, 1 John 4 finally, definitively shows us God’s heart, his DNA.

God

Is

Love.

Before time, before creation, before God could be Holy or Sovereign, God existed as love.

That love led to Him giving us a free choice to love Him in return.  When we failed to live up to that calling and brought the corruption of sin into the wold, God loved us so much and so perfectly that He

became one of us.

He stepped straight into our pain, our brokenness, our selfishness, our anger, our sadness, our temptation, and our depression.

He took all of our iniquities and failures and shortcomings and willing sins onto Himself, and He willingly and lovingly bore their greatest consequence: death.

But death could not stop Him.  He rose, and He gives us hope that we will rise with Him.

I’ve studied a lot about the atonement (what Jesus’ death on the cross mechanically accomplished), and the best statement I’ve found so far is from Michael Gorman in his book The Death of the Messiah and the Birth of the New Covenant.  

He says we should not focus on the “what” of Jesus’ death, but rather what affect the totality of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection had on those who believe.

He calls it “hopeful participation.”  Our hope lies in the resurrected Christ, in the promise of continued, renewed life by and through Him.  We are called not just to look toward some far off Heaven where we will escape the world and all its ills.

We are called to live that renewed life now.

Paul often talks about salvation as a completed action.  We are already renewed creatures equipped with the Holy Spirit.

So we must act like it.

“Do not conform to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”  Romans 12:2.

The world is full of pain, violence, and death.  The living God promises us comfort, joy, and life.

Even when the depression is greatest, when darkness is encircling,

God is with us.

 

Jesus Was Not Abandoned: Psalm 22 and Good Friday

*Editor’s Note: I realize I may have caused confusion with my last post by linking to articles naming certain people “heretics.”  My point was absolutely not to label anyone as a heretic; my point was to expound on what I talked about in my first two posts, namely that modern Christians are very quick to use the “H” word to describe people who simply disagree with them.  It is dangerous and frankly absurd to call someone a heretic when they walk in Orthodox Christianity but have different beliefs on certain issues.  I link to these articles as satire, pointing out the absurdity of the heretic label in modern use and how it is applied to people of all beliefs, sides, and doctrinal stances.*

Today is Good Friday.

Today we remember the denouement of history, the day when all the plot threads were drawn together in a miraculous, triumphant climax, leading to the plot twist that changed everything.

Everyone dies.  Only One brought Himself back.

But that’s not the point of this post; millions of pastors, teachers, and bloggers will teach on the cross and the resurrection over the next couple of days.  I want to focus on one teaching that has been pervasive in my Baptist upbringing and why I believe we can (and must) do better.

My God, My God, Why Have You Forsaken Me? 

I have been taught (even as recently a few weeks ago) that God “turned His face away” from Jesus as He died on the cross.  This is reflected in a multitude of songs like “How Deep the Father’s Love for Us”, and the teachings of many pastors, including Billy Graham (who was a heretic) and John Piper (who is a heretic).

The traditional teaching is that God is so holy He cannot even look upon sin, and He certainly cannot be in the presence of sin.  Therefore, if Jesus “became” sin upon the cross, God had to abandon Jesus.

One writer stated that the only way God could accept Jesus’ sacrifice on our behalf was to “turn His back on” Jesus.

Where does this idea come from?

In Mark 15:34 (and Matthew 27:46), Jesus cries out while He is on the cross, saying “My God, my God, why have You forsaken Me?”

John Piper (who is seriously a heretic) recognized that this is a direct quote of the first verse of Psalm 22.  Piper further recognized that this chapter acts as a “script” for Jesus’ death, showing how He was mocked (v. 7), His hands and feet were pierced (v. 16) and the soldiers cast lots to divide His garments (v. 18).

Piper even notes the ending of Psalm 22, which shows the “celebration” of victory that came through Jesus’ death.

However, just like so many teachers I have heard preach on this issue, Piper does not address v. 24, which I believe is the key to understanding the whole chapter and the meaning of Jesus’ quotation while he was on the cross.

God Does Not Hide His Face

For my money, Psalm 22 is one of the single most beautiful passages in all of Scripture for a number of reasons.

Even without looking at the Psalm in light of Jesus, David tracks the pain of the human condition throughout the first part of the Psalm.  He feels abandoned, and he is crying out to God demanding to know why God has left him in this condition.

This is the pain of Job.  The pain of Israel.  My pain.

I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint.  My heart is like wax melted in my chest, for dogs encompass me, a company of evildoers encircle me.

But David recognizes that he is not abandoned.  “For he has not despised or abhorred the affliction of the afflicted, and he has not hidden his face from him, but has heard when he cried to him.” (v. 24).  

The hope of Psalm 22, the triumph that is given to us and to Jesus, is that through all of our suffering, God is with us.  God will not turn His face away, but will hear our cries.

On the cross, Jesus cried out to God.  God heard Him.  God was with Him.

Further, Jesus’ quotation of this Psalm reminds us of exactly how much Jesus did for us.  He was God; He became human.  He took on our brokenness, pain, and suffering.

Jesus was truly telling us how He felt on the cross.  He felt abandoned.

We know differently.  We know that God was in Jesus, with Jesus, experiencing the pain and agony with Jesus.

The Bible Never Says God Turned His Face Away

Piper, like most other teachers I have heard discuss this issue, does not provide any scriptural foundation for the idea that God turned His face away.  Rather, Piper only says that the “forsakeness” about which Jesus cries out is “real.”

The Bible never says that God turned His face away from Jesus, nor that God abandoned Jesus while He was suffering.  In fact, the Bible says the opposite.

Where was God during the crucifixion? He was “in Christ” “reconciling the world to Himself.”  (2 Cor. 5:19).

Further, the Bible shows time and time again that God does not “hide Himself” from sin or that He “cannot be in the presence of sin.”

When Adam and Eve sinned, God came looking for them. (Gen. 3).

When Cain killed Abel, God spoke with him and even gave him protection from anyone who might harm him (Gen. 4).

Satan was allowed to be in the presence of God (Job 1).

Jesus, who was God, lived for over thirty years in the presence of sin.  He actively sought those who were cast out from society due to their sin.  He never turned His face from a repentant sinner.

In short, there is simply no Biblical foundation for the teaching that God turned His face away from Jesus, or that He abandoned Jesus on the cross. This teaching misses the fundamental truth of the cross as Paul wrote.

God was in Christ on the cross, reconciling the world to Himself.  He was right there with Jesus the entire time, fulfilling His ultimate plan of salvation.

Why Does This Matter? 

A good question is simply “who cares?” Why does this distinction matter?

First, there are several fundamental Christian doctrines that are affected by the reading of this event.

We believe that God has ultimate power and authority, even over sin.  To say that God “cannot” be in the presence of sin or even look at sin is to place sin in a position of authority over God.

We believe that God is the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, a triune being.  To say that the Father had to turn His back and abandon the Son (while the Spirit did…something I guess?) destroys the unity and fellowship of the Trinity.  We should not take such a result lightly.

Similarly, we believe that Jesus was God (John 10:30).  If God could not be in the presence of sin, or even look upon sin, how can we say Jesus (who lived among and actively sought sinners and then had the sin of the world placed upon His shoulders) was God?

A literate reading of the Scripture, without presupposition, confirms the Trinity, confirms the divinity of Jesus, and confirms the ultimate authority and power of God.

Our reading of the crucifixion must not conflict with those teachings.

Second, how we read this passage is a jarring reflection for how we view the Bible as a whole.

Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary (which is a heretical organization) presented an absolutely astounding article discussing this topic.  A major takeaway is that for generations, we have allowed our presuppositions to interfere with a clear reading of the Scripture; our view of the cross is colored by the beliefs we already hold and rob the Scripture of its literary and narrative contexts.

This is a major problem for Biblical interpretation in general, and something I am guilty of.

When I was a kid, I knew that evolution was false and evil and that intelligent design was the way the world was created.  When I read the Bible, I came to it with that presupposition, and I read the Scriptures in light of that presupposition.

When I was older and decided there was no way that intelligent design was true and that evolution was the answer to how the earth was formed, I came back to the Bible with those presuppositions, and I reread the Scriptures in that light.

I never allowed the Bible to actually speak for itself; I heard it say what I already believed it to say, whatever that may be.

When we look at the cross and the narratives found in the Gospels, we bring presuppositions with us.  We know that penal substitutionary atonement theory is correct, so we read the Scripture in light of that belief.

We know that God is so holy He cannot look upon sin, so we read the story in light of that presupposition.

We don’t let the Scripture speak for itself.

This is my greatest lesson over the past six months, and what I hope this blog will help with over the coming years.  God has revealed Himself to us through Jesus and through Scripture.

Instead of viewing these revelations through the lens of our own presuppositions, we must view them through the lens of the ultimate revelation: Jesus.

We have to let the Bible speak for itself, and we must not try to make it say what we want it to say.

Conclusion 

The cross is ugly; it represents humanity at its absolute worst.  Plato recognized in The Republic that if a perfect man ever walked among us, he would “be scourged, racked, bound. He [would] have his eyes burned out. And at last, after suffering every kind of evil, he [would] be crucified.”  (Plat. Rep. 2.362a available here).

God allowed Himself to suffer this humiliating, unjust execution through Jesus.  He never abandoned Jesus; He never turned His face away from Jesus.  God was in the midst of suffering with Jesus.

And God is in the midst of suffering with us.  He is our hope and salvation, and He will not turn His face away from us.

Woman of Valor: a Proverbs 31 Study

I thought I would start the blog in earnest with what is essentially a tribute to the fantastic women that have shaped me and who serve as exemplary models for my daughter.

Further, Proverbs 31 makes a very good starting point for how I have learned to re-read the Bible and seek the deeper meanings, the things God says beyond and through the actual words.

As a note, when I talk about “Proverbs 31” here, I am specifically referring to verses 10-31. The first nine verses are also important (Proverbs 31:6-7 are my “life verses”), but they do not directly relate to the concerns I’m addressing here.

What do I mean by “deeper meanings?”

Next week, I plan to tackle in earnest the Big Three of Biblical study and interpretation: Inspiration, Inerrancy, and Authority. It is frankly impossible to truly study the Bible and church history without first understanding how you think about the Bible itself.

As a Southern Baptist and an American evangelical, I was more or less taught that the literal, facial meaning of the Scriptures is of paramount importance. Of course, there are allegories and metaphors, but generally, what the Bible says it what the Bible means.

As a preview of next week, this post discusses the book Five Views on Biblical Inerrancy, which will play a big part in my discussions on the topic. In that book, Al Mohler (president of Southern Baptist Theological Seminary and a heretic) presents what he calls the “classical” view of inerrancy, which in a nutshell is the mainline American evangelical view that the Bible is absolutely and literally true in everything it says or “affirms.”

A deeper view can be found in how the Jewish people have read the Scriptures, particularly the Old Testament. Many Biblical scholars (such as Richard Rohr, a friar, prominent Catholic author, and heretic) have adopted this view from a Christian perspective.

The view is called PARDES and says there are four levels to interpreting and understanding Scripture: p’shat (simple meaning), remez (an implied meaning), d’rash (the conceptual meaning, often used as the basis for sermons), and sud (the hidden meaning, secret or mysterious).

When I talk about the “deeper meaning,” I am trying to work through the four levels and find the full meaning of the Scripture. This includes but also moves past the pashat or “simple” meaning of the text and asks the Holy Spirit to make me aware of the other things happening in any given Scripture.

Cool? Cool.

Proverbs 31: the Evangelical Pashat

So what does that have to do with Proverbs 31?

Growing up as a boy in a Southern Baptist church and American evangelical society, I had drilled into my head the idea that I needed to grow up and marry a “P-31 woman,” someone who embodied the characteristics listed in Proverbs 31:10-31. I witnessed those characteristics and standards being placed on the girls around me like a yoke, as if the key to being successful in life was to use Proverbs 31 as a checklist for behavior.  (This blog post  literally turned Proverbs 31 into a checklist).

Using Proverbs 31 as a “measuring stick” has caused pain and anguish for many women, even in my age group.

Laurin describes how hearing this depiction of Proverbs 31 made her feel “lacking” because she was in her 30s and wasn’t married. She described going to church on Mother’s Day making her feel “like she’d been in a fight for [her] femininity and lost.” Even now that she’s married, she still feels the need to measure herself against the Proverbs 31 woman, believing that she’s “not good enough.”

Rachel Held Evans (a Christian author and a heretic) discusses a litany of modern Christian literature that has turned Proverbs 31 into “a command to women” presented as a “task list through which a woman earns” praise.

This teaching is, at best, pashat, a simplistic reading of the surface level of the text. However, I don’t believe it is even pashat; instead, it is a complete misunderstanding of the text and what it is seeking to accomplish.

Please understand, I am not at all saying that trying to emulate the qualities shown in the passage is bad. On the contrary, it’s commendable. My argument is that we have missed an important truth in the text, and as with many passages in the Bible, the text has been used to harm girls and women. We can and must do better.

Woman of Valor: the Jewish understanding of Proverbs 31

What I never heard in my American evangelical church was that Proverbs 31 has a special place in Jewish tradition.

This passage is called the Eshet Chayil (or Hayil), which literally translates to “Woman of Valor.” This is the Hebrew text of verse 10 that Christian English translations render as a “virtuous woman” (KJV), an “excellent wife” (ESV and NASB), and a “truly good wife” (CEV). The NASB, ESV, Common English Bible, Good News Translation, Holmon Christian Standard Bible, and New Living Translation all translate this phrase as referring to a “wife.”

I’m not a Hebrew scholar, nor am I trying to say that those translations are wrong.

What I am saying is that those translations risk losing the deeper meaning behind eshet chayil.

Despite how I was taught, Proverbs 31 was not addressed to women as a “measuring stick” or as a checklist for living virtuous life.

It’s a song sung by a thankful man praising a woman for the amazing things she does.

This is reflected in modern Jewish tradition. In many houses, the entirety of verses 10-31 is sung every Friday night before the shabbat meal as a way to offer “appreciation for [the mother] who cooked, baked, and sewed, and had now prepared the Shabbat dinner.”

Chayil, valor, represents “bravery, capability, and triumph.”

The woman of valor exhibits these characteristics and embodies the wisdom described in other parts of Proverbs. She strives to perform the will of God in all that she does, so that “her accomplishments testify to her greatness . . . causing her to be praised by her family that [while] many women have done very well, she has exceeded them all.” (Rabbi Jack Abramowitz, “Wonder Woman.”)

Taking the drash view, the only other place in the Hebrew Bible where eshet chayil is used is in describing one particular woman.

Ruth.

Ruth is called “woman of valor” in Ruth 3:11. This is before she gets married (she was a widow), has kids, becomes wealthy, or has influence in the community.

In other words, Ruth is a woman of valor before she outwardly looks anything like the Proverbs 31 woman. Why?

She lived her life with bravery, wisdom, and strength. She sought after God, especially in the face of adversity.

In other words, despite being complete opposites on the outside, Ruth and the Proverbs 31 woman shared the same inner characteristics.

And those characteristics earned them praise.

This is the true pashat meaning of Proverbs 31. A woman does not have to be a perfect domestic and business owner.

She should live with bravery, wisdom,and strength, and she should seek after God.

And she should be praised for those virtues.

So what do we do with this?

The lesson I have taken from Proverbs 31 and Ruth is that it is crucial that I make conscious efforts to praise the women of valor that I know. Further, I truly believe that all of us (especially men (and doubly especially married men)) would contribute to a much better world if we lived the true meaning of Proverbs 31, which is to recognize and appreciate women who seek after God and act with bravery, wisdom, and strength.

And as I said at the beginning, this post is really just a thinly veiled tribute to the women who have shaped me into who I am.

My wife is a woman of valor. She worked more than full time at menial and challenging jobs so I could go to law school. She worked to provide for us when I was jobless out of law school and when I lost my job in August 2017. She keeps our home on track and together despite our ridiculous busyness. She spends tremendous time researching and implementing the best ways to raise and care for our baby girl, for whom she spent unknowable time and energy working to have a healthy pregnancy and birth. She is devoted to God and seeks after Him. Through her job she fights for the unborn and the mothers who have suffered from abortion. She is brave, wise, and strong.

My mother is a woman of valor. With all the time in the world and hands that did not tire from typing, I could not tell you all the ways that she has been crucial to my existence, my health, and my sanity. No matter what I’ve gone through, and no matter how I may have hurt her, she has never failed to be with me. She has guided me through rough waters and equipped me to guide myself. She seeks after God, and trained me how to do the same. She worked tirelessly to make our home a loving and thriving place to grow. Her friends and family cherish and seek after her wisdom. She is brave, wise, and strong.

My grandmothers are women of valor. My paternal grandmother raised my father in tough conditions in rural south Mississippi, and he became an astounding man.  She stood with my grandfather as cancer ravaged his body until he was called home.  My maternal grandmother spent two decades as a social worker for a poor and neglected population.  She provided for her family after my grandfather’s business fell through.  She has been wise and strong counsel to an unknowable number of people, including me.

My sister is a woman of valor.  She gave her heart and her time to high schoolers to show them a Godly role model.  She is an extremely valued friend to a rather shocking number of people.  She is brave, wise, and strong.

My aunt is a woman of valor.  She made herself into a successful and thriving businesswoman, and when mysterious illnesses robbed her of those successes and her health, she faced them with astounding grace and composure.  She is brave, wise, and strong.

My mother in law is a woman of valor.  She raised four children into true Godfollowers through significant adversity.  She has lovingly and gracefully cared for twin boys with special needs, and she has provided a home and a refuge for her daughter and grandchild after life hit them in a very rough way.  She is brave, wise, and strong.

Conclusion

As I tried to make clear at the beginning, it is commendable for any person to try and model their lives after the many virtues shown in Proverbs 31:10-31.

However, I believe the “checklist” model, or turning the passage into a yoke that weighs down women and girls is dangerous and has caused substantial damage.

We can do better.  For the sake of my daughter, we must be better.

My Sin of Certainty, pt. 2

I’ve told you where I was.  The purpose of this blog is to chronicle where I’m going.

More precisely, this blog will chronicle where Jesus is taking me, even when I don’t want to go.

In November 2017, I read an article about how Christian singer Michael Gungor sparked controversy on Twitter when he questioned penal substitutionary atonement theory (the article is here).  My main takeaway was not his stance on atonement; I was gravely concerned about the response to his statement from Christians.  I read numerous blog posts, comment threads, and articles labeling Gungor as a “heretic.”

The same label that has been applied to Rob Bell.

So I dug deeper.  I read articles and watched videos of theologians, pastors, and laypersons discussing a wide range of doctrinal topics, from Creation to Hell to Atonement to the nature of the Bible itself.  What I found absolutely shocked me.

Whenever a teacher said anything that wasn’t lockstep with mainline American evangelical thought, they were labeled heretics.

These labels invariably came from people on my “side,” American evangelicals.

I thought this was simply a quirk of the Internet, a theological version of trolling.  So I looked at the words of prominent American evangelical leaders.

John MacArthur. James White. Michael Brown. Todd Friel.

Not one of them hesitated to label people who disagreed with them as heretics and false teachers.  There was no room for questions, or doubts, or differing opinions.

Australian theologian Michael Bird recognized it as a “my way or the highway” approach to theology that was rather uniquely American.

Then I reflected on my own experiences.  I was told at different parts of my life by different pastors, teachers, and leaders that I should not ask questions.  I should not poke at the established doctrines of my church.  My denomination was correct, and there was no room for someone like me to question such correctness.

I was taught that doubt and questioning was the path to theological liberalism, which apparently is from Satan.

No one taught me that the church was literally founded by people who had doubts.  Matthew 28:17, immediately after Jesus gave the Great Commission: “They worshiped Him, though some doubted.”

Nor was I taught that the church fathers were not afraid of questions or disagreement.  Origen, Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, all engaged in fierce doctrinal debates.  Each powerfully and passionately argued in favor of their interpretations.

Yet none of them disparaged people who simply disagreed, as each recognized that their enemies were the actual heretics.

Gnosticism. Marcionism. Prosperity gospel.  These are actual heresies that Christians present a united front to combat.

Someone who reads Scripture and finds the Christus Victor atonement theory a better interpretation than strict penal substitution is not a heretic. 

Someone who reads Scripture, studies church history, and decides to believe that God, in His infinite wisdom and mercy, might allow everyone the opportunity to be saved after they die is not a heretic.

Disagreements are good.  Disagreements are healthy.  Disagreements mean that the parties are engaged and care about the material.

In Velvet Elvis, Rob Bell encouraged us to wrestle with everything.  If we have trouble with a particular interpretation of a Biblical text, we wrestle with it.  We study, pray, turn the interpretation upside down and sideways.  We find what others, from church fathers to modern theologians, say about the passage.

We seek guidance from the Holy Spirit, supported by an understanding given by those that have come before us.

Most likely, if we earnestly seek, we do not fall into a heresy, though Fr. Richard Rohr cautions if we find ourselves believing something that has never been believed by anyone in the history of orthodox faith, we need to seriously reconsider that belief.

The point of this blog, the focus of my current faith journey, is to ask questions and seek answers.  My goal is to have each post address a question I have or have heard and then to gather as many answers as I can.

What I don’t want to do is to tell people what to believe.  Most of the time, I will not actually know what I believe.

There are things we simply cannot and will not know.  God’s ways are not our ways.

And that’s OK.

It is not a heresy to have doubt.

Jesus came to rescue us from our sin of certainty.  The mystery, the not knowing, is an important part of the journey and should be celebrated, not outcast.

 

My Sin of Certainty, pt. 1

“The moment God is figured out with nice neat lines and definitions, we are no longer dealing with God.” Rob Bell, Velvet Elvis (2005).

I chose to start my new blog with a quote from Rob Bell; I am not unaware that just saying his name in a positive light is enough for some to label me a heretic. Nonetheless, understanding my journey with Rob Bell is integral to understanding where I was and where I am going.

In 2006, I entered my freshman year at Ole Miss (go LandsharkBearRebels) riding a spiritual certainty that had carried me through my high school years. I was born and raised (and still reside) in Mississippi, probably better known as at least the second loop holding up the Bible Belt. I was raised in (and still actively attend) a mid-size Southern Baptist church.

Based on my upbringing, I knew certain things. I knew that God was Love, but He was also Justice and Holiness and Wrath, and that Jesus had taken the full wrath of God upon Himself on the cross in our place. I knew that anyone who did not believe in Jesus was on a collision course with eternal conscious torment in Hell. I knew that the written Bible we have in our hands was the fully inspired, fully inerrant Word of God (though I could not in any way have defined what that meant). I knew that Baptists were right about all those doctrinal issues that have led to the existence of 30,000 Christian denominations. And above all, I knew that Christians were supposed to be intimately involved in politics so that America could be returned to its Christian roots, and we would drag it by force if we had to.

Spoiler alert: walking into college with so many immutable certainties dooms you for failure.

Over the years I have learned that my story is so far from unique that it borders on cliché. Through my time founding a Christian fraternity, serving at several churches, and listening to others with similar backgrounds, I have seen that failure take many shapes. Some have their certainties shaken and abandon their faith. Others have their certainties shaken, but choose to double down on their certainties and ignore any and all criticism of their beliefs. Others find ways to avoid having their certainties shaken in the first place; while this may seem “safer,” it is no less a failure.

My certainties came crashing down in December 2006.  So sure was I of my beliefs and their immutable truthiness that I decided to read “Letters to a Christian Nation” by Sam Harris, a leader in the New Atheism movement. By the thirtieth page I was ready to abandon everything I had ever believed. No, Harris’ writing was not that persuasive. This was in essence the first time I was so blatantly and forcefully exposed to the failings and trappings of Christian “morality” and the realities we routinely ignore in the name of dogma and doctrine. I was brought up to know with absolutely certainty that the things I believed were true and right and beneficial to humanity as a whole, and that no one who didn’t believe the things I believed could claim truth or rightness or benefit humanity.

This certainty was a sin.

This sin nearly derailed my journey when it was barely out of the depot. I spent three months in spiritual and emotional agony. How could a God that declared he was Love order the execution of children and infants? How could a God that declared he was Justice create laws that condemned to death children who disobeyed their parents? How could a God that declared he was Merciful give instructions on buying other humans and leaving them to your children as property?

I read more. The God Delusion, God is Not Great, pretty much the entirety of mid-2000s atheist canon. My doubts, my questions, all increased at an exponential pace that left me utterly broken.

And then I found Rob Bell.

And then I found Jesus.

The actual Jesus, not the one I previously thought I knew.

Velvet Elvis approached faith from a different perspective. Bell said Jesus didn’t come to box us in to a certain way of believing or a certain set of doctrines, but instead to free us from the need for such certainties. Our goal, our mission, was to meet and learn about Jesus first. Jesus showed us God, who no one had seen before (John 1:18). Only then did Jesus invite us to deepen our faith by studying and learning doctrines.

I was taught that doctrines were bricks, so when one or two broke, the entire wall fell. But doctrines were supposed to be springs on a great trampoline; Jesus was the mat and the frame that allowed us to jump, and doctrines were the springs that helped us jump higher. The wall kept people out, but the trampoline invited people in to experience the joy and the love found only in Jesus.

I read more. Blue Like Jazz, Searching for God Knows What, pretty much the entirety of mid-2000s Christian books aimed at disillusioned evangelicals. I read C.S. Lewis, G.K. Chesterton, writers who had struggled with these same issues generations before me.

And I was no longer alone.

As Bell deftly recognized, God spoke, and everything else is commentary. Through the commentaries of these writers I learned how to read Scripture and make sense of church tradition and my own experiences.

I found Jesus.