I recently took a test to discover my "theological worldview." This is how I came out; you should give it a try. You scored as Emergent/Postmodern. You are Emergent/Postmodern in your theology. You feel alienated from older forms of church, you don't think they connect to modern culture very well. No one knows the whole truth about God, and we have much to learn from each other, and so learning takes place in dialogue. Evangelism should take place in relationships rather than through crusades and altar-calls. People are interested in spirituality and want to ask questions, so the church should help them to do this.
What's your theological worldview? created with QuizFarm.com |
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Theological Worldview
Explosive Fourth
Ahh, the Fourth of July. A time for fireworks, flags, barbecue, and, oh, yes vomit! That's right, Sunday morning my wife woke up with a queasy feeling in her stomach. After taking the initial steps to get ready for worship we jointly decided it would be best for her to stay home and rest. Unfortunately, she wasn't the only one feeling queasy. About 10 minutes later, we went to check on our 19-month-old daughter. We stopped at the door. The foul smell of regurgitated spinach wafted through the air. We were two for two, both my girls--my wife and daughter--were sick.
Malia, my daughter, lay nearly motionless in a bed of spinach remixed. It was in her hair, she had rubbed in in her eyes--which showed the effects in their degree of swolleness--and her pajamas and mattress looked like a salad exploded. You might be picking up on this by now; it was gross.
Well, my wife, Rochelle cleaned up the baby while I cleaned up everything else and we were off to the races. At one point all four of us were sick--and by "four" I'm also counting Malia's stuffed dog, Puppers, whom she held onto nearly all day Sunday.
Monday, the 4th of July was only worse. Rochelle and I were felling better, but Malia still couldn't eat. We tried to give her some Emetrol, which is supposed to settle nausea. It did. As a matter of fact, it settled--actually it stained--on my gray T-shirt after Malia couldn't hold it down. But Malia's day was harder than mine.
Malia wouldn't eat or drink anything. Better put, she wouldn't and couldn't eat or drink anything: What went down must come up! We tried it all; Pedialyte, water, diluted Gatorade. Nothing worked! The problem wasn't only that she couldn't hold anything down anymore, it was that she refused to drink anything, which is odd for her because she usually can't drink enough. It really got worrisome when our pediatrician--himself out of home-remedies to give us--suggested that if she wouldn't drink anything we would have to bring her in to hydrate her with an IV. Malia doesn't like being stuck with needles and her dad doesn't like watching her being stuck with needles. Fortunately, she was finally willing to drink and hold down some milk. Milk isn't the best for hydration, but it's better than nothing.
Thank God it's Tuesday, Malia is off to the doctor's office this morning to make sure everything is okay.
There was an upside to the sickness, though. 19-month-olds are usually pretty busy creatures; running, walking, playing. Malia doesn't sit still anymore or allow you to hold her for very long, but when she's sick she does. Now don't get me wrong, I don't like her being sick and not feeling well, but I do like being able to rock her in my big, leather chair, and having her lay between her mother and me on the floor as I explain how the ceiling fan works. And I love to see the way her eyes begin to light up when she starts to feel better.
When Malia was an infant I tried to burn into my chest and arms the feeling of holding her as she rocked to sleep. I couldn't. Some things can't be captured. It was nice, though a little messy, to have a cuddly baby again yesterday. I can't tell myself enough, and I can't tell others enough either, how desperately important it is to treasure every moment--both good and bad--with your children. So I guess I say all that to say this: I don't think it's so bad to a have your child throw up on you as long as you get to hold them when they're done.
Malia, my daughter, lay nearly motionless in a bed of spinach remixed. It was in her hair, she had rubbed in in her eyes--which showed the effects in their degree of swolleness--and her pajamas and mattress looked like a salad exploded. You might be picking up on this by now; it was gross.
Well, my wife, Rochelle cleaned up the baby while I cleaned up everything else and we were off to the races. At one point all four of us were sick--and by "four" I'm also counting Malia's stuffed dog, Puppers, whom she held onto nearly all day Sunday.
Monday, the 4th of July was only worse. Rochelle and I were felling better, but Malia still couldn't eat. We tried to give her some Emetrol, which is supposed to settle nausea. It did. As a matter of fact, it settled--actually it stained--on my gray T-shirt after Malia couldn't hold it down. But Malia's day was harder than mine.
Malia wouldn't eat or drink anything. Better put, she wouldn't and couldn't eat or drink anything: What went down must come up! We tried it all; Pedialyte, water, diluted Gatorade. Nothing worked! The problem wasn't only that she couldn't hold anything down anymore, it was that she refused to drink anything, which is odd for her because she usually can't drink enough. It really got worrisome when our pediatrician--himself out of home-remedies to give us--suggested that if she wouldn't drink anything we would have to bring her in to hydrate her with an IV. Malia doesn't like being stuck with needles and her dad doesn't like watching her being stuck with needles. Fortunately, she was finally willing to drink and hold down some milk. Milk isn't the best for hydration, but it's better than nothing.
Thank God it's Tuesday, Malia is off to the doctor's office this morning to make sure everything is okay.
There was an upside to the sickness, though. 19-month-olds are usually pretty busy creatures; running, walking, playing. Malia doesn't sit still anymore or allow you to hold her for very long, but when she's sick she does. Now don't get me wrong, I don't like her being sick and not feeling well, but I do like being able to rock her in my big, leather chair, and having her lay between her mother and me on the floor as I explain how the ceiling fan works. And I love to see the way her eyes begin to light up when she starts to feel better.
When Malia was an infant I tried to burn into my chest and arms the feeling of holding her as she rocked to sleep. I couldn't. Some things can't be captured. It was nice, though a little messy, to have a cuddly baby again yesterday. I can't tell myself enough, and I can't tell others enough either, how desperately important it is to treasure every moment--both good and bad--with your children. So I guess I say all that to say this: I don't think it's so bad to a have your child throw up on you as long as you get to hold them when they're done.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
On Being Authentic
Last night was a great blessing for me. It was the second meeting of our summer Tuesday night gatherings for young adults at my church. This summer we are reading through Donald Miller's, "Searching for God Knows What".
Instead of meeting at our church building, we have decided to meet at places around town. I think this is good for at least two reasons. One, I have become more and more convicted about taking faith public. I don't mean shouting from street corners or bothering your co-workers to the point that they all avoid you at the Christmas party. Rather, I'm talking about living and breathing and expressing faith in public places and calling people into the Kingdom of God. Secondly, getting away from the building invites conversation--and more real conversation at that. There's something about an institutional church building that screams, "BE FAKE HERE!"
Last night's conversation was great. Miller's book is a thought-provoking, humorous launching point for discussion, and I have to say that last night's conversation was one of the most authentic I've ever had with a Christian/Church group. As of late, my heart have craved authenticity. The problem is, I'm not sure I know it when I see it.
Lots of churches--especially newer churches--are talking about being more "authentic."That sometimes means that in a Bible class someone might unleash a small profanity or something like that. But is that authenticity? Is "authenticity" the church's' new license to say something profane or ridiculously unorthodox? I hope not, but I can see why that might be a necessary step--kind of a spiritual adolescence--to shake many of us out of our pat, churchy answers and responses to life.
And then there are churches where authenticity means you can wear jeans and not comb your hair. I don't have anything against jeans, or not combing your for that matter, but I'm starting to sense that authenticity means--to some at least--just NOT doing whatever they do at your parent's church. Or authenticity means trading the sub-culture of suits and didactic Bible classes from the established church for a new sub-culture of goatees and coffee-house "Bible dialogues" in new churches.
I guess I have a lot of questions about what authenticity really is. Is it authentic to make fun of the traditional, established church or be a Democrat because it seems that so many in the traditional church are Republicans? Is it authentic to have your ipod filled with Green Day instead of Third Day? Is that authenticity? Is that what it means to be real?
Here's a sad thought: Are Christians and churches struggling with being "authentic" communities of faith because we have had such little practice at it? Or maybe that's the goal of life; we all struggle to be real and it's the community of faith that helps us understand what reality is. At the very least, I would hope that that is what authenticity can be.
I would very much like a church dedicated to helping people regain reality. It seems to me that those outside church walls aren't doing any better at becoming real, at least not in the sense of realizing who we are and why we're here. Perhaps some our churches need new mission statements? How about something like this: "The Community Church: Working to be Real" or "The Community Church: Journeying Toward Authenticity."
Like I said before, I'm not sure I know authenticity when I see it. What do you think?
Instead of meeting at our church building, we have decided to meet at places around town. I think this is good for at least two reasons. One, I have become more and more convicted about taking faith public. I don't mean shouting from street corners or bothering your co-workers to the point that they all avoid you at the Christmas party. Rather, I'm talking about living and breathing and expressing faith in public places and calling people into the Kingdom of God. Secondly, getting away from the building invites conversation--and more real conversation at that. There's something about an institutional church building that screams, "BE FAKE HERE!"
Last night's conversation was great. Miller's book is a thought-provoking, humorous launching point for discussion, and I have to say that last night's conversation was one of the most authentic I've ever had with a Christian/Church group. As of late, my heart have craved authenticity. The problem is, I'm not sure I know it when I see it.
Lots of churches--especially newer churches--are talking about being more "authentic."That sometimes means that in a Bible class someone might unleash a small profanity or something like that. But is that authenticity? Is "authenticity" the church's' new license to say something profane or ridiculously unorthodox? I hope not, but I can see why that might be a necessary step--kind of a spiritual adolescence--to shake many of us out of our pat, churchy answers and responses to life.
And then there are churches where authenticity means you can wear jeans and not comb your hair. I don't have anything against jeans, or not combing your for that matter, but I'm starting to sense that authenticity means--to some at least--just NOT doing whatever they do at your parent's church. Or authenticity means trading the sub-culture of suits and didactic Bible classes from the established church for a new sub-culture of goatees and coffee-house "Bible dialogues" in new churches.
I guess I have a lot of questions about what authenticity really is. Is it authentic to make fun of the traditional, established church or be a Democrat because it seems that so many in the traditional church are Republicans? Is it authentic to have your ipod filled with Green Day instead of Third Day? Is that authenticity? Is that what it means to be real?
Here's a sad thought: Are Christians and churches struggling with being "authentic" communities of faith because we have had such little practice at it? Or maybe that's the goal of life; we all struggle to be real and it's the community of faith that helps us understand what reality is. At the very least, I would hope that that is what authenticity can be.
I would very much like a church dedicated to helping people regain reality. It seems to me that those outside church walls aren't doing any better at becoming real, at least not in the sense of realizing who we are and why we're here. Perhaps some our churches need new mission statements? How about something like this: "The Community Church: Working to be Real" or "The Community Church: Journeying Toward Authenticity."
Like I said before, I'm not sure I know authenticity when I see it. What do you think?
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Onward, Moderate Christian Soldiers
Below I have posted a recent article by former Republican Senator John C. Danforth. Danforth--also an Episcopal minister--represents an alternative voice for Christians in our country's current political conversation. Some will ask: "Sean, do you agree with everything in this article?" The answer: "No, I do not!" But what I do like is that many Christians--Danforth included--are beginning to step forward and remind our country and the media that a few proported "Christian" leaders do not represent all Christians, and that there is more than one way to approach faith and politics.
I hope you find the article interesting and thought-provoking. Moreover, I pray that this article cause all of us to think deeply about the way we think Christ-followers should behave in and react to the world around us.
--Sean
Onward, Moderate Christian Soldiers
By JOHN C. DANFORTH
Published: June 17, 2005 N.Y. Times
IT would be an oversimplification to say that America's culture wars are now between people of faith and nonbelievers. People of faith are not of one mind, whether on specific issues like stem cell research and government intervention in the case of Terri Schiavo, or the more general issue of how religion relates to politics. In recent years, conservative Christians have presented themselves as representing the one authentic Christian perspective on politics. With due respect for our conservative friends, equally devout Christians come to very different conclusions.
It is important for those of us who are sometimes called moderates to make the case that we, too, have strongly held Christian convictions, that we speak from the depths of our beliefs, and that our approach to politics is at least as faithful as that of those who are more conservative. Our difference concerns the extent to which government should, or even can, translate religious beliefs into the laws of the state.
People of faith have the right, and perhaps the obligation, to bring their values to bear in politics. Many conservative Christians approach politics with a certainty that they know God's truth, and that they can advance the kingdom of God through governmental action. So they have developed a political agenda that they believe advances God's kingdom, one that includes efforts to "put God back" into the public square and to pass a constitutional amendment intended to protect marriage from the perceived threat of homosexuality.
Moderate Christians are less certain about when and how our beliefs can be translated into statutory form, not because of a lack of faith in God but because of a healthy acknowledgement of the limitations of human beings. Like conservative Christians, we attend church, read the Bible and say our prayers.
But for us, the only absolute standard of behavior is the commandment to love our neighbors as ourselves. Repeatedly in the Gospels, we find that the Love Commandment takes precedence when it conflicts with laws. We struggle to follow that commandment as we face the realities of everyday living, and we do not agree that our responsibility to live as Christians can be codified by legislators.
When, on television, we see a person in a persistent vegetative state, one who will never recover, we believe that allowing the natural and merciful end to her ordeal is more loving than imposing government power to keep her hooked up to a feeding tube.
When we see an opportunity to save our neighbors' lives through stem cell research, we believe that it is our duty to pursue that research, and to oppose legislation that would impede us from doing so.
We think that efforts to haul references of God into the public square, into schools and courthouses, are far more apt to divide Americans than to advance faith. Following a Lord who reached out in compassion to all human beings, we oppose amending the Constitution in a way that would humiliate homosexuals.
For us, living the Love Commandment may be at odds with efforts to encapsulate Christianity in a political agenda. We strongly support the separation of church and state, both because that principle is essential to holding together a diverse country, and because the policies of the state always fall short of the demands of faith. Aware that even our most passionate ventures into politics are efforts to carry the treasure of religion in the earthen vessel of government, we proceed in a spirit of humility lacking in our conservative colleagues.
In the decade since I left the Senate, American politics has been characterized by two phenomena: the increased activism of the Christian right, especially in the Republican Party, and the collapse of bipartisan collegiality. I do not think it is a stretch to suggest a relationship between the two. To assert that I am on God's side and you are not, that I know God's will and you do not, and that I will use the power of government to advance my understanding of God's kingdom is certain to produce hostility.
By contrast, moderate Christians see ourselves, literally, as moderators. Far from claiming to possess God's truth, we claim only to be imperfect seekers of the truth. We reject the notion that religion should present a series of wedge issues useful at election time for energizing a political base. We believe it is God's work to practice humility, to wear tolerance on our sleeves, to reach out to those with whom we disagree, and to overcome the meanness we see in today's politics.
For us, religion should be inclusive, and it should seek to bridge the differences that separate people. We do not exclude from worship those whose opinions differ from ours. Following a Lord who sat at the table with tax collectors and sinners, we welcome to the Lord's table all who would come. Following a Lord who cited love of God and love of neighbor as encompassing all the commandments, we reject a political agenda that displaces that love. Christians who hold these convictions ought to add their clear voice of moderation to the debate on religion in politics.
I hope you find the article interesting and thought-provoking. Moreover, I pray that this article cause all of us to think deeply about the way we think Christ-followers should behave in and react to the world around us.
--Sean
Onward, Moderate Christian Soldiers
By JOHN C. DANFORTH
Published: June 17, 2005 N.Y. Times
IT would be an oversimplification to say that America's culture wars are now between people of faith and nonbelievers. People of faith are not of one mind, whether on specific issues like stem cell research and government intervention in the case of Terri Schiavo, or the more general issue of how religion relates to politics. In recent years, conservative Christians have presented themselves as representing the one authentic Christian perspective on politics. With due respect for our conservative friends, equally devout Christians come to very different conclusions.
It is important for those of us who are sometimes called moderates to make the case that we, too, have strongly held Christian convictions, that we speak from the depths of our beliefs, and that our approach to politics is at least as faithful as that of those who are more conservative. Our difference concerns the extent to which government should, or even can, translate religious beliefs into the laws of the state.
People of faith have the right, and perhaps the obligation, to bring their values to bear in politics. Many conservative Christians approach politics with a certainty that they know God's truth, and that they can advance the kingdom of God through governmental action. So they have developed a political agenda that they believe advances God's kingdom, one that includes efforts to "put God back" into the public square and to pass a constitutional amendment intended to protect marriage from the perceived threat of homosexuality.
Moderate Christians are less certain about when and how our beliefs can be translated into statutory form, not because of a lack of faith in God but because of a healthy acknowledgement of the limitations of human beings. Like conservative Christians, we attend church, read the Bible and say our prayers.
But for us, the only absolute standard of behavior is the commandment to love our neighbors as ourselves. Repeatedly in the Gospels, we find that the Love Commandment takes precedence when it conflicts with laws. We struggle to follow that commandment as we face the realities of everyday living, and we do not agree that our responsibility to live as Christians can be codified by legislators.
When, on television, we see a person in a persistent vegetative state, one who will never recover, we believe that allowing the natural and merciful end to her ordeal is more loving than imposing government power to keep her hooked up to a feeding tube.
When we see an opportunity to save our neighbors' lives through stem cell research, we believe that it is our duty to pursue that research, and to oppose legislation that would impede us from doing so.
We think that efforts to haul references of God into the public square, into schools and courthouses, are far more apt to divide Americans than to advance faith. Following a Lord who reached out in compassion to all human beings, we oppose amending the Constitution in a way that would humiliate homosexuals.
For us, living the Love Commandment may be at odds with efforts to encapsulate Christianity in a political agenda. We strongly support the separation of church and state, both because that principle is essential to holding together a diverse country, and because the policies of the state always fall short of the demands of faith. Aware that even our most passionate ventures into politics are efforts to carry the treasure of religion in the earthen vessel of government, we proceed in a spirit of humility lacking in our conservative colleagues.
In the decade since I left the Senate, American politics has been characterized by two phenomena: the increased activism of the Christian right, especially in the Republican Party, and the collapse of bipartisan collegiality. I do not think it is a stretch to suggest a relationship between the two. To assert that I am on God's side and you are not, that I know God's will and you do not, and that I will use the power of government to advance my understanding of God's kingdom is certain to produce hostility.
By contrast, moderate Christians see ourselves, literally, as moderators. Far from claiming to possess God's truth, we claim only to be imperfect seekers of the truth. We reject the notion that religion should present a series of wedge issues useful at election time for energizing a political base. We believe it is God's work to practice humility, to wear tolerance on our sleeves, to reach out to those with whom we disagree, and to overcome the meanness we see in today's politics.
For us, religion should be inclusive, and it should seek to bridge the differences that separate people. We do not exclude from worship those whose opinions differ from ours. Following a Lord who sat at the table with tax collectors and sinners, we welcome to the Lord's table all who would come. Following a Lord who cited love of God and love of neighbor as encompassing all the commandments, we reject a political agenda that displaces that love. Christians who hold these convictions ought to add their clear voice of moderation to the debate on religion in politics.
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