From Nietzsche …

From Nietzsche -

“The end of a melody is not its goal: but nonetheless, had the melody not reached its end it would not have reached its goal either. A parable.”

Been thinking a lot about endings recently. With graduation upon us and my own transition out of my role as a youth pastor, there are an awful lot of things coming to a tidy conclusion in my life.

Maybe you’re the same way. Maybe a big part of your journey is drawing to a close. Maybe a horrible time in your life is coming to an end. Maybe both are the same. Wherever you find yourself, this much I know:

Endings are necessary. They are good. They aren’t always happy. They aren’t always tidy. But they must happen for us to move forward, because that’s what it means to be human. To move forward. To grow. To change. To chance. Too often we forget that; too often we strive to be unchanging, sedentary, immovable and thus end up rebelling against our own selves. We aren’t static creatures because we lack the resources for it.

We are finite. And finitude means adaptation, and adaptation means changing things about ourselves, our circumstances and our lives as often as necessary.

So part of becoming who we are meant to be is letting go of one version of ourselves, or one time in our lives, and moving towards the next. We don’t live for the end, and I don’t really believe we stop at the end; I think each ending is for the moment, not for the one found within it.

Many thoughts. These are just a few.

The Real Test

Are you smart enough to talk about God with a preschooler?

I happen to have many friends and acquaintances who are interested in apologetics (being able to explain the Christian faith). We are an interesting crew, ranging from folks with highly advanced Ph.D’s to schmoes like me, and we are keen on being able to put our faith into words. We want people to understand that belief in God and His Son, Jesus Christ, is not a blind leap into an uninformed, unintelligent abyss, but a reasonable belief grounded in reason and evidence.

This desire for understanding puts us in the path of people who don’t always agree with our view of the world. In fact, many apologists actually seek out those with the toughest questions, the most skeptical of the skeptics. They do this not as a fool’s errand, but as an act of worship and charity; worship, because they want to tell of their glorious God, and charity, because they want their skeptical friends to hear the truth of the Gospel. And it is exactly encounters like those that keeps my apologist friends forever reading, researching, writing, honing their understanding of God’s universe and will.

We seek, to the best of our ability, to make God known.

All of this is well and good, but if we’re not careful we can get into a rut. To put it plainly, we cheat. We tend to think that the deep questions of the faith come from mature minds, from people who are able to critically assess the universe in which they live. So we build our answers around that presumption, importing large words and sophisticated sounding terms that are meant to impart wisdom as well as create the impression that we know of which we speak. We arm ourselves for adults and feel like we have things mastered.

But have you ever tried apologetics with a not-quite-four year old?

Now THAT is a test. Perhaps the real test of whether or not you truly understand what you believe.

Because a four year old doesn’t have the intellectual or moral hang ups of an adult. They don’t have the baggage of past sins, the experience of past hurts, or any other number of objections that make faith in God difficult. A four year old is just the opposite: so gloriously free of preconceptions that their questions are truly a search for knowledge.

You don’t think about this when you’re doing apologetics with adults. You assume there’s a knowledge base of some sort, and you go from there. With kids, it’s a blank page. And it’s hard. You never realize just how silly you can sound until you try out a fancy apologetic argument on a preschooler.

It sounds about as stupid as trying to explain superheroes. In your mind it all makes sense, but you can see on the kid’s face that what you’re selling, they ain’t buying.

And when a kid doesn’t get a concept, when they truly don’t understand – but want to – they ask the question that every parent dreads hearing, but every apologist thinks they’re prepared for: why?

Why can’t we see God?

Why does God live in heaven?

Why did Jesus have to die?

Why is there sin?

Why did my grandmother get sick?

Why do some people get baptized?

Why do you pray?

Why do some prayers not get answered?

Not all of a preschoolers questions are whys, though. You get a lot of interesting whats as well: what will heaven look like? What does Jesus do all day? What if God has stinky feet? What happens if we don’t love God?

And don’t forget the wheres, whens and hows.

It is astounding how quickly the philosophy in your head falls apart in a four year old’s hands, how guilty you can be of not thinking deeply enough so a preschooler can understand.

When Jesus said it takes the faith of a child to come to God, I don’t think he meant simple-minded in the sense we think of. I think he meant it in the sense that a child seeks genuine answers with genuine awe. As adults, we just seek answers that will shut somebody up, end the argument, get us through the day. It’s a utilitarian belief rather than a sincere one. That’s a broad statement to make, but I don’t think it’s unfair.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately because both of my children have been asking some profound questions, but especially my son. He wants so badly to understand things that he can turn a five minute car ride into an interrogatory hell. He asks a million questions, often repeating the same ones, not because he’s not listening, but precisely because he is. And it pushes me to constantly reframe my answers, to drill down, distill, cut away the fluff that adults will allow until I get to the meat that he’s craving.

I’lll stand on a stage and face an audience full of adults any day. And they’ll probably think I’m smarter than my son does.

So for all you apologists out there who think you have the answers down pat, may I issue you a helpful challenge, one meant to hone your own thinking and help make you sharper for the adults you face?

Sometime in the next month or so, volunteer to teach your church’s preschool class, or give the children’s church sermon.

You’ll be amazed at how much the kids can teach you.

The Lesson of Cain

This morning, I began a new segment with my Christian Learning Center class. We’re discussing the philosophical foundations and development of Biblical worldview this semester, so that means were looking extensively at how the Bible answers the four fundamental questions of life: origin, meaning, morality and destiny. This morning marked the beginning of our look at morality. So naturally I started in a really strange place: the story of Cain and Abel.

I read the story from Genesis 4 and then asked the students one simple question: Was God fair to Cain?

Immediately they connected my question with the punishment of Cain, and naturally they said that God was not only fair to Cain, but merciful. I kindly replied that Cain’s punishment wasn’t the action I questioned. I wanted to know if God were fair to Cain before that.

They questioned my question, so I asked them to do me a favor (you can do this too, if you want to play along at home and humor an idiot such as myself): I asked them to go back into Genesis 1-3 and find the place where God laid down the laws regarding sacrifice. Any verse would do. Just find the one where God tells Adam and Eve or Cain or Abel what He expected regarding offerings submitted to Him.

They went silent, searching their cellphones and the random hard copies on hand. One minute ticked by, then two; eventually, after five painful minutes, one of the students looked up and said, “This is a trick question. There’s nothing in here about what sacrifices God wanted.”

And I said, “Bingo. When you read the Scripture, it would appear that the gifts from both Cain and Abel are spontaneous gestures. Cain brings part of his stock and trade; Abel brings part of his. God is pleased with Abel’s, not so pleased with Cain’s. There’s no reason given why He felt that way, despite the fact that many Christians have been taught that Abel gave from a pure heart but Cain didn’t. That’s not in the text here**, so let’s put it aside and consider this story as it’s written, and let me ask you again: was God fair to Cain?”

**I’m patently aware that Hebrews 11:4 acknowledges that Abel’s sacrifice was better than Cain’s, but the writer of Hebrews still doesn’t tell us why that was so – it merely confirms it was. So I submit to you that the notion that Abel’s heart was more in tune with God is something that we read into the text to help create a context for what happens next. I think this is an instance where well-meaning Christians have invented a false “truth” to help ameliorate discomfort over the seeming arbitrariness of God in the passage.

There was a pause. Finally, one of my students said, “No, I don’t think He was. It’s not fair to not give a guy any standards and then tell him he doesn’t meet those standards.”

Other students agreed.

One did not. She still insisted that God had been plenty fair to Cain, and that Cain was a jerk at heart anyway because he got miffed and killed Abel. And murder confirms jerkiness, so Cain probably brought a jerky sacrifice and God merely pointed that out.

Again, I told asked her to put aside the aftermath of Cain’s sacrifice, and just consider the sacrifice itself. I asked her to set aside everything else she knew about the story and just consider, for a moment, if God were fair to Cain in rejecting his sacrifice.

She looked at me, and said brilliantly, “Yes. Because He’s God, and He determines what’s acceptable or not.”

And I pointed at her and said, “Exactly. This is the beginning point of morality for anyone who would profess to be a Christian: God alone determines what is and isn’t acceptable. What is and isn’t right or wrong.”

I wish I could say that this was a deep and profound thought that I’ve been harboring for a long time. I wish I could say that I stole it from someone like John Piper or Tim Keller or Al Mohler or any other wise and deep theologian. Instead, it was the result of me staying awake most of the night with this story on my mind, convinced that it was the place to begin our exploration on morality without really understanding why, other than the fact that this story has ALWAYS bothered me.

Maybe it’s because I’m an older brother myself, but I never could quite shake the idea that Cain got a raw deal. I’ve grown up being taught that he was a jerk, that he was an evil person at heart (as evidenced by his killing Abel), and it never seemed quite fair to me. In fact, it always struck me as retrofitting. I’m probably the only Cain sympathizer in the known universe, so I’ll accept any questions regarding my orthodoxy with the acknowledgement that I deserve such questions.

But walking through this passage this morning, with God leading me ahead of my students, helping us all to see that He alone is the Sovereign King who decides right and wrong on the basis of His perfect, unchanging nature and character…well, that was the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in a long time. It brought sense to a text I’ve wrestled with for years and it opened up my heart to fear and marvel at God once again.

I don’t think God was capricious in His choosing between Cain and Abel. I don’t doubt that any of the explanations we’ve offered in the millennia since this story was written contain truth about Cain, his heart and what God knew about each. To be perfectly honest, this story makes me think about Romans 9, an incredible passage that makes clear God makes vessels of dishonor to use as He sees fit.

I would daresay Cain was one of those vessels.

The students sat stunned at the idea. I won’t say anyone’s paradigm shifted (after all, it’s hard to shift anything at 7:30 in the morning) but there was certainly a look of comprehension on a great many faces. The story of Cain and Abel wasn’t about their righteousness or unrighteousness – it was about the Sovereign God and His established rule.

I’ll probably be castigated for my take on the passage, and I invite and welcome the discussion in the comments below. But even if my interpretation is unorthodox, I stand by the conclusion: that this story shows us, if nothing else, that the root of Biblical and Christian morality lies not within ourselves, or even our understanding of God’s Law. It is found in the essence of God Himself, in His character and authority and His power.

Can’t get more orthodox than that.

Sovereign God or Cosmic Janitor?

I have two Bible verses that have been bouncing around in my head for the past few days. I’ve read both before, and possibly have even seen them linked together in some context or another, but they suddenly converged this week and grabbed my attention. And not just grabbed my attention, but Jedi Mind-melded with it, affixing my thoughts whenever I wasn’t actively occupied with something else.

Both verses have to do with The Problem of Evil. Here’s the first verse:

Romans 8:28 – “We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God: those who are called according to his purpose.” (HCSB)

This verse is usually quoted by Christians as proof that even when things go wrong, God can and will use those circumstances to our benefit in some way. Often, we imagine some sort of tangible benefit (gaining wisdom, being able to see a new opportunity, etc), but it’s also used as guarantor of spiritual growth (we come to know more about God). Either way, the verse is quoted as encouragement to remain true to the faith no matter what life throws at us.

Personally, I think it’s a fine use of the verse. In fact, Paul himself wrote the verse as an encouragement to the saints in Rome; in a passage where he details the sufferings and sorrows of human experience, Paul points the Roman Christians beyond the temporal discomfort of the age to the eternal glory that awaits. What seems too much to bear now, is, in fact, revealing the better things that are to come. Stay strong, he says, and God will use these afflictions to bless.

It’s comforting. It helps provide solid ground in unsteady times.

But how does God do it, exactly?

Sometimes, when we quote this verse, we make it sound like God is a detached Midas, someone hanging in the shadows until the mess hits the fan. Then, in the nick of time, He benevolently/miraculously steps in and turns our tough times into gold. Our sufferings are made into blessings, and He retreats back into the shadows until we need Him again.

There’s a couple of things troubling about this view: one, if God is in the shadows, that means someone/thing besides Him is in control. Two, God is relegated to a position of wish fulfiller/pooper-scooper that is an affront to His holiness and power. Three, it puts the emphasis on our receiving good instead of on God’s power to bring it about. It’s a defective view of our relationship with Him.

That’s where the other verse comes in. I mentioned two, remember?

Isaiah 45:7 – “I form light and create darkness, I make success and create disaster; I, the LORD, do these things.” (HCSB)

This verse gets brought up a lot when you’re talking about evil because the King James version translates “disaster” as “evil.” But the verse isn’t talking about moral evil (or the choosing of the not-good); it’s talking about physical incidents that bring about disturbance in human events. It’s talking about things like natural disasters, sickness, struggle, hardship. It’s uncomfortable for many Christians to associate these things with God, but from the Old Testament on we see that God not only uses such things to His will, He also brings them to pass when He deems it necessary. Think Pharaoh’s hardened heart; think Noah; think Joshua and the sun; heck, think about Jesus calming the stormy sea.

When you think about the sovereignty of God being that absolute – that He can not only bring about calamity, but use it to bless His people – you have a much different God than one that just hangs around and cleans up messes. You have a God who doesn’t just want worship, He deserves it.

There will be those that disagree, and I will readily admit that this is an issue I go round and round with a lot. It’s easier for me to reconcile and make sense of an all-good, no-bad God when that God is incapable of ever doing anything I would consider bad (like natural disasters, diseases, etc). But that kind of God is also reduced to a bystander; either by His desire or His limits, He’s not able to actively work in my life. He can only respond to the things that happen to me, even if the response is to bring about good for me. Plus, if He’s limited to just making lemonade out of life’s lemons, that means praying for Him to intervene beforehand is useless.

For God to be able to stop disaster and suffering, He must be more than a bystander. But that means He’s more than most of us are comfortable with. He’s greater than our feeble imaginings. Either God is sovereign, able to “make success and create disaster” according to His will, or He’s less-than-the-One-True-God. It’s challenging to think about if you’re used to God just being your cosmic janitor.

What about you? Are you worshiping the Sovereign God or a safety valve?

Does Every Life Have a Purpose?

I pray a lot over my kids. I pray for their salvation. I pray for them to be healthy. I pray for them to find the right spouse. I pray for them to be safe, be strong, be smart, be kind. But perhaps more than anything, I pray for them to discover and own their purpose for living.

It’s not exactly an uncommon prayer – I can think of other parents who pray the same thing for their children – but it’s an uncommonly strong desire of mine that they find themselves sooner rather than later. I don’t want them walking vacantly through their lives, wondering what they’re meant to do, only coming to discover their purpose and passion at a late age when changing their lives to accomodate their purpose is hard. I say that from experience. I pray for them out of that experience.

But sometimes, if I’m honest with myself, I wonder if every life has a purpose. If everyone is meant to do something with the time they have on earth. I’ve grown up hearing that each life does have a purpose; I’ve made it a point to study the Scriptures that reveal that purpose; I’ve spent hours exhorting people to find that purpose and fulfill their God-given reason for being. And yet still I occasionally wonder: does every life really have a purpose?

If the answer is no, then my prayers for my kids is a bit vain. in fact, if the answer is no, then my life is possibly vain – after all, who’s to say that what I’ve discovered as my purpose isn’t really just my feeble attempt to give meaning to life that’s ultimately meaningless? That my purpose isn’t just me manufacturing something to give my life direction so I could feel as grounded as those people who actually do have a purpose?

This sounds stupid. I know. But I’m getting somewhere with it. Just hold on.

In the end, thinking about whether life is meaningless or meaningful isn’t really a question. I believe, and am backed by Scripture, that each life has a purpose. The ancient Christians believed this too, and built it into the first question of the Westminster Catechism:

Q. 1. What is the chief end of man?
A. Man’s chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever.

We exist to glorify God and enjoy Him forever. That’s our purpose. Each and every person is meant – created – so God would be glorified. That’s an awesome thought.

And it’s part of what I’m praying for my kids. That they’ll learn who they are in Christ, learn those things about themselves that makes them unique among his creation, and learn how to bring glory to God by being the fullest expression of themselves. Or to be more concrete: that my kids would find those things that they are good at, excel at those things, and bring God glory through the effort.

Jon loves to build. Ella loves to sing. Jon loves playing games and solving puzzles. Ella loves creating imaginary worlds with words and illustrations. Might those interests fall by the wayside as they grow up? Certainly. But they might also be the very things that God gifted them to do in this life, things that – in their doing – will bring God glory that no other person can bring Him.

Does that mean they’ll be famous? No.

But it means they’ll be fulfilled. Which is what I’m really praying for anyway. It’s what I want for my life, and for anyone who walks the face of the earth: to be fulfilled by being who God made them to be. Fathers, poets, politicians, teachers, firemen, soldiers, chefs, nurses, trainers, managers, pilots, preachers, singers, servers, and saints – plus every person in between. All living their lives to the fullest to bring glory to God. 

Does it mean they’ll never encounter hardship or heartache? No.

But it means that when they are tested, they’ll remember in the correct context that God works things out for our good (Romans 8:28), that He uses our life circumstances to help us achieve our purpose – bringing Him glory. See, we tend to take the glory for ourselves, even when we’re well-intentioned. Humility suffers at the hand of prosperity, and life has this way of bringing us back down too earth. It’s unpleasant to say, but all too often God only gets glory when we cannot have it for ourselves. We have to be reminded, sometimes frequently, that the glory belongs to Him alone.

So I pray for my kids. That they’ll learn these lessons early. That they’ll approach life humbly, and with great appreciation for the blessings that carry them each day. I pray that they’ll learn from my life that chasing after God may entail heartache and trial, but it will always produce God’s glory and our greatest joy.

And in typing that, I think I understand why I came to my purpose so late: in order to show my children what it means to live that way.

To God be the glory.