The Heresy of Wonder-less Theology

May 15, 2012

I wonder sometimes if the greatest problem facing the modern church is a lack of wonder.

When we were kids, all kinds of experiences brought wonder. Our first trip to the zoo filled us with wonder. The stick-figured, long-necked giraffe was fantastic; the bloated barrel-shaped hippopotamus was delightful (even the name hippopotamus was enchanting); and the shuffling, tuxedo-clad penguin was wonderful.

As teenagers, we became jaded; we lost our wonder. We’d already been to the zoo. “Big deal!” We’d already learned to ride a bike. “Who cares!”

Science’s turn

Science comes along and steals more wonder. It takes the human body, dissects it, and “explains” life with cold, clinical detachment. In talking about the meaning of life, one scientist wrote,

In reality there are no such things as human rights…. All we know is we are part of nature and there is no scientific basis whatsoever for thinking we are better than all the rest of it…. We have no more basic rights than viruses. (Robert Jarvic, Inventor of the artificial heart)

That’ll really get you up in the morning, won’t it?

The church and wonder

In the Roman Empire, Christianity grew largely through wonder. Downtrodden slaves were given the wonder of Sonship; oppressed minorities were shown the wonder of Freedom; widows, orphans, and the poor were offered the wonder of Hope.

Like jaded teenagers, though, the modern church has lost its sense of wonder.

Most preaching today teaches moralism or abstract doctrine. (And like the chicken and the egg, we’re not sure which comes first.) Conservatives teach us to be good little boys and girls, and Liberals preach tolerance. I recently heard two sermons on the Fruit of the Spirit. The Conservative pastor concluded with, “Go out and be good;” and the Liberal ended with, “Go out and Coexist.”

This is not the preaching that grew the early church. Imagine telling an oppressed Roman slave, “I have incredible news that will revolutionize the rest of your life: Just don’t be selfish!” Or the Liberal version, “I know your master oppresses you, but I have something that will rock your world: Tolerate those who differ from you!”

Neither Conservatives nor Liberals preach wonder anymore. And then we “wonder” why the church has so little impact on the world around us.

Abstract, impersonal doctrine fails as well. So much is theoretical or informational. I once heard a sermon that conjugated the Greek verb agape. It was technically correct. We took notes like good little students. If tested, we would have answered correctly.

And at the end of the sermon I wanted to say, “So what!” and to ask, “What does that have to do with my life?”

Imagine a first-century, childless widow with barely two pennies to rub together. We say, “I have a something that will transform your poverty into riches: Here is the conjugation of agape.” No! Abstract theory didn’t change the Roman world.

Frankly, cerebral Christianity gives me a headache.

So what did Jesus do that was different?

The preaching of Jesus always went beyond mere morality or abstract theory. When Jesus taught morality, the listeners were astounded (Matt. 19:25) and when Jesus taught doctrine, the listeners were scandalized (John 6:61). Nobody said, “So what!” nor did they ask, “What does this have to do with my life?” They may not have liked it, they may have been angry; but Jesus always left them wondering.

Sure, but heresy?

Addressing the Will (moralism) produces proud Pharisees. Addressing the Intellect (abstract doctrine) establishes arrogant eggheads. Awakening the heart with wonder creates humble believers. Wonder leads to adoration, and adoration leads to worship of the One who gave up all for the joy of knowing us. And worship creates humility

Only wonder will change our behavior, our beliefs, and our hearts.

Near the end of The Lord of the Rings, Éowyn faces a hulking, Goliath-like Nazgûl. It threatens to, “bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured, and thy shriveled mind be left naked to the Lidless Eye.”

Éowyn responds, “Do what you will; but I will hinder it, if I may.”

Merry, the little Hobbit, sees Éowyn ready to die out of love for her king, and, “Pity filled his heart and great wonder, and suddenly the slow-kindled courage of his race awoke. He clenched his fist.”

That is what we need, “great wonder.” When we see Jesus not simply dying for another but for us—even as we disobey his commands and disbelieve his truth—then we will wonder. In our wonder, we’ll clench our fists, we’ll find belief in our hearts, and we’ll delight to do his will.

So what came first, the chicken or the egg? Neither. It was great wonder.

© Copyright 2012, Beliefs of the Heart. All rights reserved.

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Imagination, Intimacy, and Hearing God

May 1, 2012

I’m discovering that meditation is one of the most powerful ways to hear God. No, “powerful” isn’t a strong enough word. Meditation may be the most profound, deep, life-changing, heart-enriching way to hear God.

But there is a problem. I picture meditation—maybe you do too— as something kind of weird. It’s a person dressed in leotards sitting in an awkward position humming nonsensical syllables, emptying the mind, thinking of “one hand clapping.” It’s the mystic or the desert monk escaping from reality. It seems totally disconnected from real life.

But everyone is a meditation expert. We meditate all the time. We don’t know it because we call it something else, and we slip into it accidentally.

We all imagine.

Every day every conscious human imagines–the business tycoon and the homeless person, the New York poet and the Himalayan shepherd. Everyone imagines.

We paint pictures in our mind of what life would be like “if” or what we’ll do “when.” “What will I do after I graduate from college; wouldn’t it be fun to have a horse; wouldn’t it be cool if that girl would date me?” In spare moments scattered through the day, we imagine.

Our imagining is a type of meditation. It is a concentrated thinking on a particular subject. It’s “seeing” in our mind’s eye.

Imaging creates Intimacy

The best imagining is often shared imaging with a friend. Fiancés imagine life after marriage; tired spouses imagine a vacation by the sea; software programmers imagine creating the next best selling iPad App. We love to share our mind’s eye with someone else; it connects our hearts through shared inner images. It creates intimacy.

It’s also possible to imagine while in conversation with God. God shares an image with us, and we share our hearts’ desires with God. We connect our hearts to God in this prayerful, conversational imagining. It creates intimacy with God, sharing our heart.

Imagining fuels longing

Our problem is not in learning to meditate; no, our problem is the subject we choose for our meditation. Imagining increases longing. That’s why pornography is so addictive. Paul wrote, “To set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace” (Rom. 8:6).

Our intentional imagining is one way we “set our mind” on something. Sustained imagining on earthly things—a new car, a new dress, a job promotion, sex without commitment—increases our desires for those things. But these things do not bring life. They fail to satisfy the deepest longings of the heart.

Setting our minds—and this includes intentional imagining—on spiritual things increases our longing for them, such as knowing God’s love, hearing God’s voice, and intimacy with Christ. And these bring deep, soul satisfaction.

So how can we set our minds on the Spirit?

It’s easy to slip into imaging things of the flesh because we have so many external pressures. These external pressures often spark our minds to imagine solutions. We work long hours so we imagine a vacation; our car breaks down, again, so we imagine a new problem-free car. Our external pressures give us many topics for meditation.

In Christian meditation we let God choose the topic. Pick a passage and converse with God on his words through intentional imagining. Here are some possible passages:

  • Consider [imagine, meditate on] how wild flowers grow. They neither labor nor spin. Yet I tell you, even Solomon with all his splendor was not dressed like one of these (Luke 12:27).
  • The kingdom of heaven is like merchant [Jesus] seeking fine pearls. When he found that one pearl of incredible value [you], he went and sold all that he had and bought it (Matthew 13:45-46).
  • O God, my God; I eagerly seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry, weary land where there is no water. So I gaze upon you [imagine, meditate] … and my soul is satisfied as with a great feast … as I remember you upon my bed, and meditate on you in middle of the night (Ps 63).

We can set our minds on the Spirit as we let these word pictures fill our imagination. Consider these passages—picture yourself and God in them. Imagine them prayerfully in conversation with God, and God will speak exactly what you need to hear in your heart.

© Copyright 2012, Beliefs of the Heart. All rights reserved.

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To Be, or to Do, that is the question

April 24, 2012

God is speaking to me again—I resist this message—about Being before Doing. I mix them up. I bet you do too. It is so “natural” to work (do) those extra hours in order to feel (be) successful; or to “do” the dishes in order to “be” considered a good spouse.

Scripture doesn’t teach doing first; it teaches being first. We have to BE loved in order to DO love (1 John 4:19).

Despite knowing in my head that I need to “be” accepted first, I tend to believe in my heart that scripture is about my “doing” to get God to like me. It’s easy to read scripture like a Christian Aesop’s Fables, little stories that promote good behavior (doing). In other words, if I do these things I’ll be a good little boy (or girl).

This Aesop’s Fables view of scripture is so ingrained in my heart that any other interpretation of a passage feels heretical. Let’s look, for example, at the parable of the Treasure in a Field.

The treasure in a field

The kingdom of heaven is like great treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field (Matt. 13: 44).

My default interpretation of this parable creates a whirlwind of hope in my heart. It’s Blackbeard’s booty in exchange for my piggy bank. It is the investor’s ultimate fantasy.

It’s something for me to do. All I have to “do” is give up everything.

My problem—and I bet your problem too—is that I need motivation to do anything. The joy of the treasure motivates the man’s “everything must go” garage sale. So what treasure motivates me to “do” the giving up?

My motivation is usually psychological or spiritual. Psychologically, I feel good about myself when I give money to a needy friend; “I’m the kind of guy who is generous.” Spiritually, I feel that God will like me when I befriend (or at least I’m nice to) the man who slanders me behind my back; “I’m the kind of guy who loves his enemies.”

My doing is self-serving. I need to be rid of that self-centered nature in the “doing” that makes me feel good about myself.

But those selfish motivations are what inspire me to give things up. How can I give up the very motivations that empower me to give something up? It’s like emptying my gas tank in order to go to the gas station for a fill-up.

I’m “doing” to “be,” caring for the poor to gain self-respect and loving the gossiper to gain God-respect. These “doings” are the very things that give me a sense of the being. I can’t’ give THEM up.

But what if…

The kingdom of heaven is like—I don’t know about you, but the kingdom of heaven is certainly not “like” how I sell all that I have. At least, I hope not.

But what if the kingdom is like Jesus? Because he is the only person who ever gave up everything, wealth (you know, heaven!), relationships (with his Father), reputation, comfort, career … everything! The kingdom cannot be how we sell everything; it can only be an illustration of how Jesus did.

If Jesus is the one selling everything, then we are his treasure, we are his joy. Hebrews says, “for the joy [that’s us!] set before him,” he gave up … everything (Heb. 12:2).

The bible is filled with these word-pictures of what we mean to God:

  • The Lord your God has chosen you out of all the peoples on the face of the earth to be his people, his treasured possession” (Deut.7:6).
  • They shall be Mine, says the Lord, in that day when I make up my jewels. (Mal. 3:17).
  • For the LORD’S portion is his people… (Deut. 32.9).
  • We are the “riches of his glorious inheritance.” Eph. 1:18

Stop for a moment—yeah, right now—look away from the computer, and imagine being the Ultimate Being’s treasured possession (the thing he loves above all other possessions), his jewels, his portion, and his inheritance (the thing he longs to inherit).

It almost feels too good be true that we are his treasuer. Swirl that around in your mouth like a fine wine. Taste his joy in us his treasure. Doesn’t that fill that empty spot?

We are his treasure.

Admit with me, it seems heretical to believe that the Treasure in a Field is a picture of what Jesus did. No! Something inside wants to say the parable is about what I must do. I must deny myself; I must crucify the flesh; I must take up my cross. Me. Me. Me.

When I come to believe that God sees me as his treasure buried in a field (and yes, that treasure sure is buried under a bunch of dirt), then I don’t need to grasp for my self-justification. I already am a treasure and a joy. I don’t need to strive for it. I can “be.”

And now I can safely do

Once my heart believes God’s love for me—his delight and his joy in me—then I can safely give up all else, and now no longer out of selfishness. The joy in my motivation is gratitude and delight in his love. Now I can take up my cross with joy.

Shakespeare wrote, “To be, or not to be, that is the question.” He was wrong. Rather, “To Be, or to Do, that is the question.”

I’m learning to “be” his treasure, and therefore I can “do” giving up with joy.

© Copyright 2012, Beliefs of the Heart. All rights reserved.

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Christianity: Will-Power or Desire-Power?

April 17, 2012

I know a man, a really good man, whose life is filled with drudgery. He dutifully cares for his wife and family; he dutifully pours out his life in service; and he dutifully attends to work. He resists opposing desires—like wanting to dodge a service he hates, or aching to “take it easy”—with willpower.

His life, he feels, is dull and empty. His life, he says, is “dreariness and doldrums; I go through the motions without a purpose.” Drudgery has been his life for years. He is joyless.

The driving force of his life—that which gets him out of bed each morning—is willpower, his determination to battle contrary desires. His joyless obligations rule his heart.

I feel sorry for him and his life of dreariness and drudgery. And, yes, he is a Christian. His joyless life unfortunately reflects the lives of many believers. It’s why many nonbelievers don’t like Christianity. They don’t want our dull life. They don’t want to become like us.

Yikes! The gospel is meant to be a transforming power of joy. What has happened to us?

Desires and the unexamined life (bear with me here)

Socrates said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” (Thank you, Michele.)

Many embrace lives of passion, longing for freedom from rules and restriction, freedom to follow any desire. But unexamined desires fester. Desires become cravings, and cravings become addictions. Soon the desired pleasure is beyond reach, and the cravings become masters. Not wanting to be “slaves to rules” they become slaves—literally—to desires.

All because of unexamined desires. There is a world of desires beneath our desires, something we want even more. We need to examine what we most deeply want. G. K. Chesterton said, “Every man who knocks on the door of a brothel is looking for God.”

But Christians today—for the most part—are taught to live from will not desire.

Will and the unexamined life

Socrates’ comment equally applies to the “wills” of men and women. They’re unexamined.

Many believers mistakenly use “will” as the primary weapon against desire. Failure to examine our “will” keeps us from digging deeper. “Will” focuses on behavior rather than motivation. Tim Keller writes,

Religion operates on the principle: I obey; therefore I am accepted (by God). The gospel operates on the principle: I am accepted through the costly grace of God; therefore I obey. Two people operating on these two principles can sit beside each other in church on Sunday trying to do many of the same things—read the Bible, obey the Ten Commandments, be active in church, and pray—but out of two entirely different motivations. (Emphasis added)

Using “will” to avoid bad desires is good in the short term but it fails in the long term; we need to examine what is beneath our “will.” Stopping our self examination at willpower masks something deeper.

The most common word for “will” in the New Testament is thelo.  It can also be translated “desire.” That’s because will and deep desires are hard to separate. We skip the second scoop of ice cream due to will, but that will is closely connected to a desire to take two inches off our waist. The strongest desire wins, sometimes our yearning for ice cream and sometimes our longing to be lean.

Pharisees also used “will” to battle outer desires of the flesh, but that “will” was tied to inner desires for pride, reputation, and self justification; it was still based on bad desires.

We need to examine our will, for unexamined reliance on will can be dangerous. If we primarily use “will” to create behavior, we miss the motivations of the heart. Good external behavior can come from good desires and from bad desires.

Joy and desires

Pleasure comes from a desire that is placated. Joy comes from the deepest desires of the heart that are satisfied. Living in the shallow desires of sensuality brings some pleasure, but it is short lived and doesn’t deeply satisfy.

Coming to know the deepest desires of the heart—literally to know and be loved by God—brings deep satisfying joy. Keller also wrote, “The gospel moves you to do what you do more and more out of grateful joy in … God himself.”

Joy and Christianity

My friend (from the beginning of the article), who lives a dull life of drudgery, uses will to avoid shallow desires, but he also avoids any desires. To find deep joy, yes, we control shallow desires, but deep joy comes from actual fulfillment of our deepest desires.

In the end, the best “will” is choosing to live out the renewed heart’s deepest desires.

John Newton wrote this about the joy-filled believer’s heart:

Our pleasure and our duty,
Though opposite before,
Since we have seen his beauty,
Are joined to part no more.

When we begin to see the beauty of Christ and all he does for us, our duty and our pleasure—our will and our desire—become one.

Willpower alone leads to the joyless drudgery of restriction; desire-power leads to the joyful fulfillment of God-given desires of the heart. It leads to real Freedom.

© Copyright 2012, Beliefs of the Heart. All rights reserved.

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How Does God View Us?

April 10, 2012

There’s a story about the artist Michelangelo who passed by a block of marble somewhere. He stopped transfixed and said, “I see an angel in there. Quick, bring me my chisel.”

This story illustrates how God sees his children.

Many believers I know primarily see the unfinished parts of their lives. It doesn’t matter if we are in grade school, High School, College, or in middle age. We see the things we don’t like, and we focus on the unfulfilled desires. We see the marble not the sculpture.

It’s like we are looking at our future lives through the wrong end of a telescope, everything we want to be seems really far away.

God, on the other hand, is looking at us through the other side of the telescope. He sees our future today, everything that we most deeply want to be, everything God desires for us. He sees all that now.

Just like Michelangelo.

God sees our future today, and he’s chiseling away at all that superfluous stuff that’s not us. At times that chisel may hurt a bit, but it’s just chipping away all the flakes that hide what he’s purposed us to be.

This truth is reality. God sees us today as the person he is making us to become tomorrow.

This is not something new.

It happened all the time in the bible.

  • God said, “Abraham never wavered in his faith” (Rom. 4:20). And yet Abraham disobeyed God and fled to Egypt; while there he lies to Pharaoh about his wife; and later he doubts God’s promise by trying to fulfill it himself. And yet God says Abraham never wavered. God saw the finished product while we see the work in process.
  • Gideon was scared to death of the Midianites; we first see Gideon cowering in the corner of a cave. The angel of God says, “The Lord is with you, O mighty man of valor” (Jud. 6:12). God saw a warrior in that block of cowardly marble.
  • And of course you remember David. He commits adultery, covers it up, and murders a best friend. Of him God says, “I have found David son of Jesse, a man after my own heart; he will do everything I want him to do” (Acts 13:22). What did God see that we don’t?

Okay. So what?

What we believe about God determines how we live. The serpent’s strategy with Eve was to corrupt what she believed about God. He told her that God didn’t have her best interests in mind; God was keeping her down. Eve believed the serpent, and doubted God’s love, and she acted. The rest of human history has been a story of violence, oppression, and betrayal.

All because of a person’s belief about God.

Our perception of God’s view of us reveals a belief about God. It is a belief about the nature of God. If we believe God is a harsh taskmaster, we will live our lives under the dark shadow of trying to avoid him. We’ll try to hide our faults from God and others; and we’ll even try to hide them from ourselves.

But.

When we begin to believe God is a loving parent who desires the best for us, we begin to relax, and we find peace. We see him as the Master sculptor, shaping us into the people we were designed to be. He’s chipping away the false us. He’s unveiling the real us.

He’s creating a work of art.

The various trials of life take on a new perspective. We now perceive the tests of God as his way of bringing us freedom from the stones that weigh us down; they make us into art.

We also begin to see others differently. Instead of seeing all the ways others fail to live up to the harsh taskmaster, we begin to see the person inside that block of marble. We root for them. We hope for them. We long for their freedom. We begin to love them more.

Our choice.

So here is the deal. We can choose to believe the real “us” is what we see today—like one of those many unfinished projects we started and will never finish, or we can choose to believe our real person is already seen by the Master Artist who is just polishing off the bits and pieces that conceal the real us.

© Copyright 2012, Beliefs of the Heart. All rights reserved.

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Hearing God and Reflection

April 3, 2012

Thirty years ago I lived and worked in London with several other men. We were involved in campus ministry and the charismatic renewal. One housemate—let’s call him Tom—spent a couple hours in discussion with Rev. John Stott. When Tom returned from his visit, he was incredulous.

During Tom’s meeting, they discussed prayer. Stott claimed that his most significant times of prayer involve prayerful reflection with God. As a charismatic, Tom preferred exuberant worship with contemporary songs and praying in the Spirit.

We considered Stott’s “prayer” of reflection to be too intellectual, too shallow, too unenlightened, and perhaps unspiritual. We chuckled.

In fact, I’d say we snickered.

By the end of his life, Time Magazine identified Stott as one of the 100 most influential people in the world; he had written over 50 books; and he had helped hundreds of thousands—perhaps millions—of people. And we twenty-something neophytes snickered at his shallowness.

Thirty years later, I’m rethinking spiritual reflection, and I’m finding it rich. Stott was oh-so-very right, and I—once again—was oh-so-very wrong. Spiritual reflection is one of the deepest ways to connect with God that I’ve ever experienced.

I love to brainstorm, to whiteboard ideas, and to creatively go after innovative thoughts. I love doing this with friends for practical decisions, so I tried it with God.

I find I love it. Spiritual reflection is moving me closer to God, and I’m hearing his voice.

What’s the point?

Dallas Willard once wrote that a huge problem for all humans—believers or not—is our denial of reality. We live in shallow realities while denying or ignoring deep realities.

The primary purpose of prayerful reflection is to connect with God deep in our hearts. C. S. Lewis said that we are content to play in mud puddles while God invites us to the seashore. Prayerful reflection is a visit to the coast. And Jesus loves to speak to us at the beach.

The solid external world seems more real to us than our intangible inner life; our external senses seem more alive than our inner senses. I “see” the reality of stains on the carpet; I “hear” the grind of the garbage truck; I “feel” the soreness in my bad knee. They seem more tangible than the elusive inner life of God’s love and presence.

It’s like our reality merely consists of our five physical senses. They are on video while our inner life with God is on audio.

Most prayers consist of: Asking (Could you help me with my test tomorrow?), Worship (God, you are so great!), Thanksgiving (Thanks for the food), and Repentance (Please forgive me for snapping at my kids). These prayers are great. But they are one sided monologues, us saying something to God.

Discussion and Connection

Prayerful reflection is like discussion, a connection to a friend. There is back and forth, questions and answers, clarification and interpretation. It is a personal, conversational connection to God, the Ultimate Reality.

Prayerful reflection requires curiosity and a heightened personal awareness. We become aware of an inner anger at a negative comment, and in curiosity we ask God about it. Our curiosity is not satisfied with shallow answers like, “I’m angry because they said something negative about me.”

Of course comments may trigger anger, but why do the opinions of others matter so much? We ask God, and he speaks. He says that their opinion is more “real” to us than his own. And then God offers a heart sense of his reality, and our hearts are calmed.

Questions and Reflection

With increased inner awareness and in curiosity we go to God with questions, like,

  • I’ve read this passage a hundred times, but this time something quickened in my heart; God what is that quickening about?
  • I just watched a movie and during the ending I began to tear up; God, what about that ending is moving me?
  • I’m feeling anxious about my children; God, why do I think you are less concerned for them than I am?
  • God, what does it really mean that you love me?

Here’s the thing: when we go to God in prayerful reflection it empowers our ability to Ask, Worship, Thank, and Repent. Let’s look at that anger. As we discuss this with God—as we practice prayerful reflection—God speaks, and all of a sudden we,

  • Ask: God, may the magnitude of your majesty eclipse the opinion of man.
  • Worship: As I see the beauty of your reality, I am moved to adore you.
  • Thanksgiving: Thank you God for your opinion and care for me.
  • Repentance: I repent that the molehill of human opinion overshadows the mountain of your greatness.

Prayerful reflection is a conversation with God that connects us to ultimate realities, the reality of a relationship with the person of God.

One of the greatest lessons in hearing God that I’m learning is to prayerfully reflect. Try it; you’ll like it.

Hey! Did I just hear someone snicker?

****************

For more on hearing God, see Hearing God and Controlling the Conversation, and Hearing God and Making Decisions.

© Copyright 2012, Beliefs of the Heart, Ltd. All rights reserved.

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