“All aspects of Jesus’ presence to us are the same as of any other person; but they work together very differently. When I hear the gospel, I am addressed with the implicit or explicit claim that it is Jesus with whom I have to do. When I say I do not see him, that our communion lacks an object on one side, I am referred to the objectivity of the speaking and hearing community. If I then suppose that “Jesus” is here just a label for the community he founded, I am corrected and referred to the historical personage. And when I then ask how these two—the objectivity of the community and the historically objective Jesus—can be the same, the answer is that the gospel address, in which all these realities appear, is an eschatological promise and therefore beyond the divisions and incompletions of time,” (48).

In other words, Jesus really is present with the community gathered round him (and inseparably so). He is present with us as we are present with one another and yet as one who is distinct from our “one another”. And because the gospel is an eschatological (a present reality with a future fulfillment) proclamation and promise these two realities (Jesus’ presence in the objective community and his own historically objective body) must be held in tension.

This is helpful for me at least because I am often left feeling as if Jesus doesn’t really bother with us. The historical disconnect between Jesus’ life 2000 years ago and our life today is a real disconnect and yet there is something truer still, so that we can proclaim Christ’s presence with us. Christ is truly present with us as we bother with one another and allow others to bother with us. Christ is truly present with us as we eat the bread and drink the wine and as we are washed in the waters of baptism.

This is similar talk that you might here nowadays from particular (conservative?) Christian circles. Exceedingly, the emphasis is placed on the family unit (for example). What is needed is a focus on the family. A properly ordered family will lead to a properly ordered society (for example). The purpose of life, “is lived out first within our own families then extended, in love, to an increasingly broken world that desperately needs Him.”

To be sure I have a family. I love my family. I think family is important. My goal here is not to detract from the family. No, I think that Jesus and other New Testament figures do a better job of that than I. Consider some of the following sayings of Jesus:

“Do not think that I came to bring peace on the earth; I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I came to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; and a man’s enemies will be the members of his household. He who loves father or mother more than Me is not worthy of Me; and he who loves son or daughter more than Me is not worthy of Me. And he who does not take his cross and follow after Me is not worthy of Me. He who has found his life will lose it, and he who has lost his life for My sake will find it,” (Mt. 10:34-39).

“While He was still speaking to the crowds, behold, His mother and brothers were standing outside, seeking to speak to Him. Someone said to Him, “Behold, Your mother and Your brothers are standing outside seeking to speak to You.” But Jesus answered the one who was telling Him and said, “Who is My mother and who are My brothers?” And stretching out His hand toward His disciples, He said, “Behold My mother and My brothers! For whoever does the will of My Father who is in heaven, he is My brother and sister and mother,” (Mt. 12:46-50).

Who does Jesus consider his “mother and brothers”? “Whoever does the will of My Father who is in heaven.” In contrast to this, John tells us that, “not even His brothers were believing in Him,” (7:5). Family within the kingdom is not necessarily the same as family in light of the world.

See also Paul’s letter to Philemon. Speculation about the relation between Philemon and Onesimus aside, Paul writes to Philemon, “for perhaps he was for this reason separated from you for a while, that you would have him back forever, no longer as a slave, but more than a slave, a beloved brother,” (v.15-16).

Remember Aristotle and the structured Greek society? Each member had a role that they simply had to play. Well, Paul speaking to this very world, proclaims that, “there is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free man, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ,” (Gal. 3:28). In the kingdoms of Greece and Rome there may very well have been structured roles to play. However, in this new kingdom, in God’s kingdom, all of the roles that would generally serve to separate folks are done away with, “for you are all one in Christ.”

Further, each role in society came with certain expectations. In Romans 13 Paul seemingly plays into this: “Every person is to be in subjection to the governing authorities,” (13:1). Wayne Meeks argues in The Moral World of the First Christians that the ruling class in these days literally made up 1% of the population (we are the 99%, anyone?!). Paul continues on and it seems that he is arguing for this sort of structure in society: “Render to all what is due them: tax to whom tax is due; custom to whom custom; fear to whom fear; honour to whom honour,” (13:7, emphasis mine). But then he goes on: “Owe nothing to anyone except to love one another,” (13:8, emphasis mine).

So wait, what do we owe people? Tax? Custom? Fear? Honour? Nothing? Love? For Paul (in his own subversive way), as for Jesus, it would seem that this new society is founded on something other than societal and familial roles. “For you are all one in Christ.” This is a society in which the nature of Philemon’s relationship with Onesimus is forever altered—no longer slave, but dear brother. This is a society in which we are to, “owe nothing to anyone except to love one another.” This is a society based on what we might call friendship. And it is thus, as Wayne Meeks argues, that the earliest Christians were ridiculed as not only pagans but as those who were out to destroy the family.

I believe what I write, or rather, by writing I learn to believe. But then I do not put much stock in “believing in God.” The grammar of “belief” invites a far too rationalistic account of what it means to be a Christian. “Belief” implies propositions about which you get to make up your mind before you know the work they are meant to do. Does that mean I do not believe in God? Of course not, but I am far more interested in what a declaration of belief entails for how I live my life.

It may be that I am not that interested in “belief” because God is just not “there” for me. God is “there” for some. God is there for Paula, my wife; for Timothy Kimbrough, the rector of Holy Family Episcopal Church; for Sam Wells, my friend. But God is not there for me in the same way. Prayer never comes easy for me. I am not complaining. I assume this to be God’s gift to help me think hard about what it means to worship God in a world where God is no longer simply “there.”

Charles Taylor has characterized “our age” as one of “exclusive humanism.” God is a “hypothesis” most people no longer need – and “most people” includes those who say they believe in God. Indeed, when most people think it “important” that they believe in God, you have an indication that the God they believe in cannot be the God who raised Jesus from the dead or Israel from Egypt.

…

I do think that the first task of the church is to make the world the world. That means, of course, that I need all the help I can get to recognize that I am “world.” But I sometimes worry that my stress on the “Christian difference” may be my attempt to overcompensate for my lack of “faith.” That still does not seem to get the matter right. It is not that I lack faith, but that I always have the sense that I am such a beginner when it comes to knowing how to be a Christian.

“How” is the heart of the matter for me. When I first read Kierkegaard, I was quite taken with his suggestion that the “what” of Christianity is not the problem. It is the “how.” I have spent many years trying to say that we cannot understand the “what” of Christianity without knowing “how” to be Christian. Yet then I worry about the how of my own life.

10. Metals, Feist.

This chick is dope. ‘Nuff said.

9. Bad As Me, Tom Waits.

It’s unimaginable to me how anyone can listen to a Tom Waits record all the way through without a stiff drink in hand (preferably whiskey, scotch, or some sort of blend).

8. The King Of Limbs, Radiohead.

Then again, Radiohead could put out an album of complete silence and I’d love it. John Cage.

7. Allen Stone, Allen Stone.

The only reason this dude is so low on the list is because I only heard of him about a month ago (and I’ve listened to the album almost daily since then).

6. Father, Son, Holy Ghost, Girls.

Just heard of these guys for the first time this year and I likey. Listen to the track, you’ll see.

5. The Whole Love, Wilco.

Another solid album. Seriously, can these Chicagoans make a bad album?

4. Burst Apart, The Antlers.

I liked Hospice but I loved Burst Apart. I listened to this album countless evenings on the porch this summer and saw them live at the Mod Club. Good show!

3. Watch The Throne, Jay & Kanye.

Niggas in Paris. “Psycho, I’m liable, to go Michael / take your pick, Jackson, Tyson, Jordan, Game 6.” UGH!

2. David Comes To Life, Fucked Up.

Two words: Rock Opera.

1. Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming, M83.

“When I heard this album I went insane!” – Actual Person.

I have a thing for opening lines in a book, and I thought the first paragraph of this one was great.

I did not intend to be “Stanley Hauerwas.” I am aware, however, that there is someone out there who bears that name. Stanley Hauerwas is allegedly famous. How can a theologian, particularly in our secular age, be famous? If theologians become famous in times like ours, surely they must have betrayed their calling. After all, theology is a discipline whose subject should always put in doubt the very idea that those who practice it know what they are doing.

Classic!

(This is most certainly one of the most important rules!)

In light of the season I thought I’d post a few of my favourite carols/hymns from this time of year. I want to start with my favourite, Come Thou Fount Of Every Blessing. This hymn was written in 1757 by a young English pastor and hymnist named Robert Robinson, at the age of only 22 (geez, what was I doing at 22?!).

See the video below, a live rendition by Sufjan Stevens followed by the lyrics (so you can follow along while you watch, duh).

Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount, I’m fixed upon it,
Mount of Thy redeeming love.

Here I raise my Ebenezer;
Hither by Thy help I’m come;
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home.
Jesus sought me when a stranger,
Wandering from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger,
Interposed His precious blood.

O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be!
Let that grace now like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.

I’m not sure why exactly this is my favourite hymn for the season. I think though, it’s because it has so much to do with God and so little to do with us (unlike much of what passes for praise/worship music these days). We call that grace.

Grace isn’t easy though. It’s very difficult, I think because it means admitting that there is absolutely nothing we can do to merit or deserve anything from the one true God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. But we so desperately like to think there is something we can do. Some action or word that can give us some sort of meritorious standing before God (or that we’ve already earned it simply by being good folks). To this grace says, ‘no’.

The fact that our hearts and minds are turned inwards and downwards (as T.F. Torrance might put it) by sin only makes this matter all the more difficult and our need for grace all the more pressing. In this hymn, we begin with the words, “Tune my heart to sing Thy grace.” Then again, “Teach me some melodious sonnet.” What? You mean my heart cannot “sing Thy grace,” all by itself? You mean I don’t already know the words to this “melodious sonnet”? Not an easy pill to swallow, for most. No, indeed, our hearts need to be tuned. We need to be taught how to sing. And just how are our hearts tuned? How do we learn the words? I think, by allowing the unceasing streams of mercy to flood our hearts and minds so that “songs of loudest praise” are called forth.

Oh what grace, that tunes our hearts and teaches us to sing. Indeed, may we recognize and daily confess our debt to such grace so that our wandering hearts may be bound to Christ Jesus our Lord.

Amen.

But, the final word has already been spoken about human creatures and to human creatures and that final word is Christ Jesus. On the resurrection of Jesus, T.F. Torrance says:

“Thus the resurrection means that the Word which God sent forth in creation, and sent forth in a new way in the incarnation, did not return void but accomplished what it was sent to do. In creation and the affirmation of creation, in recreation and the finalising of creation, the resurrection is the establishing of the creature in a reality that does not crumble away into the dust or degenerate into nothingness or slip into the oblivion of the past. This is a reality that arises and endures, for it is positively and faithfully grounded in its own ultimate source of reality in God,” (Atonement, 239).

The last word has already been spoken.

Or, as Torrance says, the resurrection is the actualisation of human reality, the humanizing in Jesus of dehumanized man. Humanity in Christ is the creation God made it to be and may not now cease to be what it is (239).

During this season of Advent, may we remember the coming of this Word into the world, made flesh. And, may we long for the day when this Word will come again to fully and finally usher in the kingdom of God. Until then, may we live in this world but play by the rules of that future world which has already begun to dawn. For that final word has already been spoken. It is already real.

Amen.

“The defining matter of the church’s life is not to convert and bring people to faith (the evangelical heresy!) or to bring in the ethical commonwealth (the liberal heresy!). The defining matter for the church’s life, for which the church exists, is to bear witness to Jesus Christ. He, not we, converts people and brings in the reign of God,” (p.132).

To some visitors of this blog that may not be anything new but for others it may very well be (particularly depending on what sort of circles you grew up in and spend time in). The “bearing witness to Jesus Christ” bit requires much theological reflection and wrestling and can often be a point of contention.

Anyways, there you have it. Don’t get it twisted!

What say you?

The new covenant, is generally understood by Christians to mean a renewed covenant between God and human creatures which is not based on the law but on the gospel. To remain faithful to this covenant from the human end of the deal means then to accept Jesus and to live accordingly. However, what many of us fail to recognize is that Jesus isn’t simply the mediator of new covenant (although he is that), Jesus is the new covenant, and he is so for us.

In other words, both the promises and the commands of the covenant are fulfilled in Christ. The following quote from T.F. Torrance puts it quite beautifully:

“That covenant is fulfilled in Jesus Christ, for in him God’s faithfulness realizes his will for his people. The promises of the covenant are fulfilled in him, in the ultimate gift of God’s very self to man; the commands of the covenant are fulfilled in him, in the obedience of the son of man. This realization of the covenant will and faithfulness of God in Christ is atonement – atonement in its fullest sense embracing the whole incarnate life and work of Christ. It involves the self-giving of God to man and the assuming of man into union with God, thus restoring the broken communion between man and God. It involves the fulfillment of the divine judgement on the sin of humanity and the removal of that obstacle or barrier of sin between God and humanity, but that barrier is removed precisely by the complete fulfillment of the covenant, in which God kept faith and truth with humanity in its sin by its complete judgement – therefore it is in this complete judgement alone that men and women can be justified before God and have a just and true place in the covenant-communion with God. That whole work of atonement, of establishing covenant communion, Christ fulfilled in himself, by incarnation and atonement. He fulfilled it in himself as mediator, God and man in one person, acting from the side of God as God and from the side of man as man,” (Atonement, 9).