“…life should still feel a bit more like chaos. It should feel more like the downside of the roller coaster. The life of faith flips the stomach. The Trinity is the God of surprises. Asses talk; water catches fire; the sun reverses; demons cry. And the God-man unhinges all of medicine by walking out of His tomb. Christ holds everything together, but He’s known for living on pinnacles. He doesn’t like to tell us the end of our stories. He’s teaching us how to live in the Trinity.”

Art: Brooklyn Museum – Jesus Carried up to a Pinnacle of the Temple (Jésus porté sur le pinacle du Temple) – James Tissot

or Calling Security

NOTE: THIS POST HAS BEEN REMIXED AND INCLUDED IN GOD’S KITCHEN.

Years ago, I remember a preacher listing for his audience all the sins that will make you prematurely old. I figured the second part of his sermon to us would be a list of all the benefits of Christian living that keep you young. Well, they are obvious. Don’t tick the boxes in list one. Very wisely, that’s not what he gave us. He listed all the things the Lord expects of us, things that also make us prematurely old. His point was, grow old doing good, not evil.

Tying this to Jordan’s Bread and Wine theology, we understand that bread is made to be broken. Proud young men and women (as we were when I heard that sermon on growing old) won’t stay that way. They will be broken. But one life offered can feed five thousand.

The media sells us a lifestyle of security. This is not biblical prudence. It is paranoia, a worldview without faith, where God and His people cannot be counted on to come to the rescue. The Bible is full of leaders and institutions who pulled back from being broken. God has no pleasure in them. It is the Tabernacle of Lamech, the Temple of the Herods, a hoarded bread that God fills with worms. Bread is not eternal. It is expendable.

Worldly dreams will be shattered. Christ calls us beyond that, to an expectation that we will be broken and poured out. In fact, He calls us to look for opportunities to become prematurely old, to lay down our lives for the next generation. We understand this of parenting. Do we understand this of discipling others?

I’m not talking about pastor’s burnout. Paul knew how to disciple and delegate. Discipleship was a buffer against burnout. For sure, he had his failures, and he excommunicated them to bring about repentance. I’m talking about being a human shield, as Jesus was, standing between the curse and the cursed.

Adam’s sin, as a proud young man with faculties even our most gifted youths can only dream about, was believing that he wasn’t expendable. The single Law called him to be broken under it when tested. He seized a false security instead of becoming security. He was to be a priestly guard, a human firmament, a watchman, cut by the Word to create a safe place, a Holy Place. His failure made us into slaves. As Doug Jones observes, the next question for everyone who is redeemed, in every possible station of life known to human beings, is “Whose freedom are you?”

Calculated risks are the order of the day. As with the Christian life, we don’t set out to build a tower without adequate preparation and prudence. In parenting, in discipleship, we plant with an expectation, not a guarantee, of an increase. My point is that life in the flesh is expendable. Whatever we choose to spend it on, it will be spent. That is its very nature. It was never supposed to last, not even in Eden. The natural would become spiritual. But the path to glory, to security for others (those in the house) and spiritual offspring (bringing in those outside the house), is expensive.

As a perceptive pastor once said, “If you want to be a highway into the kingdom for other people, don’t be surprised when you get walked on.” And as my grandfather said, “The trials of life will make you bitter or better.” Either way, you are food.

“And I will very gladly spend and be spent for your souls;
though the more abundantly I love you, the less I am loved.”
2 Cor 12:15

The world sells us on youth and security, the glory of fresh bread somehow kept in suspended animation. But the world doesn’t even believe the lie, not in the end, when the eulogies are read. When there is no reason to lie any more, even the world recognizes lives spent in such an honorable way.

“Cast your bread upon the waters, For you will find it after many days.”
Ecclesiastes 11:1

Amongst all the recent calls to be “radical,” security is actually good. That question, “Whose freedom are you?” helps us to discern between the guilt trips and the true calls to service. God doesn’t call us all to live on the edge. There’s nothing wrong with living a life of quiet faithfulness and nurturing of others. We all have different gifts. Sometimes it takes more courage and strength to be non-radical. [1] Whether it’s being radical, or just teaching your kids the Bible and being faithful at work, at home and at church, the goal is a legacy in history for God.

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[1] See A Tale of Two Brothers.

A gripping sermon from Doug Jones in 2007. He contrasts unitarian and trinitarian worldviews.

For the unitarian, freedom is removing obstacles in the way of my destiny. I am my own master. “Hell is other people.” I end up a slave, alone in the void. For the trinitarian, it means removing obstacles for others. God is my Master, and His service is freedom. I am never alone. Freedom is found within the constraints of fellowship.

Doug covers a lot of ground, including how unitarianism has played out in Western society and U.S. foreign policy. It is well worth a listen.

Whose Freedom Are You?

Doug Jones writes:

In a Trinitarian world, violence doesn’t truly resolve things. Even in Old Covenant immaturity (Gal. 3:24) where violence seems to have a larger place than in the New, we find the Lord repeatedly denouncing violence: “The Lord tests the righteous, but the wicked and the one who loves violence His soul hates” (Ps. 11:5); “Wisdom is better than weapons of war” (Eccl. 9:18). “Violence covers them like a garment” (Ps. 73:6). “The mouth of the righteous is a well of life, but violence covers the mouth of the wicked” (Prov. 10:11). “But God said to me [David], ‘You shall not build a house for My name, because you have been a man of war and have shed blood’” (1 Chron. 28:3).

Then, of course, when redemptive history rises into its maturity, Christ presents a new world where violence loses its glamour. It’s interesting that we find the greater presumption against violence at that point in history where the Son and the Spirit reveal themselves in the fullness of Trinitarian life. “‘My kingdom is not of this world. If My kingdom were of this world, My servants would fight’” (John 18:36). “But I tell you not to resist an evil person” (Matt. 5:39). “He who lives by the sword will perish by the sword” (Matt. 26:52). “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and those who are great exercise authority over them. Yet it shall not be so among you” (Matt. 20:25). “Do not return evil for evil” (Rom. 12:17; 1 Pet. 3:9; 1 Thess. 5:15). “For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal but mighty” (2 Cor. 10:3–4).

That’s life in a Trinitarian universe. The greater the revelation of Trinitarian life, the further we move from violence. That’s not pacifism, since pacifism is absolutistic and has no sense of development. In a very important sense, God is the king of violence, and He reserves violence for Himself, largely forbidding it to the people of His new kingdom (Rom. 12:19).

…Violent solutions don’t really work or last in a Trinitarian universe. We get a great picture of this in Tolkien’s work, a work rich in character. There, violence plays a part, but in the end, violence is failing and the good are being overwhelmed in their desperate attempt at violence. What really counts is the triumph of divine weakness. Violence distracts the enemy from the mountain, where a hobbit finally drops the ring into the mountain furnace. That’s how a Christian universe operates. “My strength is made perfect in weakness.”

How Not To Watch A Film Like A Twelve-year-old

Whether you know it or not, as you flip through a magazine, or peruse a Christian bookstore, the big question on loop in your mind is “What’s in it for me?” In a culture where an advertiser or publisher has only seconds to grab your attention, there has to be a visual hook. Magazine articles hit us with one big photo, knowing that if they sell us with that, we’ll read the fine print. A book, right down to its spine, has to say “Pick me because…” For the world’s Vanity Fair hucksters, the aim is to wave a stunning flag at all costs. It doesn’t even have to be for the right country. Anything goes as long as they draw a crowd.

In a busy marketplace, Christian ads and books also need to be attractive and culturally relevant, but we too have begun to let the importance of the graphic design overpower or obscure the message.

As a designer, I love the Bible because it is filled with pictures. Every sentence is carefully crafted communication. No matter how obscure, poetic or just plain old weird Zechariah 5 might initially seem, it has a very pointy message. The images the Lord revealed were not only attention-grabbing, but also deep enough to be chewed on like good steak. With the Lord, a thousand words is as one picture. God designed a world full of mountains and fountains, gemstones and horses, symbols that communicate complex abstract truth with majestic simplicity. The prophets mined this planetful of objects because they have God-intended built-in connotations that don’t need re-explanation. Revelation communicates an enormous amount of information economically by loading a machine gun with familiar, borrowed capital. And it hits its target every time, unless of course we aren’t familiar with the capital! Shame on us.

Graphic designers know this. Images, typefaces and colors have distinct connotations in our culture. We know which colors to use to make you feel a certain way. Typefaces are also subliminally associated with certain types of messages. The average consumer doesn’t appreciate the amount of time spent choosing typefaces and colors for advertisements and corporate brands. The wavelength of the message is much wider than it often appears. You only notice it when it’s missing. That’s why office newsletters often look the way they do. Ew, and huh? It’s the print equivalent of crocodile shoes, a feather and a purple three-piece on an undertaker. Graphic designers, however, tend to fall off the other side of the horse. The presentation might be more tasteful, but the message is given second place. Why this trend? Is it our egos?

Despite having developed incredible means of communication, our culture really has very little to say. The choice is always style over substance. Beauty is everything, so we think movie stars have opinions worth listening to. A miracle of modern technology like an ipod is pumped full of disposable music and B-grade TV. We babble to fill the silence left by the departure of a very literate God. Advertising moves continually towards being art for art’s sake because there is no longer any new message. It has the basic, vacuous aim of just being seen in all the right places. The images can be abstracted from the message because-hey-I’ve-got-your-attention-now-and-that’s-all-that-matters-just-keep-looking-at-me. It doesn’t have to hit the target because it makes itself the target. Like abstract art, the response doesn’t matter so long as there is a response. Abstract art is subjective, that is, the artist produces something detached from reality so that the response to it is unpredictable. The more the art is detached from reality, the less predictable will be the ways people connect with it. The channel for the message becomes the message.

But unlike the world, we Christians DO have something to say, and it’s a matter of life and death. Even the visions in the Bible are built out of real, identifiable ‘things.’ The response matters. As symbol-makers like God, our artwork has to be totally objective, that is, it should be carefully crafted to carry the message and get the exact response required. Revelation works this way. The crystal walls of New Jerusalem have to be pure so the world can see Jesus enthroned inside. Sure, she’s a pretty city, but the bride of Christ points to Someone Else. There is a very definite response required to her beautiful gates. So, our art should not steal the attention from the message. Like the harlot in Revelation, the trappings of the Temple should not become an end in themselves. But what makes our art ‘Christian’? Are there any guidelines? Is Christian death-metal OK?

Doug Jones recently spoke about the Protestant cultural vision never lasting very long because it doesn’t get much past good doctrine on its way to good culture. In fact, it has often produced a generation of rebels who take the Spirit-endowed strength and health and head on back to Egypt for the cultural stimulation. Sure, we need to point out what’s sick and twisted about the symbols that naturally flow from those with a worldview gained from fairground mirrors. But we also need to be producing a new culture that flows from the ideals of the New Jerusalem, including art, architecture, and even comedy that bring life wherever they flow. Despite its flaws and excesses, this is one of the things the medieval period got right. Beautiful fashion, music, literature and architecture flowed out of a Biblical view of the world, and it was anything but disposable. We are still chewing on them. A strong central Christian message communicated life, structure and beauty.

Jones pointed out that the expression ‘cool’ means ‘where the life is.’ The culture that grows out of the church should be attractive to the world. Instead, we’ve let Solomon’s wives dictate what’s pretty and cool and ended up with a low-budget, G-rated tribute to the world’s Vanity Fair.

How can we fix this? With a Biblical worldview of course, and that means seeing the inherent symbolic values of the things God made as revealed in Scripture, including men and women. As we learn to see the real world, we will communicate using the language and wisdom of God. When we fill ourselves with Bible truth it flows out of us in every area of life, and the channels naturally become secondary to the message. Living water will be mediated ‘crystal clear’ through bricks, words, textiles and pixels, and the message will be expressed in everything we do. Like God, all the silent things we make will be practically speaking. Even our ads and book covers.

Written for www.americanvision.org

“We are not born desiring truth, but rather milk. Truth is not found primarily through the reflections of trained philosophers and scientists. It is found primarily through faithful mothers diligently spanking bottoms. We are designed and created by God to grow up into truth. The idea that we could ever dispassionately approach the search for truth with a detached Cartesian spirit is an idea which dies hard. We must learn our theology and worldview from the high chair, and, more than this, we must learn that this is how we are supposed to learn them.”

Angels In The Architecture, by Doug Wilson and Doug Jones, p. 188-189.

The truth of the gospel leads inexorably to laughter. Those who want to glower as they cling to truth want something that can never be. Whatever it is they have in their hands, it must not be the truth, unless it is just a fragment of it. The dour Calvinist, the cranky sabbatarian, and the pious self-loather are all textbook head cases. We see them in Scripture, we see them in our literature, and sometimes we see them out on their front porch on sabbath afternoons, glaring at the bicyclists. Are they speaking the truth? Well … are they laughing for joy?

Whenever the truth is presented to us, we have to recognise the various devices we have for avoiding it. The libertine is not hard to understsand. Any given truth may be overtly rejected in the flesh. But we too often forget that it may also be accepted and praised in the flesh. Thus the pharisaical mind is innoculated to truth — he has received just enough of the truth to keep him from getting a case of the real thing.

- Douglas Jones, Douglas Wilson, Angels In The Architecture, p. 72-73.

“We so often lead lives forgetful of the fact that our God is very shocking. Amidst all our fragile piety and devouring busyness, we have a Lord who steps in and commands us such things as, “Thou shalt bestow that money for whatsoever thy soul lusteth after, for oxen, or for sheep, or for wine, or for strong drink, or for whatsoever they soul desireth: and thou shalt eat there before the Lord thy God, and thou shalt rejoice, thou and thine household” (Deut. 14:26). Such unthriftiness. Such waste. Such gluttony. Such winebibbing. Such is a command of our holy God.

For some reason foreign to our modern ears, God tells us that celebration is central to pleasing Him; it is central to leading a good life. Modern American life has no time for serious celebrations as did life in centuries past. We’ve got work to do; projects and deadlines press us. And yet for all our industrial-strength pragmatism, few if any truly important things get accomplished. We have forgotten that celebration isn’t just an option; it’s a call to full Christian living.

Celebration is worshipping God with our bodies, with the material creation He has set up around us. Celebrating–whether in feasts, ceremonies, holidays, formal worship, or lovemaking–are all part of obeying God’s command to “love the Lord thy God with all thine heart”… God’s redemption and creation ought to keep us in a perpetual state of thanks which bursts out in celebration at every opportunity.”

- Douglas Jones, Douglas Wilson, Angels In The Architecture, p. 80.

Before Jesus ascended into heaven, He assigned an apparently overwhelming task to His disciples (Matt. 28:18-20). Like many familiar words, these often just float by us. We think we understand them simply because we are accustomed to them.

But an understanding of this passage must always be at the centre of any thought of a distinctively Christian culture — not because our Lord’s words are primarily concerned with politics, but because they are not.Following the Lord’s authority, one of the distinctives of Christian cultural understanding is that it is also minimally concerned with politics. The restoration of the nations is not, in any important sense, a political process. Rather, the process is one of baptism and catechism. The means given for the conversion of the heathen were the waters of baptism and the words of instruction. When the lessons have been learned, there will of course be some political consequences. But they will be minimal for the simple reason that the state itself, in a nation that has come to repentance, will also be minimal. For the Christian, the political realm is a creature to be redeemed, sinful like the rest of us and with a long way to go before it retires to more biblical proportions.

- Douglas Jones, Douglas Wilson, Angels In The Architecture, p. 201-202