I had an interesting discussion with a friend today that was essentially about Reality (though our subject matter was more varied). It's a subject I'm trying to learn more about—in particular, the differences and ramifications of Realism and Nominalism.
I've written about the problem of universals on a couple occasions, but it struck me in our conversation today that a definition of wrong immediately proceeds from the Platonic Ideal (as I understand it anyway).
Wrong means that the particular deviates from the universal in some way. It is the existence of the universal (real?) that allows us to make a judgment about the relative rightness or wrongness of a particular.
I don't think this is a great theological definition, since Christianity deals not with abstract realities like universals but true realities, and I think the distinctions between the particular and universal are somewhat different than we might find in philosophy. But while the above definition does not speak to morals directly (in the sense that no morality is attached to the Universal, and deviations from the Universal may not actually be morally wrong), it does provide us with a sense that we can confidently call something Right or Wrong. If the ideal of red exists, I can confidently say that Kermit the Frog is not red. From the nominalist perspective, this is impossible—since red may very well actually be green.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Evangelism
I am still fighting the busy bug. It has been an extremely hectic week, and it's only Wednesday; I don't think I've talked to anyone that I usually do outside of church folks and family since Sunday.
The good news—no pun intended, I promise—is that my unexpected time with them has provided some worthwhile conversation about the gospel. One of our number remarked on her dissatisfaction with the apparent apathy that her current fellowship seems to have towards spreading the gospel and asked about suggestions to widen their horizons, so to speak.
The discussion served to highlight some important things about the gospel for me, and I think about the movements to evangelize. Much of my frustration with the "Go" crowd is how often it seems that they misunderstand the nature of the word "go." The emphasis in the Great Commission is not on "go," but rather on "disciple."
I think the error of the "Go" mentality is that we lose sight of the real imperative of evangelism: discipleship. While I don't evangelize terribly often—in the sense of running out to the unchurched or the street corner—the gospel is nonetheless pervasive in my life and governs my interactions with others. I have always felt more inclined to evangelize Christians1 than the unchurched, since it seems like a lot of us don't really know the gospel that well.
At the root of the "go" mentality is, I think, the idea that if we don't Go, people will burn forever in hell, as though God is incapable of saving apart from us. I thoroughly disagree with this idea, though I disagree equally with those who would argue against evangelism on the basis of God's election. (Lest anyone get the wrong idea, that is not what I'm promoting here at all!)
I know a Lutheran who said once that God elects by means of evangelism. While I don't agree with that as it's stated, I would heartily agree with the argument that God regenerates using evangelism. The Spirit works through the gospel to regenerate the hearer.
I hear so much about the method of evangelism that I wonder sometimes if we have missed the message of the gospel. I hear so much about going that I wonder if we have somehow forgotten that we have local responsibilities, too. We are not all called to foreign fields, and that's okay. The gospel is not for sale; it is not meant to be introduced with bait (why do you think we see the use of nets in the gospels instead of rods with bait?). It seems like simple honesty would suffice.
Ultimately, we share the gospel because it is good news—like the high marks we received on a test, the birth of a new child, the weekend, rediscovering a good book or CD, and so on. (I was struck by the latter at this gathering, since I found out I share a preference for Eisley with one of the other members of the group; being able to borrow the CDs from me made her pretty happy.) It is natural to share and evidence our joys. We are hardly worried about the how in these cases.
[1] I am not sure why exactly, but it seems like there is some resistance to the idea that the gospel is intended for believers. At the very end, we see that the gospel is itself eternal, and we will evangelize each other in heaven.
The good news—no pun intended, I promise—is that my unexpected time with them has provided some worthwhile conversation about the gospel. One of our number remarked on her dissatisfaction with the apparent apathy that her current fellowship seems to have towards spreading the gospel and asked about suggestions to widen their horizons, so to speak.
The discussion served to highlight some important things about the gospel for me, and I think about the movements to evangelize. Much of my frustration with the "Go" crowd is how often it seems that they misunderstand the nature of the word "go." The emphasis in the Great Commission is not on "go," but rather on "disciple."
I think the error of the "Go" mentality is that we lose sight of the real imperative of evangelism: discipleship. While I don't evangelize terribly often—in the sense of running out to the unchurched or the street corner—the gospel is nonetheless pervasive in my life and governs my interactions with others. I have always felt more inclined to evangelize Christians1 than the unchurched, since it seems like a lot of us don't really know the gospel that well.
At the root of the "go" mentality is, I think, the idea that if we don't Go, people will burn forever in hell, as though God is incapable of saving apart from us. I thoroughly disagree with this idea, though I disagree equally with those who would argue against evangelism on the basis of God's election. (Lest anyone get the wrong idea, that is not what I'm promoting here at all!)
I know a Lutheran who said once that God elects by means of evangelism. While I don't agree with that as it's stated, I would heartily agree with the argument that God regenerates using evangelism. The Spirit works through the gospel to regenerate the hearer.
I hear so much about the method of evangelism that I wonder sometimes if we have missed the message of the gospel. I hear so much about going that I wonder if we have somehow forgotten that we have local responsibilities, too. We are not all called to foreign fields, and that's okay. The gospel is not for sale; it is not meant to be introduced with bait (why do you think we see the use of nets in the gospels instead of rods with bait?). It seems like simple honesty would suffice.
Ultimately, we share the gospel because it is good news—like the high marks we received on a test, the birth of a new child, the weekend, rediscovering a good book or CD, and so on. (I was struck by the latter at this gathering, since I found out I share a preference for Eisley with one of the other members of the group; being able to borrow the CDs from me made her pretty happy.) It is natural to share and evidence our joys. We are hardly worried about the how in these cases.
[1] I am not sure why exactly, but it seems like there is some resistance to the idea that the gospel is intended for believers. At the very end, we see that the gospel is itself eternal, and we will evangelize each other in heaven.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Miracles
We finished Luke 8 today, covering two miracles: the healing of a woman with an issue of blood, and the raising of Jairus' daughter. There's a great deal going on here, but I think I'll be able to summarize a bit. The story may be read in Luke 8.41-56.
As Jesus travels among a thick crowd to Jairus' house, a woman who has hemorrhaged blood twelve years touches the hem of his cloak and is instantly cured. If we stop for a second, we'll realize two things. First, that by virtue of her illness, she is unclean (Le 15.26); and second, all those she touches become unclean (Le 15.19).
I've noted before that uncleanness in the Law is pervasive, but cleanliness is not. One never becomes clean when someone who is clean touches him; it only works in reverse. This is not the case with Christ. Uncleanness flees before his power, undone in his presence.
There is another aspect to this that goes hand-in-hand with the cure. While the woman bleeds, she is not allowed to fellowship in the sanctuary; her disease effectively ends her fellowship, both with the congregation and also with God.
I think this is the point of this miracle. Christ undoes the curse of the law and restores us to fellowship.
It's interesting to me that this is a miracle-within-a-miracle, so to speak. The arc of the narrative is aiming at Jairus' house, where his daughter lies dying. As soon as Jesus sends the newly healed on her way, a messenger comes to say that his daughter has died (it is perfect in the Greek).
The response? Fear not,1 only believe. Jesus is ridiculed upon his arrival when he declares that she is only sleeping.2 Lest we get the wrong idea, she really was dead. Jesus calls her back from death, and in this I think we see ourselves. We, too, were "dead in trespasses and sins" (Ep 2.1), and he has raised us also.
The two miracles are different from each other in two key ways. First, the exercise of faith. In the first miracle, the woman exercises faith for herself. In the second miracle, it is the father who has faith on his daughter's behalf. The second is the result. While both miracles involve healing, the first miracle results in restored fellowship, and the second in restored life.
I make this point because I think it illustrates well the interplay between the faithfulness of Christ and our faith in him. It is by his faith that we have life, and through our faith that his power restores us to fellowship.
[1] There are two primary types of imperatives in Greek: the present and aorist. The latter is one of prohibition: thou shalt not. The former is one of injunction: stop doing that! It is this sense used here, and the NAS renders it beautifully, I think: "Be afraid no longer."
[2] It is worth pointing out here, I think, that it was Christians who first called the graveyard a "bedroom," i.e., a cemetery, from the Greek KOIMHTHRION.
As Jesus travels among a thick crowd to Jairus' house, a woman who has hemorrhaged blood twelve years touches the hem of his cloak and is instantly cured. If we stop for a second, we'll realize two things. First, that by virtue of her illness, she is unclean (Le 15.26); and second, all those she touches become unclean (Le 15.19).
I've noted before that uncleanness in the Law is pervasive, but cleanliness is not. One never becomes clean when someone who is clean touches him; it only works in reverse. This is not the case with Christ. Uncleanness flees before his power, undone in his presence.
There is another aspect to this that goes hand-in-hand with the cure. While the woman bleeds, she is not allowed to fellowship in the sanctuary; her disease effectively ends her fellowship, both with the congregation and also with God.
I think this is the point of this miracle. Christ undoes the curse of the law and restores us to fellowship.
It's interesting to me that this is a miracle-within-a-miracle, so to speak. The arc of the narrative is aiming at Jairus' house, where his daughter lies dying. As soon as Jesus sends the newly healed on her way, a messenger comes to say that his daughter has died (it is perfect in the Greek).
The response? Fear not,1 only believe. Jesus is ridiculed upon his arrival when he declares that she is only sleeping.2 Lest we get the wrong idea, she really was dead. Jesus calls her back from death, and in this I think we see ourselves. We, too, were "dead in trespasses and sins" (Ep 2.1), and he has raised us also.
The two miracles are different from each other in two key ways. First, the exercise of faith. In the first miracle, the woman exercises faith for herself. In the second miracle, it is the father who has faith on his daughter's behalf. The second is the result. While both miracles involve healing, the first miracle results in restored fellowship, and the second in restored life.
I make this point because I think it illustrates well the interplay between the faithfulness of Christ and our faith in him. It is by his faith that we have life, and through our faith that his power restores us to fellowship.
[1] There are two primary types of imperatives in Greek: the present and aorist. The latter is one of prohibition: thou shalt not. The former is one of injunction: stop doing that! It is this sense used here, and the NAS renders it beautifully, I think: "Be afraid no longer."
[2] It is worth pointing out here, I think, that it was Christians who first called the graveyard a "bedroom," i.e., a cemetery, from the Greek KOIMHTHRION.
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