The Moment of Redemption

Redemption is a funny thing. It does not work like you would imagine. In El Paso, a hiking trail that takes you to the top of North Franklin Peak goes past a little area called Cottonwood Springs. Surrounded by dozens of square miles of desert—nothing but cacti, yucca, and various other inhospitable plants—a solitary cottonwood tree stands like a beacon. The best time of the year is the spring when there is moisture. The tree turns a magnificent green. I can count a number of cottonwood trees from where I am sitting right now, at my desk in Kansas. They are all green, as are the elms, sycamores, the oaks, and the grass in my lawn. We have been inundated with moisture lately and everything is bursting with green. When I run on the trails by the river I am overwhelmed by green. In El Paso it works differently. Green is precious and rare. Here it is plentiful and means humidity.

The most interesting thing to me about that lone cottonwood in the Franklin Mountains, though, is how well it represents spiritual truths. For life often functions a bit like the Franklin Mountains. It is sharp and inhospitable. A dry and weary land where there is no water. But this cottonwood always redeemed the seemingly unmitigated harshness of the landscape in my eyes. One single tree, one brilliant spark of green and life, in a sea of brown and death. And this is a bit how grace begins to work in our lives. One small moment, one moment’s turn of the life toward God and away from the world of sin and death. And the bleakness, the harshness, the inhospitability, is redeemed. That is amazing to me.

This truth impressed itself upon me freshly the other night as I took a walk along our verdant river. I was by myself and wrestling with God. The nature of the dispute is immaterial for our purposes here, but let’s just assume I was the one in the wrong. All day I had felt oppressed by this burden. I left to walk and my mind was in a cloud. I was angry and bitter and doing one of my favorite things, wallowing in pity. I was walking at a furious pace. A biker came up behind me and didn’t call out what side he wanted to pass me on and almost ran into me and I had the inclination to run him down and knock him off his bike. He was at least my dad’s age, maybe older. Not one of my finer moments. I came to an area along the trail called Fair’s Grove, the river on one side and a grove of cottonwoods and elms on the other. I was walking through, furious already and madder still that the walk was not appearing to help, when I slowed for a minute. I caught a glimpse of the way the falling light was moving through the leaves of the tree right above me. It was exquisite. I stood and looked up through the leaves at the light and felt transfixed, felt like a poet or a painter. I muttered audibly to God, asking him for help. Nothing eloquent, nothing poetic, merely the first nod toward my own fallibility and toward his great grace. And in that single, simple moment standing under a tree the day was redeemed. A day where from first to last I lacked trust and clarity and devotion. I walked on in confidence.

Redemption is almost scandalous, how simply it can come. Marriage has taught me this. A day or an evening of fighting is undone in a single gesture or kind word or loving smile. True friendship also works this way. But I have learned this reality most assuredly from the way God has loved me and provided redemption for me. I spent my life opposed to him, willfully sinning and choosing my own way, yet he redeemed my life from the pit and gave me salvation through the death of his Son. And now still, day by day, I choose sin and my own way over his perfect and pleasing will, yet in a moment when I turn my heart back toward him in supplication and penitence, he forgives and redeems that day. And that, now, is our model for interaction with others. And it is somehow possible.

Theological Anachronism

Woe to you! For you build the tombs of the prophets whom your fathers killed.  Jesus, Luke 11:47

There is a tendency everywhere to treat the dead with reverence we would never have accorded them had they been alive at our own time. Time heals all wounds, it seems, and also deadens the impact of thought or actions that would damn someone were we watching the outcome of such actions on the evening news or reading the damnable words on a book fresh off the press. We see this perhaps most often in politics. Already, George W. Bush’s lamentable political career is being reconsidered; certain Republicans are pining for the Clinton years; and Reagan’s beatification into the Church of Capitalism is steaming along nicely. The former two gentleman are still alive; angst over them could not even last until the good-spirit engendered by death.

For the most part, I am perfectly fine with this. Bush was not the monster the caricaturists of the left made him out to be during his presidential tenure; the same follows for Clinton from the opposite side of the aisle. Both were men who had a position of authority the scope of which few of us can even imagine who were forced by their various times to make difficult choices. That most of us now regret the eight year engagement in Iraq and Afghanistan, does not mean that Bush was the nefarious and greedy tool of corporate interests that 9/11 conspiracy theorists and MSNBC talking heads made him out to be. Likewise, while few would exalt Clinton as a standard of morality, few can deny that he managed our country quite well during his tenure. It is part of the particular virulence of politics that prevents people from conceding that the opposing party has ever in their entire history made one decision that was not completely terrible. However, charity and nuance when evaluating another human being is not a sign of weakness but of grace.

This strikes me too as I consider the theological landscape of America today. We are becoming quite the partisans in this field as well. We have New Calvinists, and emergent postmoderns, and the old guard evangelical right. The New Calvinists (amongst whom I would have to place myself) abhor the paucity of scriptural reliance of the emergent postmoderns and the overdependence on politics as means of kingdom building of the religious right. The emergent feel the Bible to be a worthy document but unsuitable for answering the host of complications latent in contemporary society which the Bible could never have foreseen and therefore find the New Calvinists altogether too bleak and naïve, and they make no attempt to disguise their contempt for the religious right (many of whom are their parents). The religious right is for the most part Arminian and therefore denies the bleaker picture of human society/capability promoted by the New Calvinists in favor of an overtly political aim, and are wondering, as it concerns the emergents, how they could ever have strayed so far from the fold.

While I think one must hold theological convictions and protect them vigorously at times, I also feel that too often we can become so focused on condemning someone else that we forget to stand for something ourselves. Moreover, I believe that some of the people we contend against today will be seen in a much kinder light by our children and grandchildren.

One of the primary reasons I believe such a thing is because of the example of one of my favorite authors, C.S. Lewis. If Lewis were alive today he would be lambasted from certain corners of the internet and pulpit by people detesting his theological vision. Indeed, there is much I disagree with concerning Lewis’s theology. One prime example is at the conclusion of the final book of the Narnia series, The Last Battle, wherein a servant of the false god, Tash, is let into heaven by Aslan because Aslan understands that in all of this man’s striving after Tash he was actually striving after Aslan. Because he had never heard of Aslan, his religious conviction toward Tash gets him in through the backdoor to Aslan’s kingdom. Lewis is basically saying that all roads, followed diligently enough and with the proper amount of ignorance, will in the end lead the faithful of all stripes to Christ. Belief, to borrow a phrase from contemporary spiritual discourse, is all that matters. The actual substance of belief is less important. To me this is absolutely flabby theology and nowhere backed up by scripture. Furthermore, it is dangerous theology. The only way the Bible says that people will be set right before God is through professing Jesus as their Lord. To suggest that there is another way undercuts this fundamental mission of the church to bring all people to Christ. I do not like that.

Yet I love C.S. Lewis. Reading him is a delight to my soul. Right now I am working through the concluding book of the Space Trilogy, That Hideous Strength. I love it. I laugh out loud at times and it turns my mind over at others. Many of the same people who get red in the face today about the newest controversial book being released or rant and rave about this pastor or that philosopher, likewise read Lewis with delight and learn much from him.

Perhaps we cannot extend that charity to our contemporaries. Perhaps we are not supposed to. If I lived during Lewis’s time I suppose I would more directly have to voice my concerns over his theology. Maybe that is the right thing to do when the person is living and there can be hope for correction. But always, we must give grace. And we must bear in mind that we can read people with whom we disagree not only to become confirmed in our disagreement and more clearly demarcate the battle lines, but also to learn something.

First Year Down

One year down, one-ish to go. My brain is slowly recovering from the past few weeks. In the past nine days I have turned in around 65 pages of written material for three different courses: one paper on John Donne and the fashioning of his soul at the time of his conversion from his native Catholicism to the Reformed faith; one on the kinship between Charles Dickens and the man who performed for Dublin what Dickens performed for London, James Joyce; and one on a Marxist reading of John Milton’s political document, The Second Defense of the English People, which defended the English people (imagine that) in the wake of the execution of the English monarch, Charles I, who was killed in the Puritan revolution.

Since these three things are almost entirely unrelated to each other, I feel like my brain was like a rotor with three spokes that at each end represented my term papers and I was constantly rotating between them. And there was no escape. I even dreamed about writing papers. But it is over now. I am looking forward to the summer—I am most likely going to be doing some landscaping for a company in Manhattan and preparing to be a father. Clara is getting big and is without a doubt the most beautiful pregnant woman in this world. 

Another beautiful feature of the summer is that I get to read whatever I want. In a sense. Part of my reading will be preparation for next year’s thesis project, but I am also enjoying a long, narrative novel right now. I took a course this semester on British Modernism, a form of writing which focuses on technique over content and individual consciousness over linear narrative. Most of the books we read were amazing and enjoyable, but after four months of feeling trapped inside another person’s mind, I am looking forward to reading stories for a bit.

Right now I am in El Paso, visiting old friends for a few days. I had a friend driving from Michigan to El Paso who was stopping for a night with us in Kansas. I decided to hop in with him for the second half of his trip. When we got in late Tuesday night there was a windstorm blowing dust against our vehicle at about 50 miles per hour. That’s my El Paso. That same day there was a mountain lion loose in town that a trigger happy cop shot while he was trapped inside a garage. I did not find out about this until after my trail run in the mountains that morning. It is great to be back for a few days and run the old trails and play Ultimate with my old team, and have conversations and meals with far too many calories with old friends. I am also enjoying a brief reprieve from the Kansas summer that started a few days before I left. I forgot how oppressive mid-90s and humidity can feel.

We have a couple of weddings in Colorado that warrant some trips out there this summer so we are looking forward to that. But, of course, the summer will be dominated by the arrival of our first child, Owen ____ Coffman. We are indecisive on the middle name at this point. It seems like every time we discuss the options we add another name to the list. 

I guess that will do it for now. I am looking forward to doing some less intense writing this summer on subjects of my own choosing. Those should be seen here soon.

Justice

Well, I am breaking radio silence. What a story. Sixty-one years to the day that Hitler killed himself in an underground hideout lest he face American justice, Osama Bin Laden faces that justice.

You know how everyone can tell you where they were when they first heard about 9/11? Hopefully we will never forget this moment either. I was home last night working on one of my term papers due in the next week, when I checked cnn.com for a mental health break when I saw the news. Not that I am particularly proud of this, but my first thought was one of joy. Frankly, I was happy we got the bastard.

My facebook news feed quickly filled up with people reacting to the news. Most were jubilant and thanked our troops and asked for God to bless America. Others were more reserved. Some expressed distaste at the way people were reacting, seeing exulting over another human being’s death as classless and uncharitable: God loves all so how can we celebrate death. Some people quoted Exodus 33:11 which states that God does not take pleasure in the death of the wicked.

I sympathize with this latter position. It seems tasteless for a Christian to delight in a man being shot in the head. However, Paul tells us in Romans that “rulers do not bear the sword for no reason. They are God’s servants, agents of wrath to bring punishment on the wrongdoer” (13:4 ESV). It is our government’s job to protect its citizens. It is their job to bring punishment on the wrongdoer. This man they killed was responsible for the murder of thousands and the devastation of millions.

I therefore do not celebrate bin Laden's death, but justice. There is a difference between the two, to be clear. Our same God who is a God of love is also a God of justice. We must not forget this. Justice is a fearful thing, sometimes a consuming fire, but imagine a world where no justice existed at all, where the death of thousands inspired more compassion for the killer and hand-wringing over his death than delight in temporal justice which is but an echo of the justice to come.

Personal Excellence 3

This is my next to last post in a series of personal excellence based off a talk I gave to our student group this semester. I am entering the home stretch of the semester and will have plenty to write about very soon. Clara is coming along nice in our first pregnancy. Little Owen by all accounts seems healthy.

Personal excellence requires a right theology: The proper theology of personal excellence is not easily divisible from the proper motivation, but I want to elaborate here on a specific spiritual point: an understanding of scripture compels a believer to desire excellence in every situation in which they find themselves. I think there is a tendency in contemporary Christianity to see a stark dividing line between things of this world and the things of God. This has a long and storied tradition (including, within classical Christian thought, the fourth century African bishop Augustine), but I fear that it has more in common with Plato and the Greeks than with the New Testament. For Plato and Aristotle, this physical world was a detestable thing to be rejected and the physical body a nuisance to be cast aside. But in Christian theology, a good God made this world very good and Romans chapter eight tells us that it groans now in eager anticipation for its restoration. Creation is both good and bad. Likewise, God made man in his own image and after his own likeness, but we have sinned and mucked up this image of God within each of us. We also, like creation, groan in our bodies waiting for the restoration of all things, the day when God makes all things new, and our perishable bodies take on the imperishable. This is not to say that the kingdom of the world and the kingdom of heaven overlap one-hundred percent. This is another contemporary error on a different end of the spectrum, but there is certainly a degree of overlap. We are exhorted by Jesus to ask God to bring his kingdom to this earth that his will may be done here, and this began with the rending of the veil in the Temple, with God in the flesh coming to this planet.

I apologize for this long aside, but what I am trying to say here is that when we divide the world up neatly into two opposing kingdoms—God’s and this world’s—everything that seems to be tainted by this world becomes utterly valueless. My answer to this is that the division is not so neat as we can often imagine. Why else would Paul write to the Thessalonian Christians: “⁹Now concerning^(S) brotherly love^(T) you have no need for anyone to write to you, for you yourselves have been^(U) taught by God^(V) to love one another, ¹⁰for that indeed is what^(W) you are doing to all the brothers throughout Macedonia. But we urge you, brothers, to^(X) do this more and more, ¹¹and to aspire^(Y) to live quietly, and^(Z) to mind your own affairs, and^(AA) to work with your hands, as we instructed you, ¹²so that you may^(AB) walk properly before^(AC) outsiders and be dependent on no one” (4:9-12). Why are slaves not told to neglect their work so that they can do spiritual things? If there is no value in the secular work that we do than why are we commanded to remain in those occupations? The obvious answer is that we are commanded to engage diligently with our vocation in this world because God can get glory from our hard work in the secular world.

And the goal of this proper theology is, of course, like everything else, to glorify God. James Davison Hunter is a Christian and a professor at the University of Virginia. His writings on the sociology of the church are a gift to the body of Christ. In a recently published book, titled, aptly, To Change the World, Dr. Hunter makes the following statement: “ If there are benevolent consequences of our engagement with the world, in other words, it is precisely because it is not rooted in a desire to change the world for the better but rather because it is an expression of a desire to honor the creator of all goodness, beauty, and truth, a manifestation of our loving obedience to God, and a fulfillment of God’s command to love our neighbor” (234). The great reformer Martin Luther, several hundred years before Dr. Hunter, perhaps put it more simply when he said that a “dairy maid can milk cows to the glory of God.”

An improper understanding of this principle completely destroyed me at my last major job. I worked for nearly four years for 50-55 hours per week in the sales department for a large, multinational wholesaler and I believe I hated nearly every minute of it. I failed to engage with this truth of scripture that I am to work before the Lord, that I am to glorify him in all of my endeavors and live in faith even in the workplace. You see I viewed the workplace as valuable only insofar as it allowed me opportunities for outreach. After a few months when it became apparent that my coworkers were godless heathens (I say this jokingly) I had no purpose behind showing up every day. If there wasn’t going to be revival at Ferguson Enterprises than I was just there to collect a paycheck. So, I wasn’t a very good worker. I looked like a good worker. I feel like the guy in Office Space who did just enough work to make it look like I was working but the rest of the time I essentially wasted. Also, I began to see all work in the world as worthless and detestable and I began to fetishize working for the church, as if this were the only vehicle through which to honor God. As you can imagine, this led to no great outcomes in my life. And, more importantly, it gave God no glory. Do not withhold glory from God because you don’t like your work. Work hard and see what happens. This is the theology of work that is in the Bible. You’re trusting him for the results, you’re trusting him for success, and you’re trusting him that he can receive glory from the way that you work. And that is no small ambition.

Personal Excellence 2

This post is the second in a series on the topic of personal excellence based on a talk I gave to the student group at our church recently. The following posts will highlight w

Personal Excellence requires proper motivation: our primary, overruling motivation to pursue excellence must emanate from a desire to give God glory. Any other motivation will end in seeking the vain praise of other people. Our goal and aim is praise from God. You can have one without the other. Don’t mistake praise from men as praise from God. Jesus warned the Pharisees as they performed their ostentatious displays of religiosity in front of crowds of people that “They have received their reward in full.” We ought to live as people seeking a reward that cannot be fully given in this lifetime. We ought to make it our aim to hear the words of the good master in the parable of the talents in Matthew 25: “Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master” (25:21).

A secondary motivation, implicit in the parable of the talents I have just mentioned, is that, we have been given a charge by our Lord to be faithful in that which he has given us. Jesus tells us in Luke 16, “One who is faithful in a very little is also faithful in much, and one who is dishonest in a very little is also dishonest in much” (16:10). Also, related to this, “To whom much is given, much is required.” There are few American Christians who could contend that we have not been given much. In terms of opportunity, wealth, health, and even technology our place in history is unrivalled. How will we use it? Will we use what God has given us to become excellent students, employees, missionaries, teachers, nurses, engineers, auto mechanics, preachers, fathers, husbands, mothers, wives, sons, daughters, followers of Jesus, friends, and servants? I shudder sometimes to think of what God has given me and how small my response has been.

A third motivation: When God first called Abram away from his people he gave him the following promise: “And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing” (12:3). In other words, God blesses us so that we are equipped and can turn around and bless others. The blessings that we receive do not end with us--they are meant to be used to point others towards God. Excellence is a surefire way to be capable of blessing others. Excellence in whatever walk of life opens the doors for us to bless other people.

Biblically, I think immediately here of the story of Nehemiah. I don’t have time tonight to get into every detail of that incredible story, but here are the pertinent facts as it concerns our present discussion: Nehemiah was a Jew in exile working in the court of King Artaxerxes, otherwise known as the king of the Persian empire. He was obviously a diligent and accomplished worker and eventually found his way into a position as cupbearer to the king, a position of some prominence. One day, after hearing fresh information on the status of the temple in Jerusalem and the Jewish people in general Nehemiah became depressed and entered Artaxerxes’ presence in that state. Artaxerxes, clearly not used to seeing Nehemiah downcast, asked him what the trouble was and Nehemiah told him. Because of this, Artaxerxes opened up the finances of the Persian empire to aid Nehemiah in his efforts to rebuild the temple. Because Nehemiah was a good worker with a positive attitude, the temple was rebuilt. When God blesses us, we must bless others.

Personal Excellence 1

We are getting to that point in the semester where my life is robbed from me for about four or five weeks and I pile myself under mostly unread books in my office and try to find something to say that will be both interesting enough to keep me busy and content for this seemingly interminable period and, perhaps more importantly, something that my professors will enjoy and reward me with high marks for having written. Therefore, blog activity will be truncated until this period ends when I will have a flood of new material to write about, including: Christian socialism, James Joyce, getting back into running after a long winter’s hibernation, the debilitating Kansas summer heat, impending fatherhood, and much more.

In the meantime, I am going to cop out and do a series of posts based on a message that I gave recently to the student group at our church. This is mostly so I don’t have to do much original thinking for the purposes of this blog and because the topic will be a good reminder to me to persevere in this trying time. This post is by way of introduction and I will follow it up with four posts that highlight the main points of my talk, posting once a week until the madness of this semester passes.

The topic of the message was personal excellence and the Biblical mandate, if indeed there is one, for a Christian to strive for excellence in what you could call worldly matters, the everyday things such as: working a job, being a student, pursuing hobbies, etc. I believe this enough of a framework in which this can make sense. Here was my introduction:

Let me begin by saying that I was asked to speak on this topic not because of any level of personal excellence that I have attained in my life. My inclinations are toward apathy and general uselessness, an ideal life for me would consist of lots of time spent watching courtroom dramas, running, and playing Ultimate Frisbee. However, I have been saved by a great God by great grace and mercy and therefore see myself as called and bound to transcend my natural dispositions. If I have any excellence, it does not emanate from an inclination towards discipline or a ten step plan towards excellence that I follow to perfection, but from God who loved me and saved me and wants to show himself glorious through my life.

This semester in my Renaissance era course I read a book by Count Baldesar Castiglione called The Book of the Courtier. In it, the good count goes on for over 300 pages describing the qualities and attributes desirable in a young man seeking to serve before a prince or king at court. If you have ever heard of the idea of the “Renaissance man,” this conception probably arises out of such works as these. You must be strong and a good fighter, speak Latin and Greek, have read all of the classics, be an accomplished horseman and swordsman, have a high degree of piety, basically be amazing at everything you do while pretending you don’t care about whatever it is you are doing. The literate population of Europe devoured this book. People everywhere read it diligently and tried with all of their might to implement its steps and follow Castiglione’s model. They did it because they wanted to serve before an earthly king with a temporal kingdom. We believe, as Christians, that we are co-heirs with the King of Kings and serve before an eternal God who will rule over an eternal kingdom. I want to suggest that we ought to desire to serve our King with the same fervency and diligence that the prospective courtiers exemplified in their desire to serve before their kings.

This is a difficult topic to discuss and I will try and be careful with my language tonight so as not to overstep any bounds and say something untrue. Nowhere in the Bible are we explicitly exhorted to be as excellent as we can be. Indeed, the reason for our calling, as Paul reminds the Corinthian church is for God to show favor to those who are lowly, i.e. unexcellent, in the eyes of the world: “For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; he chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God” (1 Corinthians 1:26-29). And, indeed, any personal excellence that we display in this life is fully attributable to God and his mercy. However, as true as our lowly position might be in this world, things have changed as we have been saved by God and set apart to be his representatives on this planet. We have new standards; many of us were lowly when we were called, but we are not merely to remain that way, but to excel in whatever station of life God has placed us in so that his glory and fame may spread into all of the world.

There are many scriptures I could point to which allude to this point, but for the sake of time I will flag one verse as the thesis for this talk, the jump-off point for the rest of the discussion. This is from Paul’s letter to the Colossians, “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving” (3:24-25). Our job at our jobs is to glorify the Lord through our work, to approach our position—however lowly or exalted—with a disciplined ethic and a heart to honor God, first and foremost, through our labor. This is nothing less than a call to be excellent. And because I am a good English major and I am supposed to give my thesis statement up front, here it is: as we seek to glorify God in all that we do and work as before him and not before men, this will lead us to see value in our everyday life, work, and relationships and as we pursue God’s glory and his blessing, excellence will come as a byproduct of our aim to glorify God.