Chips, Salsa, Beer, and Theology

For the past 18 months or so, I, along with a handful of other friends, have been meeting on a quarterly basis to talk about theology. We meet at Kerbey Ln (a 24 hr Austin restaurant) where we eat, drink, and discuss a book we've read over the 3-4 preceding months. These meetings have been refreshing and encouraging. The busy-ness of life fades into the background when we commit an evening to our thoughts about God, sharing a meal, and friendship. It's usually about 3 hours after we start, around 11:30 or midnight, that we reluctantly leave our booth, which the waiter has long since stopped checking on for refills, and tiredly return to life's duties.

Although I don't want to over-spiritualize our little theological book club, I also don't want to underestimate its powerfully sacred nature. What we do every few months is create a space for dialogue to flourish. This dialogue is not the empty words of 'how are you doing?' 'Fine, how are you?' 'Good!' 'Yes, good!'. Instead, it's the dialogue of faith - believers reading together, asking tough questions, and doing so apart from denominational/organizational restraints (within reason - we all bring our baggage). Pretense (well, mostly) is gone. So this is a sacred space, where the deeper truths of God intersect with the simplicity of life. 

It's this intersection of the sacred and profane, spiritual and secular, earthly and heavenly, that I find fascinating. I find it fascinating first of all because 15 years ago I would have considered those things to have been mutually exclusive. However, now I find them so intertwined that it actually takes conscious effort to separate them, if even separating them is necessary. Now I see all of truth as God's truth, and all of life as God's gift. For example, one of our group members talked about how he worships God while listening to Radiohead. Although that sounds bizarre, I know what he means. I think anyone who loves music knows what he means. If you are a jazz musician and you had the opportunity to visit the smokey jazz club, The Five Spot, in New York in 1957, to hear John Coltrane play, you would be in heaven. Or if you are a fan of the British Invasion and stepped into the crowd at Shea Stadium in 1965 to hear the Beatles give one of their most famous concerts, you would be in heaven. Neither Radiohead, Coltrane, nor the Beatles had (or have) intentions of leading anyone to Christ. However, the appreciation of great music, just like the appreciate of anything great in this world, always returns to the Father, Son and Spirit. Music only exists because God has created people who make it. It may be 'secular' in its message and in aspects of its form, but it's the creation of the created - and it's beautiful. It has aesthetic value completely apart from whatever message the song writers might be trying to send to his (or their) listeners.

But, back to the sacred space. Despite the intersection of the sacred and profane, sacred space is critical to Christian living. And it's not just a nerdy theology group that creates sacred space. Ultimately, it's the job of the church (not the organization per se, but the people, who are the church). At our small group on Wednesday nights we have about 18 people who are all parents of young kids (except one couple - but at our church, it's only a matter of time). We drop our kids off with baby sitters after a long day, and all us adults converge on one house with food in hand, prepared for 2 hours of sacred space. We do mundane things - we eat, we talk about kids, the weather, football, vacations, work - or whatever. And then we huddle around and pray for one another. And we open Scripture and talk about last Sunday's sermon. In so doing, we step out of the normal rhythms of life and create a period of time (albeit short) in which we create sacred space. Note: We don't do so at the expense of the mundane or earthly. Instead, we join the two. We eat, we pray, we talk, we read the Bible. But it's in the sacred space that we slow down the grind of regular life and invite the Holy Spirit to do his work.

Those are just two example of sacred space. There are many more. We had one last night with our family as we talked to our children about Advent and read from Isaiah 9 and Luke 1. And I'll have to say, that kind of sacred space takes a lot of work. It's not always easy getting four kids to listen to Bible reading at 7:30 in the evening. But it's worth it.

Our theology group meets this coming Thursday to step into that sacred space together, with beers in hand, and chips and salsa ready for devouring. We may even say something helpful to one another in the span of three hours, Lord willing. Or, we may even have a conversation with the wait staff that will spark something of the spiritual in his or her mind that was previously not there, or that lay dormant too long. That's when the sacred and profane, spiritual and secular, meet.

(Anyone reading this is invited to come! Thursday at 8:30 at Kerbey Ln. We're talking about Rob Bell's book Love Wins, which if you have a copy you could probably read it in a few days.)

Hope

A thirteen-year-old boy whose family is part of our local church congregation died this morning at 11:30am. I didn't know him well, but I did observe that we was a sweet and compassionate kid. When my oldest son, who's 7 now, went to Rock the Rock (our version of vacation bible school), this young man reached out to and ministered to him. I am praying for and grieving with this family.

This is the second tragic death that I've been associated with in the last 7 days. One of my best friends' sister passed away after intermittent battles with cancer. She was 30 years old.

Some people leave us way too early. And we grieve over these. From their vantage point however, now safe in Jesus' arms, seeing him face to face and not through a glass darkly, they are in paradise. What would we do without this hope? And as St Paul says, hope is not wishful thinking. Hope does not disappoint us (Rom 5.5).

Mystery Spoiled by a Word

One motif for understanding theological method is built on three approaches that work together in balance: Cataphatic, Pietistic, and Apophatic*. Cataphatic is the part of doing theology that deals with reason. This involves using one's mind towards the development of doctrine. The Pietistic approach involves the worshipful aspect of knowing God. This requires that we experience God and interpret belief about God existentially.

The third approach, Apophatic, deals with the aspect of mystery. While Pietistic and Cataphatic approaches have much to affirm intellectually and existentially, Apophatic approaches preserve the aspect of mystery within Christian theology, while at the same time affirming reason and experience. It supports the idea that we are limited in not only our knowledge of God, but our ability to know God. This is due to epistemological challenges from the human perspective, as well as to the nature of God - who is infinite, omniscient, and wholly 'other'.

These three aspects of theological method provide a nice balance for one another. If the Pietistic approach is too accentuated then the emotional and existential is too emphasized. If the Cataphatic approach is too emphasized then our reason will become god, and the search for truth primarily an intellectual pursuit. If the Apophatic is too emphasized then it's easy to, as one of my professors used to say, "punt on second down." We will too quickly chalk everything up to mystery instead of doing the hard work of discovering truth. 

But despite the contribution of all three, the Apophatic approach is especially interesting to me. This may be due to the traditions from which I come, which speak very little about mystery. It may be due also to my lack of knowledge regarding Eastern theology.

I am reading Brennan Manning's book The Relentless Tenderness of Jesus (previously titled Lion and Lamb) from which this quote comes:

"When Catherine of Sienna, a dynamic contemplative in action, was asked to describe the God of her personal experience, she cried, "He is pazzo d'amore, ebro di'amore" - crazed with love, drunk with love. Yet her words are feeble and inadequate, as are all human words, because Mystery is spoiled by a word."

Words are useful, and I think they help our understanding of God - after all, God speaks to us through his word. But although they contribute to our understanding of God, they don't complete it. Knowing God is a holistic affair - mind, body, heart, soul, strength, experience, etc. God desires our whole selves. 

But the inadequacy of words is not an excuse for not using them. The word musterion appears in Paul's letter's often, describing the work of the gospel in bringing the Gentiles into the fold and creating what we know as the church. The mysteries of God are the deep and ineffable things of God which we believe and proclaim, but only partially understand. Perhaps on the day when we see Christ face to face we'll fully understand those truths. Whether or not we'll have the words then to describe what we experience remains to be seen.



*I have Dr. Scott Horrell to thank for introducing me to this method.

Sometimes You Just Need a Drink

Nothing deeply theological here...just a great video. It's an old one, but one I came across again.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yolUoethgHU&feature=player_embedded

Friendship and the Incarnation

I've learned a lot about friendship in my 30's. One of the things I've learned is that I have often not been a good friend to others. I tend to be 'out of sight out of mind' with friends, I don't follow up well, and I don't initiate simply spending time together. My wife often teases me for not keeping up with old friends, and, sadly, it's true. But over the past two years I've learned more about the positive aspects of being a friend, and mainly because I've learned from the example of new friends.

This is on my mind because my good friend Jon Lamb just moved to Kansas. We said our goodbyes on Saturday after twelve men from our church packed his Penske truck (in 45 minutes by the way), ate breakfast tacos and bid farewell. Jon and April have become dear friends to us and we will miss them already. I've learned a lot about being a good friend from Jon as well as from my friend Chris Kedroski and many others in our church.

Although I haven't always been a great friend, I've had the good fortune of having a lot of friends throughout my life. In college I had John 15.15 posted on my dorm room wall: "I no longer call you servants because a servant does not know his master's business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything I have learned from my Father I have made known to you." I have often thought about what a sublime truth that is - the second Person of the Trinity, the Incarnate Son of God, calls us friends.

I think it's interesting that in John 15 Jesus calls us friends based on what he's learned from the Father. It's not only the information passed on by the Father, to Jesus, and then to his disciples, but the example the Father sets for the Son that reveals the Father's will for his Son and all his children. Since the disciples are learning to follow Jesus in the context of being his friends, I wonder what role friendship plays in local church discipleship. Many of my formal discipleship relationships have not been in the context of natural friendships. In some cases friendships grew, in others they didn't. But I think much of my discipleship has come with 'rubbing shoulders' with friends who also have their eyes fixed on Jesus.

Praise God for his Son, my Savior, my Lord, and my friend. And praise God for friendships that help me to more like Jesus. 

Luther Kissing the Pope's Feet

On October 31st, 1999 the Lutheran World Council of Churches and the Catholic Church signed a document called The Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification, after many years of ecumenical dialogue on a doctrine essential to the distinction between these two major traditions. For some, this was a time of ecumenical and ecclesiastical success. For others, it was a time of compromise, or even a threat to the essence of the gospel. In either case, it was a step towards differing traditions understanding one another, and finding commonality after centuries of dispute.

Rereading Paul Together: Protestant and Catholic Dialogues on Justification, ed. David Aune, is a compilation of articles from both Lutheran and Catholic scholars. Some of the articles are responses to one another, and others are dealing with some of the major issues in Pauline studies, especially over the last 30 years of research. The various articles are some of the most balanced, honest, charitable and irenic of any scholarly articles I've ever read. The ecumenical intention is refreshing, not because the writers are seeking compromise but because there is a concerted effort to go back to the biblical text for the basis of Christian theology.

One of the most interesting quotes was Lutheran theologian Michael Root's reference to Luther's quote in his commentary on Galatians: "All we aim for is that the glory of God be preserved and that the righteousness of faith remain pure and sound. Once this has been established, namely that God alone justifies us solely by His grace through Christ, we are willing not only to bear the pope aloft on our hands but also to kiss his feet." Although Luther is likely speaking in hyperbole, we also know what he thought of the pope. These are strong words.

Root's point (and what much of book reiterates) is that distinctives within Lutheran theology, especially over and against Rome, may be eventually unnecessary if dialogue such as the Joint Declaration continues to bring together various traditions. The challenge is seeking common ground, while clinging to the true, biblical gospel - and of course agreeing on the nature of the gospel itself. It's a challenging endeavor, but one worth the fight if ecumencity among Christians across denominations is something to be actually realized.

John Owen Pt 2: One Act of God

John Owen's classic The Death of Death in the Death of Christ is laborious, arduous, and daunting. His style of writing (I am told by my friend Jon Lamb) belongs to an older age of English prose that began to change significantly not long after the book was published in 1684. Nevertheless it is a fascinating and compelling work on the significance of the Christ's atonement.

What I find to be particularly compelling is Owen's ability to tie all the facets of Christ's atonement into one singular, focused and purposeful work - a work that begins with God's intention for the elect and ends with his finished work for his people. Christ's oblation, intercession, justification, sanctification, calling, glorification and future hope are all facets of the same intention in God to save those for whom he has died. This unifying picture of God's work in Christ raises stirring questions for those who hold to some form of Arminianism and hypothetical Universalism. One question in particular is: Why would Christ suffer on the cross on behalf of sinners, paying for their sins, only to have them suffer again for those same sins in hell? This question implies that Christ's work is efficacious, or it does what it was intended to do. This implication of course is predicated on a view of election in which God specifically chooses, by the mystery of his will and for his glory, those who will inherit eternal life.

I've always had a bent towards Calvinism. I cut my teeth on the John Piper school of theology, embracing an Anabaptist/Radical Reformation view of the sacraments, and a staunch Calvinist view of Soteriology. However, I've always danced the line on whether I was a 4 or 5 point Calvinist. Of course a true Calvinist would say there is no such thing as a 4 point Calvinist, that's an Arminian. And I would see their point. I guess having attended DTS and having been involved in a tradition/movement that expressed a belief in unlimited atonement (drop the L in TULIP), I've always struggled to take a stand on the issue concerning the great question, "For whom did Christ die?"

But Owen's book makes me much less comfortable with the idea of unlimited atonement, specifically because I believe in unconditional election. If God, before the creation of the universe, chose us, sent his Son as the perfect God/Man to suffer and die for our sins, justified us in Christ, adopted us, sanctified, glorified and gave everlasting hope and life to us, then why would he only do part of that for others? In other words, why would God send his Son as the perfect God/Man to suffer and die for the non-elects' sins but do nothing else for them in the aforementioned sentence? Would he not die for those who he elected? Would he not adopt those whom he justified? Why would he die for those he never intended to elect, justify, call, adopt, sanctify and glorify?

The point is this: Embracing unconditional election and understanding God's work in Christ for the sake of lost sinners as one singular, interconnected, intentional work from beginning to end changes the way we think of the atonement. I believe that passages such as 1John 2.2, John 3.16, and 2Pet 3.9 make it difficult to not see God's love for all humankind. But although I don't have time to expound on it, I will say that Owen's arguments for not understanding 'world' 'all' and other seemingly universal words as meaning "every man, woman and child who ever lived, is living now, and ever will live" are compelling, and the opposing view seemingly indefensible.

I have to bring up my friend Jon Lamb again, who always asks, "So what's at stake?" Why does this matter? That part, I'm still figuring out. Often times practical issues as they relate to evangelism are discussed when limited vs unlimited atonement is in question. But hopefully one would not think that embracing limited atonement somehow devalues evangelism. I suppose it could, but it doesn't have to. The truth is that, unless you're a complete Universalist, the atonement in Christian orthodoxy will always be limited to some degree or another. Even an Arminian would admit that some people do not place their personal trust in Christ and thus pay for this sins. What good is Christ's death on their behalf in that case? Unlimited atonement brings me no additional comfort, in fact it's that much more heartbreaking considering that one's sins were paid for, and yet they rejected  the free gift in Christ. Limited atonement (or particular atonement) in fact is comforting, because it says that the work God intended in Christ for his children is one complete work with many facets, initiated before time began, and comes with a promise to be completed, to the glory of God. 

Synchronicity

All day Wednesday I struggled at work with boredom. It's not that I didn't have anything to do, it was that I didn't feel like doing anything. I was working from home, which is sometimes counterproductive. The house is too quiet and the climate control too comfortable for serious work. So my mind wandered and my body relaxed the more I slumped in my chair and stretched out my legs.

As soon as I went into work the next day I received an email titled: "Boredom at Work is Self Inflicted". It was from a daily devotional of a ministry called Work Life: http://www.worklife.org/

I felt like a complainer...and I was. It's absurd when you think about all the blessings and gifts and resources I've been given to provide for my family and live a comfortable life (comfortable in light of the world population, not necessarily middle or under middle class Americans). My current vocation does not line up with what I perceive to be my long-term vocational calling...so I often enjoy whining about it, which leads to boredom, self-loathing and apathy, instead of being thankful, which leads to praise, contentment and a gracious spirit.

What I was especially reminded of in all this was the power of the gospel, to redeem, transcend and inspire any given situation. Isn't that what makes the power of the gospel so great? The gospel is not controlled or produced by its context, but changes the lives of people within a given context in order for God's work to be made manifest in the world. It's a quiet power that moves in the hearts of men with indelible grace and strength.

Opening that email the other day was also a reminder of God's sense of humor in synchronicity, or 'an apparently meaningful coincidence.' I can't remember if I laughed or cussed, but the irony was wonderful. To receive that email, blasted out to thousands, the day after I struggled mightily with boredom, was, what I interpret as, God's providence. I don't look for 'synchronic signs' under every rock...but I know them when I see them.

May we all 'work as though working unto the Lord' (Col 3.22-24) and allow the peace of Christ to do the rest (Phil 4.4-7).

Revelation, not Explanation

My pastor, Keith Ferguson, is taking a break from his current Galatians series to preach on tragedy (Tragedy and Trinity is the sermon title), due to all the questions he's been getting about the relationship between God's goodness and omnipotence (Keith's blog: http://www.gospelrenewal.com/blog/). If God is in fact good, as well as sovereign and all-powerful, then why does he allow (or worse yet be the first cause of) tragedy in our world? This is often referred to as the theodicy, or the problem with evil. It's a legitimate problem, and one that all religions who believe in a personal God are forced to face.

One of the quotes Keith is using, which I think is great, is from a David Platt sermon:  

The greatest need that God says we have in the book of Job in the face of personal tragedy and immense suffering is not explanation, but revelation. David Platt, The Church At Brook Hills

In the face of tragedy trite explanations and tired cliches don't cut it. Unfortunately even Scripture sometimes doesn't cut it (yeah, I said it). If one of my children died in a car crash and someone said, "Well you know God works for the good of those..." I know that's true, but sadly that reminder probably wouldn't help. Instead I need a person to just be there, not an explanation for why something happened.

In the face of tragedy there's a balance that needs to be struck. On the one hand there is hope, a hope that we must cling to and remind ourselves of all the time. On the other hand there is an acceptance of the reality of the tragedy in which we find ourselves. A good friend from seminary was flying home a few years back for his father's funeral. His father died of a heart attack in his 50's. My friend, while at the airport, happened to run into one of the seminary's teaching assistants, who gave his condolences. My friend responded, "Well yeah, but he's in a better place." The teaching assistant paused for a moment and said, "Well yeah, but it still sucks." That was a powerful reminder that we shouldn't sugar coat tragedy. We don't sweep it under the rug so that we can feel better about it. It is what it is. Death is horrible - always. Even when a person is relieved of their current sufferings in this life. Death is an abomination. Suffering and sin and sadness are things that are not right with the world - and were not part of God's original intention for human beings. But the great hope we have is that all those things will pass away, when Christ returns in glory.

It's interesting in Job that the vast majority of the book is made up of attempts at explanation in the face of tremendous suffering. And then the voice of God drives home the fact that what Job needed was a Person, not an commentary. He needed a revelation, not an explanation. Our world needs Jesus, to come face to face with the Person, who is the only one who can deliver on hopeful promises.

Closed Handed / Open Handed

One of the greatest challenges in theology and ministry is differentiating between closed-handed and open-handed beliefs.

Closed-handed beliefs are those beliefs that we must hold to with relentless conviction. To not do so would be to compromise the core of Christian faith. These essential beliefs make Christianity what it is, giving it consistency and coherency. These basic beliefs are generally agreed upon among Christian denominations, although there are, of course, exceptions. Basic beliefs about the Trinity, the Fallenness of Humankind, the Hypo Static Union, the Incarnation, Salvation through Christ Alone by Grace, The Death, Resurrection, Ascension and Future Return of Christ, are all examples of those core Christian beliefs. To take any of these away would be to alter historical Christianity to the point of making it deficient, if not unrecognizable. These are closed-handed issues, because they are basically not up for debate.

Open handed beliefs on the other hand are those beliefs which may be important, but about which Christians of various traditions and backgrounds can comfortably embrace disagreement. These beliefs can be debated without threatening the cogency and coherency of Christianity. Differing views on Baptism and the Eucharist for instance are examples of these (although Baptism and the Eucharist cannot be abandoned altogether to maintain orthodoxy). And even beyond these examples there are issues even more open-handed, such as style of worship music and forms of discipleship and local church programming. These are sometimes referred to by the Greek word adiaphora, or 'non-essentials'.

But unfortunately life is not as clean cut as simply drawing a line between what's most important and what's less important. For instance, how do we even decide what is closed-handed and open-handed? Even if Christendom on the whole agrees on the six or seven closed-handed issues listed above, aren't there a myriad of other issues that various traditions can find reason to argue over? Quite frankly, there are.

I've encountered an example of this struggle with differentiating closed-handed and open-handed issues just this week. I had a good friend who applied for a pastor position at a church in Austin. Right before the final handshake and acceptance of the formal offer, the hiring pastor decided to ask my friend what he 'thought about drinking' (alcohol that is). My friend gave a balanced, and biblical view of drinking: Alcohol is not innately evil, and Jesus drank wine. There is no Scriptural prohibition of alcohol except for the command to not get drunk on wine. Therefore there is liberty in this area. Of course, the pastor would not have asked this unless he had a bone to pick. As soon as my friend answered the question it was if a bomb had gone off in the pastor's office. The pastor began to present his own legalistic and tradition-driven view of alcohol. My friend obviously dodged a bullet with this one. 

So what gives us an anchor for establishing and maintaining consistency in differentiating closed-handed and open-handed issues? It's one thing to debate issues which are adiaphora, but it's another to debate on more central topics such as Who is God? I would suggest that the ancient Christian creeds offer the anchor we need, and the Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed in particular (381). This creed forms the basis for articulating historic Christian faith. The great church historian and theologian J.N.D. Kelly has an wonderful quote on the way in which this creed creates unity in the universal and global Body of Christ:

Of all existing creed it is the only one of which ecumenicity, or universal acceptance, can be plausibly claimed. Unlike the purely Western Apostles' Creed, it was admitted as authoritative in East and West alike from 451 onwards, and it has retained that position, with one significant variation in its text, right down to the present day. So far from displacing it, the Reformation reaffirmed its binding character and gave it a new lease of life and an extended currency by translating it into the vernacular tongues. It is thus one of the few threads by which the tattered fragments of the divided robe of Christendom are held together. (Kelly, Early Christian Creeds, 296, Italics mine)

This quote obviously speaks to the known disunity in Christianity, but also to its unity, specifically in the creed of 381. The creeds offer a glimmer of hope for the 'divided robe of Christendom'.

In reflecting upon closed and open handed issue, St Augustine's famous quote is always applicable: "In essentials unity, in non-essentials liberty, in all things, charity."

John Owen Pt. 1: Oblation and Intercession

I'm in a theology group/book club that reads and discusses one book a quarter. It's pretty unofficial and casual. We meet at Austin's classic restaurant Kerbey Ln and discuss what we've read until we stop making sense. We may drink a beer or take down some caffeine, but my personal goal is to eat at least a thousand chips with salsa. I love Kerbey's chips and salsa.

So the book we're reading currently is the most difficult thus far: The great Puritan theologian, John Owen's The Death of Death in the Death of Christ. It is the pinnacle work against the theology of universal redemption, or hypothetical universal redemption (i.e. all are saved, and/or Christ died for all, respectively). They say ('they' being random people I've talked to plus J.I. Packer in the book's introduction) that no one has adequately responded to Owen's argument since it was published in 1684. That's pretty impressive, because that was published 327 years ago.

I have to admit that it's taken awhile to get used to Owen's writing. It's bizarrely awkward. You would think that one could chalk it up to the time period in which is was written, however, even Packer admits that Owen is not a typical writer, even for his time. He seems to write in long-winded streams of consciousness that are hard to follow.

But despite the difficulty, it's obvious that Owen has something to say, and that there is a tenacious logic driving his argument. In the section I'm reading currently he is dealing with the concepts of oblation and intercession. Oblation meaning the suffering of Christ on our behalf. Intercession being the substitutionary atonement for our sins. Owen's arugment is that these two distinct facets of the cross are necessarily and inextricably bound to one another, so that they cannot be fully understood and appreciated apart from one another within the framework of salvation theology. This is because God purposed in Christ to save those for whom he died. For Owen, Christ died for the elect and his paying for their sins was an efficacious work which would be fulfilled unconditionally. In other words, Why would Christ pay for the sins of someone who would then be damned to hell in order to pay for the sins already paid for by Christ? Owen would say that that hypothetical situation would make the cross worthless. Strong words. But also a strong argument.

There is much more to this concept, and much more to come in the book (I'm only 70 pages in), but I have to admit that one thing I am wondering about is whether or not it will be difficult to determine when Owen is simply being logical and when he is being biblical. By no means are those things mutually exclusive, however, because something is logical doesn't require it to be biblical, and vice versa. Interestingly, Calvinists tend to be relentlessly logical, and Owen is no exception. In fact Cavlinist arguments are normally sophisticated, intricate, and logically consistent. Moreover, the traditions stemming from Calvinism no doubt deminstrate a cerebral bent. This makes reading Owen's work critically, intimidating. We'll have to see how the book continues, and if there is anyone out there to respond to Owen's argument. 

The Terrible Inefficiency of a Devotional Life

Recently I sat down in front of my computer to 'revamp' my personal work and life schedule. My work-life balance was horribly off - I was working from home every night, skipping lunch and it seemed that there was a ministry event at church every other night. I was remembering Gordon MacDonald's nervous breakdown in the face of a hectic work schedule (Ordering Your Private World, MacDonald). So with my Excel spreadsheet glowing on my computer screen I filled in the little boxes that represented the various elements of my life.

Two weeks into my plan things seemed to be working well. I was going into work earlier, not bringing work home, and prioritizing my days. All was well, or so it seemed.

All was well until I realized that my devotional life was suffering. I still had a tiny box on the bottom of my Excel sheet, for 6:30am, relegated to 'Quiet Time'. But that 'slot' in my schedule was suffering.

I mentioned this to my good friend Jon and his remark was interesting. He pointed out that devotional time was one of the most inefficient things a person can do. In an effort to improve efficiency I pushed out, unknowingly, one of the most inefficient things I did - morning reading of Scripture and prayer.

Devotional time doesn't make me any more money. It doesn't make my boss happy, it doesn't help me leave work right at 5pm. It doesn't help my morning routine to prepare for work, or my evening routine with the family. It's simply me being still and listening...and reading and praying. And sometimes writing. It doesn't advance my agenda.

At the same time, paradoxically, it's extremely critical to everything I do - as it relates family, work, ministry and every other aspect of life. It influences all of life because it re-orients my heart and mind to God's priorities, whether those things are efficient or not. (Not to say that all of life shouldn't be 'devoted' to God and that continuous prayer shouldn't be indicative of our lives. However, I believe setting aside specific time is critical).

And when you think about, just about all of ministry is that way. It's not only inefficient but also a hassle. It's a hassle sometimes to initiate with my neighbors, take a co-worker out to lunch that needs to hear the gospel, spend extra time praying with my children, or serve weekly in the local church. But what in the world would I be doing if I wasn't doing those things?

Martin Luther said it best when asked how he could fulfill all his personal ministerial responsibilities and still have time to spend several hours a day in prayer and devotional time. He said, (paraphrase) "I'm too busy not to spend that time in prayer before the Lord." The pressure of a busy schedule should drive us to prayer and study and its inefficiencies will ultimately bear fruit that far surpasses the fruit of an 'efficient' life.

Justification

I've been mulling over the subject of Justification since I read NT Wright's book which bears the doctrine's name. Controversial as the book has been, I have found the debate/conversation between he and John Piper (and many others) to be somewhat blase. Although there are distinct differences in their perspectives on Justification (i.e. justification equated to 'covenant faithfulness' and Wright's view on 2Cor 5.21, among others), it seems unreasonable (dare I say melodramatic) to say that the doctrine of Justification itself is at stake in this debate. Be that as it may, the debate has me thinking about the subject.

Just this week the subject of Justification came up again while I was reading through Jaroslav Pelikan's third volume of his magnum opus, The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine, Vol 3: The Growth of Medieval Theology. One wouldn't expect to hear the word justification (at least I wouldn't) while reading about 7th century theology. However, Pelikan introduces the reader to a theologian of that time period, Julian of Toledo and his predecessor, Ildefonsus . Pelikan describes Julian's view of 'faith alone':

Occasionally this idea of 'grace alone' could even lead to the corollary of 'faith alone', as when Julian of Toledo declared that 'all effort of human argument must be postponed where faith alone is sufficient.' 'The righteousness of faith, by which we are justified' consisted in this, 'that we believe in him whom we do not see, and that, being cleansed by faith, we shall eventually see him in whom we now believe.' His predecessor on the episcopal throne of Toledo, Ildefonsus, spoke even more strongly when he prayed: 'God, who dost make the unclean clean and who by taking away sins dost justify the sinner without work.' Because this passage sounded so much like the teachings of the Protestant Reformers of the sixteenth century, it was expunged from some manuscripts of Ildefonsus' On the Virginity of Mary by 'readers who 'were more pious and learned'....who feared that by the misinterpretation of these words Ildefonsus could be accused of the heretical teaching that men could be saved by faith alone.' (p. 27, Pelikan) (all emphasis mine)

Julian and Ildefonsus sound a bit like Protestant Reformers...800 or so years before the Reformation. Protestant Reformers such as Calvin and Luther always stressed that they did not attempt to invent new ideas, but went back to ancient sources, Augustine in particular, to uncover the heart of Christian faith and to revitalize that which (they believe) had been lost in the church's corruption. It seems that they may have had more supporters than one might normally assume.

But Julian's work is not a surprise to many, who believe that Justification as a doctrine can be traced in church history pre-Reformation (see DH Williams, Evangelicals and Tradition, p.129). Evangelical scholars such as Timothy George and Thomas Oden are among those who concur.

However, despite such a strand (and there are other examples) it seems there will always, at least at this rate, be a difference between Protestant and Catholic. Traditionally Catholic (Roman Catholic) theology carries some of the same language of Protestantism, but never fails to emphasize the roles of human and divine cooperation:

1992 Justification has been merited for us by the Passion of Christ who offered himself on the cross as a living victim, holy and pleasing to God, and whose blood has become the instrument of atonement for the sins of all men. Justification is conferred in Baptism, the sacrament of faith. It conforms us to the righteousness of God, who makes us inwardly just by the power of his mercy. Its purpose is the glory of God and of Christ, and the gift of eternal life (Cathechism)

There's a lot packed in that statement which someone more qualified could exegete, but the key words and phrases are 'merited for us', 'faith' and 'sacrament'. But a few lines down the word 'cooperation' is introduced:

1993 Justification establishes cooperation between God's grace and man's freedom. On man's part it is expressed by the assent of faith to the Word of God, which invites him to conversion, and in the cooperation of charity with the prompting of the Holy Spirit who precedes and preserves his assent...

The concept of cooperation is what, I think, begins to drive apart Protestant and Catholic. In Roman Catholicism, the role of the Christian is to add to his or her salvation, through the sacraments and by God's grace, thus making justification an on-going reality, not a momentary, forensic declaration of innocence, imputing the righteousness of Christ to the individual. So despite the common strand of justification, found even in the middle ages, it seems there will always be a difference between Protestant and Catholic doctrine in this regard. The debate continues as to how critical these differences are.

So with this on my mind, I listened to several lectures by NT Wright that he gave at Wheaton College about a year ago. He was asked point blank: "How is a person saved?" I was looking forward to the answer, as his previous answers were long, detailed, sophisticated and articulate. But this answer was short: "Grace."

Well, I guess we can all agree on that.

Find Wright's lectures here: http://www.wheaton.edu/wetn/lectures-theology10.htm