Stop Your Self-Loathing Ways!

“You say you feel overwhelmed with guilt and a sense of unworthiness.

Well, you cannot be too aware of the inward and inbred evils you complain of, but you may be (indeed you are) improperly controlled and affected by them.

You say it is hard to understand how a holy God could accept such an awful person as yourself.

You, then, not only express a low opinion of yourself (which is right!) but also too low an opinion of the person, work, and promises of the Redeemer, which is wrong. . .

You complain about sin, but when we examine your complaints, they are so full of self-righteousness, unbelief, pride, and impatience that they are little better than the worst evils you complain of!”

Works of John Newton, 6:185.

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What Role Does Experience Play in Your Theology? – Part 2

Whether consciously or unconsciously received, experience affects the way evangelicals interpret texts that deal with . . .

  • God the Father
  • God the Son
  • God the Holy Spirit
  • sign gifts
  • demons
  • divorce and remarriage
  • assurance of salvation
  • social injustice
  • apocalyptic and prophetic texts

. . . to name just a few.

The experience of personal physical suffering and the physical suffering of loved ones can also reshape our perceptions of God. One’s theological views may change in the heat of crisis, or in the accumulation of experiences in the mundane procession of life. Both for good and for ill, experience colors our perspective and adds definition to our understanding of God and His written word.

Robert McAfee Brown has maintained that experience grounds and places an interpreter within a particular viewing location in life. Regarding one’s perspective of reality, he concludes that:

  • What we see is not necessarily what is there.
  • What we see depends on where we are standing.
  • When others tell us what they see, we need to know where they are standing as well as where we are standing.
  • No matter how much anybody sees, nobody sees it all.
  • What we see is always subject to correction (Brown, Theology in A New Key, 60).

While Brown’s statements invite critique at several points, it can be agreed that perspective, the interpreter’s “viewing location,” is affected by prior life experiences. Acknowledging this does not mean buying into a whimsical interpretive relativism. However, it does lead us to the irrefutable fact that evangelicals “stand” at different places of surveillance in their reading of Scripture.

One author puts this way, “Theological work properly reflects a life-long involvement on the part of the theologian in the experience and language of the Christian community. A continuity of experience links the horizon of past Christian communities and the texts they produced to the interpreter in the present. As the theologian is molded by the Christian community and its uses of language, he or she is introduced into a chain of experience which extends back to the scriptural beginnings of the [Jesus] tradition” (Omnen, “Preunderstanding,” 248-49).

Experience, then, is not necessarily an adversary to sound doctrine. Rather, sound doctrine provides a framework that corrects, supports, gives meaning to the experiences of individual Christians. As McGrath keenly notes, “It is the sheer elusiveness of human experience, its obstinate refusal to be imprisoned within a verbal matrix, which underlies the need for … doctrine” (McGrath, Genesis of Doctrine, 66-72).

In this same connection, Frame’s reminder is helpful:

“… there is … experience by which we grow in Christian maturity—the experience of living the Christian life, meeting challenges, succeeding, failing, praying, finding answers to prayers, persevering when answers aren’t given, struggling against sin, and enduring hardship for Christ’s sake. In many situations we live out those experiences described in Scripture; we experience what the Lord Jesus and His great saints experienced. Experience in this sense is important in showing us the meaning of Scripture” (Frame, Doctrine of the Knowledge of God, 334-35).

While acknowledging that experience serves a role in informing our theological theology, there is an ongoing need for prudent accountability in this matter. Experience must always play a subordinate role to Scripture. Scripture must inform one’s personal experiences. Experiences must be subject to the scrutiny of other mature believers (Gal. 2:2, 6, 10; 1 Thess. 5:19-22; Luke 10:16; John 13:20; 1 John 4:1, 6). Not to heed this will run the risk of all sorts of self-deception. As a general rule problems arise: (1) when those in leadership stifle believers’ experiences; and (2) when believers with experiences cast aside the spiritual discretion of those in leadership

Individual subjectivity will always require the discretion of collective objectivity, a mature, humble objectivity that is biblically-informed and animated by the Holy Spirit. Collective objectivity of the Christian community tests, in all ways possible, one’s subjective impressions, so that the community as a whole may arrive at a true and reliable interpretation of reality.

Let’s hear your comments on this proposal . . .

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Many Christians Are “Binitarians”

” . . . even though . . . Christianity has maintained (strongly so) its trinitarian way of speaking about, and even sometimes of thinking about, God, in everyday life believers are practicing binitarians, in almost all areas of Christian life, except in the creeds themselves. Thus in their practical life in the world, there is very little self-conscious awareness of one’s life being filled with, or led by, the Holy Spirit. And the same generally seems to hold true in church worship and theological life, although in both cases there is a generally consistent doffing the hat toward the Spirit, as it were; but at the base there seems to be a general unease about Spirit talk. And it is precisely this tendency toward wariness regarding the Spirit that has allowed the biblical language to gravitate toward (I would say, degenerate into) a usage that is totally without biblical foundations.”

Gordon D. Fee, “On Getting the Spirit Back into Spirituality,” in Life in the Spirit: Spiritual Formation in Theological Perspective, ed. Jeffrey Greenman and George Kalantzis (InterVarsity, 2010), 37-38.

photo courtesy of grace communion international

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What Role Does Experience Play in Your Theology? – Part 1

Illustration by Johannah Bluedorn Stanford

In a blog post  titled “When Biography Shapes Theology,” Gregory Alan Thornbury notes how life experiences have a significant impact upon one’s theology.  He compares the lives of Friedrich Nietzsche and Søren Kierkegaard.   Both endured tragic losses in their lives, but Nietzsche turned away from God and Kierkegaard turned closer to God.

Unless you grew up in a Charismatic or Pentecostal church, many of us within the evangelical tradition were cautioned to steer clear of “experiences.”  In reaction to the experiential excesses of neo-paganism, the 1960s drug culture, varieties of theological liberalism, and perhaps because of rigorously rational outlooks, some evangelicals have been quite suspicious of experience. Experience can lead to an unrestrained subjectivism and a self-focused relativism. To be sure, some boundaries are necessary whenever experience is appealed to as an informing source of theology.

Emotional extremes aside, experience remains an active force in shaping one’s theology. This is a truism that goes without saying, but evangelicals need to be reminded of this from time to time. By “experience” we are referring to those conscious perceptions of reality that we have accrued over time. As our lived experiences get deeply embedded in our thinking they serve as filters in our perceptions of God and the Bible.

Church history bears ample testimony to the role of experience in the lives of key leaders, particularly those held in high esteem by the evangelical community. As examples, we think of . . .

  • The “voice” Augustine heard in Ambrose’s garden in Milan
  • Luther’s pre-conversion pilgrimage to Rome and his consequent struggle over the meaning of Romans 1:17
  • Jonathan Edwards’ acknowledgement of the role of the “affections” in conversion and spirituality in America’s first Great Awakening
  • Wesley’s belief that tradition, reason, and experience serve a subordinate, yet supportive role in theology
  • Martyn Lloyd-Jones’ appeal to pastoral experience in the writing of his book Spiritual Depression: Its Causes and Its Cure

In each instance these leaders took their subjective apprehensions of reality and attempted to align them with Scripture. Other instances from well-known and lesser-known Christians could be mentioned. One in particular is worth noting. Wilbur Pickering,  a Wycliffe Bible translator, recalls his experience on the mission field in Brazil:

“I went to the Amazon jungle in 1963 in order to begin our ministry among the Apurina people (along the Purus River in the state of Amazonas, Brazil). So far as I know I was the first one to challenge Satan’s dominion over this people, a total domination over the centuries. My basic purpose in being there was to see if I could remove that people from Satan’s house and take them into Jesus’ house, if I could transfer them from the kingdom of darkness to the kingdom of light. But unfortunately, in spite of a Master of Theology degree and having read the Bible through several times, I was not aware of these truths. I got clobbered! I got it without mercy, until I had enough. Satan wiped the floor with me. He didn’t think my idea was the least bit funny, and I didn’t know how to defend myself–actually I didn’t really understand what was happening. . . . I was skeptical about the activity of demons. Oh yes, I knew that demons and Satan exist, because the Bible is clear and emphatic on that score, but I knew very little about how they operate and virtually nothing about the use of our weapons, whether for defense or offense. My theological background, both formal and informal, was strictly ‘traditional’–casting out demons and things of that sort was ‘pentecostal.’ My professors transmitted the idea that a servant of Christ was untouchable or exempt from demonic attack; that sort of thing wouldn’t be a problem for us” (Pickering, “Spiritual Warfare,” 3).

Faced with years of what he perceived and believed to be demonic phenomena, Pickering had to corroborate his experience with Scripture. Exorcism and other defensive measures against the spirit world became a significant part of his belief system. Pickering’s story is not unique among seasoned missionaries.

Interestingly, some evangelicals are skeptical of experiences such as Pickering’s, because they themselves, ironically enough, have not experienced such things! In the second part of this two-part post we will consider the character of biblically-consistent experiences.

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Bad Moods

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“By a bad mood we mean . . . any feeling state that does not come under the influence of the Holy Spirit because it tends to move us away from the desire to love and serve God and others. . . . We must remember that a bad mood is not a sign that God is absent from us; it simply means that God’s presence has not transformed the feeling dimension of our inner experience. . . . ”

Richard J. Hauser, Moving in the Spirit, 43, 50.

photo courtesy of auremar / 123RF Stock Photo

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Life Without the Holy Spirit

Without the Holy Spirit, God is distant,
Christ remains in the past,
the Gospel is a dead letter,
the Church is just an organization,
authority consists of dominating others,
mission is propaganda,
worship is boring ritual,
following Christ is a life of exhausting servitude.

But with the Holy Spirit,
the cosmos is uplifted and groans
in giving birth to the kingdom,
the risen Christ is here, among us, and noticeable,
the Gospel throbs with life and joy,
the Church is in communion with the Trinity,
mission is a work of the Spirit,
worship is both memorial and anticipation,
broken people are transformed into the likeness of Christ.

*My slightly modified version of a prayer from the Eastern Orthodox Church

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Impact? Or Faithfulness?

Photo Courtesy of ©National Geographic/050310_meteorcrate

The Barringer Crater in Arizona is about 4,000 feet in diameter, and nearly six hundred feet deep. Clearly, the meteor that blasted it made an impact on the world.

I, too, had always thought that I wanted to make an impact.

Of course, comparing my life goal with the Barringer Crater is a bit extreme—especially since the meteor strike was so destructive and my goal was constructive. But from the time I was old enough to begin to think about the shape I wanted my life to take, I would have said something like this:

“I want to change the world for Christ—even it’s just a small part of it. I want to make a difference. I want to use the gifts that God has given me to leave a mark. I want to make an impact.”

A good goal? Perhaps—my desire was driven by the observation that so many Christians drift through life, careless of their opportunities, wasteful of their days and gifts, content with mediocrity, and seeking comfort and ease above all else.

I still believe that Christ wants more from us—and for us—than that.

But increasingly, I’m thinking that my life’s goal is not to make an impact, but to be faithful.

What Difference Does It Make?

“Big deal,” someone says. “What’s the difference?”

It seems to me that there are several differences, all of them rooted in the fact that the desire to make an impact leads us to focus on the results of our efforts. The desire to be faithful leads us to focus on the Master.

  • The desire to make an impact can lead to discouragement when we face setbacks, obstacles and the lack of obvious results. Yet the desire to be faithful leads us into peace, as we trust that God can use our faithfulness, even if there aren’t immediately visible results.
  • The desire to make an impact can lead to restlessness and impatience. Pastors, for example, sometimes leave churches because they’re convinced they aren’t making an impact. The desire to be faithful can lead to greater contentment and patience, as we focus on things we can control, like our love for God and others.
  • The desire to make an impact can lead to jealousy, as we compare ourselves to others. We see someone who is having an obvious impact, and we think: “Why can’t I have those kind of results?” The desire to be faithful leads us to rejoice in how God is using others.
  • The desire to make an impact can lead to pride, as we falsely assume that the results we do see are of our own making. The desire to be faithful leads us to the humble acknowledgement that all praise is due to God.

I’m not suggesting that we are to be apathetic in our walk with Christ. Nor am I suggesting that Christ does not intend for His Church to make an impact on the world. He does—it is salt and light to a dark and decaying world. But the impact of our lives is not our business. It’s God’s. Our task is faithfulness. What He does with our faithfulness is up to Him. Notice how the apostle Paul prays for the church in Colossae: “that you would be filled with the knowledge of His will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, so that you will walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, to please Him in all respects, bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God” (Colossians 1:9-10).

Impact or faithfulness? Do you find the distinction useful?


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Tozer on Spiritual Dryness

“Periods of staleness in the life are not inevitable but they are common. He is a rare Christian who has not experienced times of spiritual dullness when the relish has gone out of his heart and the enjoyment of living has diminished greatly or departed altogether. Since there is no single cause of this condition there is no one simple remedy for it.

Sometimes we are to blame, as for instance when we do a wrong act without immediately seeking forgiveness and cleansing; or when we permit worldly interests to grow up and choke the tender plants of the inner life. When the cause is known, and particularly when it is as uncomplex as this, the remedy is the old-fashioned one of repentance. But if after careful and candid examination of the life by prayer and the Word no real evil is discovered, we gain nothing by putting the worst construction on things and lying face down in the dust. To say that we have not sinned when we have is to be false to the fact; to insist that we have sinned when we have not is to be false to ourselves. There comes a time when the most spiritual thing we can do is to accept cleansing from all sin as an accomplished fact and stop calling that unclean which God has called clean.

Sometimes our trouble is not moral but physical. As long as we are in these mortal bodies our spiritual lives will be to some degree affected by our bodies. Here we should notice that there is a difference between our mortal bodies and the ‘flesh’ of Pauline theology. When Paul speaks of the flesh he refers to our fallen human nature, not to our physical bodies, which are temples of the Holy Spirit. Through the power of the Spirit there is deliverance from the propensities of the flesh, but while we live there is no relief from the weaknesses and imperfections of the body.

One often-unsuspected cause of staleness is fatigue. Shakespeare said something to the effect that no man could be a philosopher when he had a toothache, and while it is possible to be a weary saint, it is scarcely possible to be weary and feel saintly; and it is our want of feeling that we are considering here. The Christian who gets tired in the work of the Lord and stays tired without relief beyond a reasonable time will go stale. The fact that he grew weary by toiling in the Lord’s vineyard will not make his weariness any less real. Our Lord knew this and occasionally took His disciples aside for a rest.

Another reason some of us become jaded is monotony. To do one thing continuously will result in boredom even if what we do is pleasant: and to think about the same things without cessation will also lead to boredom even if we are thinking about the things of the kingdom. Milton suggests that God made night to alternate with day for the purpose of providing us with ‘grateful vicissitude,’ a welcome change for which we should be thankful.

Some of the purest souls have written of the dangers of continuous spiritual exercises uninterrupted by lowlier considerations. Von Hugel speaks of the ‘neural cost’ of prayer and advises that we should sometimes break off thoughts of heavenly things and go for a walk or dig in the garden. We have all known the disappointment felt when returning to a passage of Scripture that had been so fresh and fragrant the day before only to find the sweetness gone out of it. It is the Spirit’s way of urging us on to new vistas. In the wilderness God kept Israel moving. One may wonder what would have happened if they had camped in one place for forty years. The lives of the great Christians show that they differed not only from each other but from themselves at different periods of their lives. Spiritual exercises that helped them at one stage of their development later became useless and had to be changed for others.

To stay free from religious ennui we should be careful not to get into a rut, not even into a good rut. Our Lord warned against vain repetition. There is repetition that is not vain, but oft-repeated prayers become vain when they have lost their urgency. We should examine our prayers every now and again to discover how much sincerity and spontaneity they possess. We should insist on keeping them simple, candid, fresh and original. And above all we should never seek to induce holy emotions. When we feel dry it is wise either to ignore it or to tell God about it without any sense of guilt. If we are dry because of some wrong on our part the Spirit through the Word will show us the fault.

In short, we can keep from going stale by getting proper rest, by practising complete candour in prayer, by introducing variety into our lives, by heeding God’s call to move onward and by exercising quiet faith always.”

A. W. Tozer, “How to Keep from Going Stale,” Alliance Witness, (May 17, 1961), 96:10, 2.

photo courtesy of picasa/morkel erasmus

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The Profound Depths of the Human Heart

“The heart is deep” (Psalm 64:6).

For over three centuries, John Wesley (1703-1791) has left a lasting imprint on the spiritual character of the varied spectrum of evangelical Christianity. A  little known fact about Wesley was his appreciation of the writings of certain Eastern Church Fathers. Of the many Eastern Fathers that Wesley read, one of his favorites was an unknown author commonly referred to as “Pseudo-Macarius” (380-430). This writer, best known for a collection of fifty “spiritual homilies,” was a monk who lived in Syria or Asia Minor. Wesley drew from Macarius to articulate the importance of constant prayer, moment-by-moment dependency upon the Holy Spirit, and the role of love in Christian maturity. Wesley also appreciated Macarius’ understanding of the biblical metaphors of God as “light.” “Light” represents God himself, his righteousness, harmony, truth, and beauty.

Perhaps where Macarius provides the richest contribution to the history of Christian spirituality is his intriguing exposition of biblical truths related to the human heart. Macarius was a theologian who saw the centrality of the human heart in the process of spiritual transformation.  Although he recognized that the heart is the physical organ in the chest that pumps blood throughout the body, Macarius understood the heart as the source and spiritual center of human existence. The “heart” is  the wellspring not so much of our emotions, but of our intelligence and wisdom, and is the integration center of the conscience.

  • “The heart directs and governs all the other organs of the body” (Homily 15:20).
  • “For there, in the heart, the mind (nous) abides as well as all the thoughts of the soul and all its hopes” (Homily 15:20).
  • Grace and sin are experienced in the heart: “There is found the office of justice and of injustice. There is death and there is life” (Homily 15:32).
  • The heart is the arena where we encounter God, “the palace of Christ ,” where he “sets up his Kingdom” (Homily 15:33).

Macarius used vivid imagery regarding the contours, compartments, and distinguishing features of the human heart:

“There are infinite depths to the human heart. There are found reception rooms, bedrooms, doors and antechambers, many offices and exits. There is found the office of justice and of injustice. There is death and there is life. There takes place upright business as well as the contrary” (Homily 15.32).

“And the heart itself is but a small vessel, yet there also are dragons and there are lions; there are poisonous beasts and all the treasures of evil. And there are rough and uneven roads; there are precipices. But there is also God, also the angels, the life and the kingdom, the light and the Apostles, the treasures of grace – there are all things.”(Homily 43.7).

“Take the example of a great palace that is deserted and all kinds of stench and odors from many cadavers come out of it. So also the heart is the palace of Christ and it abounds with every kind of impurity and with great crowds of evil spirits. It is, therefore, necessary to repair and rebuild it; its storerooms and bedrooms must be cleaned up. For Christ the King with his angels and spirits is coming there so that he may find his rest, he may live and move about freely and set up his kingdom. I say it is like a ship that is equipped with much equipment over which the captain rules and directs all the sailors, urging some on with correction, directing others. In the same way, the heart has a captain in the mind, the conscience, that tests the thoughts that accuse and defend. For it says: ‘Thoughts accusing or else excusing one another’ (Rom 2:15)” (Homily 15.33).

In ways similar to Macarius of the fifth century, later authors in the history of Christian spirituality would refer to the heart as containing “rooms.” Two notable works bear mention in this connection: Teresa of Avila’s Interior Castle (1577), and Robert Boyd Munger’s My Heart: Christ’s Home (1954). Along with Macarius, these authors recognized and amplified the biblical truth that, “the inward mind and heart of a man are deep” (Ps. 64:6). The heart is the arena of prayer, the zone of all things spiritual–both that which is good and that which is evil.

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