A Fresh Perspective

I believe that the more inclusive one’s Christian faith becomes (or for that matter any religious tradition) the more transformative and real and spiritually healthy it becomes. The more dualistic a faith is the more its adherents concern themselves with who is “in” and who is “out,” who is “saved” and “unsaved,” and in the more fundamentalist versions of Christianity this means separating those who are going to heaven from those who are going to hell. Dualistic believing Christians employ different methods and criteria in determining who is in and who is out. The criteria may include church membership, baptism, believing certain doctrines, adopting certain formulas like saying the sinner’s prayer, etc. For example, I have a Christian friend who was labeled “unsaved” by some of his more conservative Christian friends because he doesn’t believe in the virgin birth. Certainly I believe that church membership, baptism, Christian doctrine, etc, have their place, but I am convinced th

The Advent of Jesus marked a gigantic leap forward in the evolution of religious thought. Jesus broke old, unhealthy patterns of relating to the Divine which were rooted in our projections of fear and our tendency to transfer guilt. In ancient religious practice it was commonplace to offer up either a human or animal sacrifice in order to pacify and appease the deity. This was practically a universal pattern of ancient religious cultures—offering up the firstborn, the virgin, the best of the herd or flock to propitiate the deity. Jesus related to and spoke about a God (Abba) of providential care and grace. His acceptance of “sinners and tax collectors,” his compassion towards the diseased, the demonized, and the destitute, his inclusion of those excluded, revealed a God who cares deeply about the oppressed, the marginalized, and the condemned of the world, a God of unconditional love. And yet this was no mere sentimentalism. Jesus confronted and challenged the hypocrisy, rigidity,

Alan Jones, in his book Reimagining Christianity , shares the old story about two frogs. He calls them Bill and Ted. Ted lived by the ocean, Bill lived in a well. When Ted tried to explain the vastness and beauty of the ocean, Bill was impressed, but couldn’t get his brain around it, “You mean it’s so enormous that it’s half as big as this well?” Ted tried and tried to covey the hugeness of the ocean, but Bill, so impressed with his own little world, just couldn’t grasp it. In the end, Ted persuaded Bill to make the long journey to the ocean to see for himself, and after a series of adventures they came to a hill from which the mighty ocean could be seen. Leading Bill up to the crest, Ted finally said, “Now, open your eyes.” When Bill opened his eyes and saw the vastness of the ocean, its expansive shining presence, his head exploded in a thousand pieces. This could be a parable for our time. I have experienced the explosion from both sides. I remember when a professor of New Testame

In some of my conversations with Christians about theology I’m discovering believers who are far more gracious, inclusive, and compassionate than their beliefs. A case in point: Baptists Today is currently running a series of articles on the topic, “Homosexuality and the Church.” People who have different perspectives have been assigned to present their point of view. The pastor who wrote the article for part 2 (November, vol. 27, no. 11 issue) set forth a theology of condemnation. The harsh, condemnatory language of the Bible was cited and argued that it is all applicable for today. The reader was made to expect, based on the severe, wrathful, condemnatory language of the Bible cited, that the conclusion would be one of condemnation. And yet the author concludes (even though he has argued that the Bible, meaning God, condemns the homosexual with angry, vindictive language) that to fail to show compassion toward the homosexual is inexcusable. He even says: “The church should suppor

We come to know God through both understanding and experience, which are always limited. Think of the story of Moses standing before the God who appeared to him “in a flame of fire out of a bush” (Ex. 3:2). When Moses inquires as to God’s name, trying to understand God and wanting to explain who God is to his people, God responds, “I am who I am.” The name communicates mystery and ambiguity. Why? Because a name cannot capture God; God can go by many names. To define God by a name would be to confine God to a particular expression of God’s self. Later in the story of Moses’ relationship with God Moses asks to see (experience) God’s glory (Ex. 33:18). In the interchange between God and Moses God says, “And while my glory passes by I will put you in a cleft of the rock, and I will cover you with my hand until I have passed by; then I will take away my hand, and you shall see my back; but my face shall not be seen.” What’s that about? It’s the biblical writer’s way of saying that w

Here’s a quote from Michael Lewis’ book, Coach: Lessons on the Game of Life . Lewis it talking about his high school baseball coach: “Most kids don’t get it” . . . By “it” he did not mean the importance of winning or even, exactly, of trying hard. What he meant was neatly captured on a sheet of paper he held in his hand, which he intended to photocopy and hand out to his players, as the keynote of one of his sermons. The paper contained a quote from Lou Piniella, the legendary baseball manager: HE WILL NEVER BE A TOUGH COMPETITOR. HE DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO BE COMFORTABLE WITH BEING UNCOMFORTABLE. “It” was the importance of battling one’s way through all the easy excuses life offered for giving up.” I look for truth wherever I can find it. What is true and good is not confined to Christian sources; it can break out anywhere. I love this quote from Piniella. It’s true, not just in athletics, but in life; it’s basic to a healthy spirituality. I’m not talking about the “tough competitor”

Imagine a tight-knit community where people share joys, sufferings, concerns, and gossip. An outsider to this community listening in on their conversations and observing their life together would pick up rather quickly on their references and allusions to “Uncle George,” who seems to bind the community together. Uncle George appears to be lurking behind all their interactions. A beautiful sunset prompts one community member to exclaim, “Isn’t Uncle George awesome?” Good news and celebrative events inspire feelings of gratitude toward Uncle George. Even in tragedy, the community turns toward Uncle George for help. At the beginning of each week the community assembles at the Community Center. There is animated conversation and fellowship as they discuss the past week’s events and upcoming plans. When a bell sounds, the conversation ceases. Everyone descends down a stairway into the basement where a giant man in dark clothes stands with his back turned toward them, facing an enormous