And then morning came... (Genesis 1:1-25)

I had a very hard time trying to decide how to resume this blog. Finally, I fell back on the old adage: the best place to begin is at the beginning. Genesis has long been one of my favorite books of the Bible. When I was a kid, it was because of some of the cool stories (talking snakes, a boat full of animals, come on!) As I went through seminary, it became more important to me because it realized how so many of the grand theological themes of the Bible are laid out in Genesis. I think it's fair to say Genesis serves as a foundational text for Christians. This is not to say that it is more important than the Gospels. Rather, the Gospel story of the Christ is the crowning achievement of what Genesis inaugurates. Genesis cannot supplant the Gospel, but it can certainly support and enrich it. All that being said, when I re-read through the first twenty-five verses, what struck me was blatantly un-exigetical. This post is a devotional thought. Nothing more, nothing less. If one were so inclined, it probably wouldn't be too difficult to find fault with the reasoning. Nonetheless, it seems to ring true to larger narrative of Scripture and of our lives. We'll see what you think. It occurs to me that each time God created something, he saw that it was "good." The text tells us as much (1:4, 10, 12, 18, 21, 25) What it doesn't tell us, however, was what I can only assume was implied..."this was good...but God had something better coming." It occurs to me that this is a lesson that's been lost on me many times in life. I reach a point of comfort--be it in a relationship, a job, a city I'm living in, or what have you--and things seem "good." I am quite upset, then, when something happens to disrupt this goodness. When the friendship sours, or the job ends other than I would have wished, or I have to move away. It is at these times that I experience another truth of Genesis. You will notice that after each one of these creative acts proclaimed "good," there was an evening. Perhaps this detail doesn't have much impact on we who live in the age of "cities that never sleep" of electric light...of 24 hour Wal-Mart service...but I wonder what the night time must have represented to the first hearers of the Genesis story. Wasn't night the time of danger? The time when thieves broke in to steal? The time when the wild beasts came nearest to menace family and flock? Yet just as the text tells us that the evening came, it was just as surely followed by another morning. And not only that--it was followed by another morning, with another good thing. This, the story that morning will always come for the Children of God, seems to me to be a fundamental message of Scripture. It's not a simple one to be sure. This is not of the same ilk as modern day "prophets" who would tell us that suffering is in our head, or that the cancer failed to go away for lack of our faith, or some other such rot gut. The God of Genesis does not deny the reality of the evening. He simply refuses to be bound by it. He will not allow it have the final word. Of course, this is the same theological story as we meet on another evening many years later...in a garden called Gethsemane. The evening fell...and with it, the "good" that had seemed so promising was lost. Not only for one day...but for three. Yet in the end, God demonstrated in His most spectacular fashion ever that even if morning tarries, in the end it will always come for those who fear God.

Luke 4-5 and the Wilderness

A few weeks ago, Stephanie and I had the chance to visit the church where we met 10 years ago--the Woodmont Hills Family of God. While there, I had the chance to visit with an old friend, Terry Smith, who asked about how I was dealing with some lingering issues from my ministerial past. I told him I was not "over it," but I was "better." I also mentioned that being at work, in graduate school, and with a family...I didn't find myself with a tremendous amount of time for introspection. He admonition to me was, "You need to make the time; Because it is in the quiet moments away from the distractions that God meets us."

This encounter had been percolating in my mind when I came to prepare a lesson on Luke chapters 4-5. Perhaps I only saw what I needed to see, but for the first time the recurring theme of "the wilderness" stood out to me. A number of questions present themselves, like "What makes for a wilderness?" In the context of Luke 4, Jesus' temptation takes place in a place of physical isolation and probably some level of danger. Furthermore, the wilderness is not only external but internal as well. Jesus has fasted forty days and is "very hungry." In other words, he is in a weakened physical state. Perhaps most shockingly, we find that the decision to subject Himself to such treatment was not merely a personal fancy, but that in fact Jesus has been "led by the Spirit into the wilderness."(4:1)

After triumphing over his temptation, Luke tells us that Jesus emerges from this time of trial "filled with the Holy Spirit's power" (4:14) and immediately sets about His public ministry. It strikes me as significant that Jesus DID NOT enter upon his Messianic mission immediately following His baptism and the confirming sign of the Holy Spirit's descent.(3:22) It seems as if there is some necessary connection between the experience of suffering and deprivation, and Jesus' ability to emerge with the power (personal, moral, ethical, et al.) to fulfill His God-given mission.

Theology Matters 3

Theology Matters 2

Reflection Questions

1. The video talks about some of the differences between the view of the world espoused by classical Newtonian physics (e.g., mechanistic, perfect, timeless, unchanging, etc.) and the worldview necessitated by thermodynamics (e.g., changing, decaying, dying, etc.) How do you think these different understandings of physics have affected the the incidence of faith or belief? Does one view seem to "fit" better with the idea of God (or with the idea of no god) than the other?

A new generation of mathematicians and philosophers were convinced if only they could solve the problems and paradoxes that had defeated Cantor, maths could be made perfect again. The most prominent among them, Hilbert, declared: "the definitive clarification of the nature of the infinite has become necessary for the honor of human understanding itself." They were so concerned to find some kind of certainty. They had come to believe that the only kind of understanding that was really worth anything was the logical and the provable.

2. What do you think of Hilbert's declaration?

3. What's so bad about believing that the only kind of understanding worth anything is the logical and the provable?

Cantor had dislodged the pebble which would, one day, start a landslide. For him, it had all been held together the—paradoxes resolved—in God. But what holds our ideas together when God is dead? Without God, the pebble is dislodged and the avalanche is unleashed; And World War I had killed God.

4. Is it necessary for our ideas to hold together?

5. The claim that "World War I...killed God" is certainly not new. I'd like to know what you think of that claim. What do you think it means? Is it valid or not?

Theology Matters 1

What you’re about to read is a pilot program. It’s an attempt to address a fundamental danger facing the Church in America. Below is an excerpt from the proposal letter I sent to our elders—in case you’d like to understand a little better why we’re doing these lessons. The first three clips of the documentary Dangerous Knowledge follow. Later this week, I will post some thought questions to guide your reflection before next Sunday. As always, if you have any suggestions for improving the class, please don’t hesitate to share.

One of the greatest needs in churches today is for Christians to receive thorough grounding in a Christian worldview. This is a bit of a new challenge for American churches. For most of our history, we have existed in a society that tacitly (if not overtly) accepted and reinforced basic presuppositions about the world and life that can properly be considered “Christian” (e.g., that the Bible is an authoritative text and ought to be treated so; that there is, in fact, such a being as “God” etc.) Such cultural presuppositions enabled earlier generations to focus sermons, Bible classes, and personal work largely (if not exclusively) on things like the proper mode of baptism, organization of the church, etc. However, such questions are ONLY relevant if the person one is speaking to has already accepted a “Christian worldview”.

It seems that the shared worldview of earlier generations is, if not gone already, eroding very quickly. No longer is it enough to answer the question “What does the Bible say?” for there are many people who simply do not accept that the Bible is a unique book. It is not enough to ask someone what they think God would have them do, for there is no common consent that such a being even exists.

This is an issue that I am deeply concerned about. It is not the sort of challenge that can be effectively dealt with in one or two sessions...nor even in a sermon series. The reason for this is because worldviews are constructed over a long period of time and are the result of a great variety of factors/inputs. Very often, the groundwork for the dissolution of faith is laid without people being aware of its presence. Consequently, I propose that the church would benefit from an ongoing class dealing with larger issues than the exegesis of a particular text. I envision this as a class that would cut across and integrate a variety of disciplines (e.g., theology, physics, logic, biology, history, hermeneutics, etc.)

Reflection Questions

If all that Cantor had seen was mathematics, then his story would be of limited interest; But from the beginning, Cantor realized his work had far wider significance…Cantor’s god was the Creator God…the god who set the planets spinning in their orbits. Whose mysteries were the eternal and perfect laws of motion.

Had Cantor been teaching in a theology department, his work would have been classified as “natural theology.”

1. What does this term mean? What do you think is the proper relationship (if any) between natural theology and special revelation?
2. Are there limitations to “Cantor’s god”?

What was inspiring for Cantor, frightened his critics. They saw mathematics as the pursuit of clarity and certainty. Everything Cantor was doing…seemed to them to be eating away at certainty. He soon faced a deep and implacable hostility.

3. What does Cantor teach us about the consequences of pursuing truth? Is it “worth it” to investigate?
4. What is “faith” and is it essential for human life? Why or why not?