America, Christianity’s Nutritional Value

Here are a few thoughts, before I go outside to enjoy this beautiful day:

1. I watched America last night. You know, there are some settings in which I actually like Rosie O’Donnell. I couldn’t stand her on the View or her own show, particularly the one in which she was grilling Tom Selleck for being a member of the NRA (heaven forbid!). That just screamed “self-righteous liberal”! But, on the movie last night, she was caring, humble, serious yet hip, patient in the midst of rejection, eager to listen. People called her “Dr. B.” She reminded me of a lesbian teacher I once had, who helped me overcome a learning disability when I was a child. And Rosie cares about the issue of foster care, since she has adopted a number of kids.

Rubie Dee was also on it. I mentioned her in my post, Queen vs. Roots: The Next Generation, but I wasn’t entirely sure who she was. Actually, she’s Mother Abigail in the Stand, a 1990′s miniseries based on Stephen King’s novel. “Folks around these parts call me Mother Abigail…” To be honest, I can’t recall ever seeing her play a young person. In all of the movies in which I’ve seen her, she plays an old lady: Queen in Roots: The Next Generation (which was in 1977!), Mother Abigail, Miss Harvey in America. She did a good job in her role last night, playing the sweet old lady who raised America.

I taped over the movie this morning, since I probably won’t watch it again. It was good, but there are good movies, and there are keepers. America reminded me too much of Antwone Fisher!

2. I was thinking of something my Aunt C. wrote under my post, Goodness: “Helping innocent children find hope (in Christ) in spite of their situations is something the government can’t do. Relying on the government to fix the problem is like eating potato chips. Might fill you up, but no nutritional value.”

Although Barack Obama and Aunt C. would probably disagree on a number of issues, he can see the same point. He states in Audacity of Hope: “…I also believe that when a gangbanger shoots indiscriminately into a crowd because he feels somebody disrespected him, we have a problem of morality. Not only do we need to punish that man for his crime, but we need to acknowledge that there’s a hole in his heart, one that government programs alone may not be able to repair” (215).

This morning at church, the priest was talking about Lent, saying that we give up certain things so we can learn to hunger after God. I wonder what exactly there is about God that I should hunger after? What about Christianity can fill me up and give me nutritional value?

Is it the belief that God is powerful? I don’t want to offend my Muslim reader, but that doesn’t always fill me up. The message that recurs over and over in my reading of the Koran is, “Do good, or the all mighty God will judge you harshly and throw you into hell” (my paraphrase). There are times when the Koran inspires me, as when it describes God’s power and glory in creating the heavens and the earth. But that doesn’t really fill me up at a deep, personal level.

Is it God’s love, or the hope of an afterlife, or the belief that things in this life will turn out all right, or the sense of purpose that accompanies Christianity, or the actual activity of doing good to others? What is it about God or Christianity that can nourish us?

A while back, I read a book called Society without God: What the Least Religious Nations Can Tell Us About Contentment, by Phil Zuckerman. Zuckerman’s thesis was that people can be happy without religion, since there’s plenty of contentment in the secularist nations of Sweden and Denmark. The secularists there are not necessarily hostile to religion: they just don’t think about it all that often! They cope Stoically in the face of death and other adversities, and they are happy because of their friends and a political structure that guarantees them financial security.

Zuckerman’s book is valuable because it shows that nations without a firm religious belief are not necessarily moral cesspools, and that not everyone on the face of the earth asks religious questions about God, the meaning of life, and their place in the universe. Many are just content to plug through their day-to-day lives, thank you very much!

But I wonder something: Is the picture that Zuckerman presents an ideal that we should desire? Isn’t it shallow not to care about God and life’s meaning–to search for something deeper in life? Sweden and Denmark are probably not totally like the society in Brave New World, in which people go on their happy way, enjoying pleasures and medicating their pain with soma. But that’s the picture that enters my mind when I think about Zuckerman’s thesis, notwithstanding my realization that everyone encounters problems in life, even those in Sweden and Denmark.

I think about something I heard Lee Strobel say on the Bible Answer Man a couple of years ago, as he discussed a book that he and his wife wrote about their marriage. Basically, Lee’s wife became a Christian before Lee did. Lee remarked that their lives and their marriages were not bad before their conversion, but they were incomplete. He compared the situation to the difference between black-and-white and color television. In his eyes, there’s something richer that religion can add to one’s life. I wonder what it is.

Any thoughts and musings?

Rob Bell on Rain

Things on Bryan’s Mind has a link to a Rob Bell video called “Rain” (see It Always Rains Doesn’t It). Rob Bell is a controversial pastor because he allegedly contradicts himself on the Trinity and the virgin birth. I don’t know to what extent this is true, for I haven’t read his book, Velvet Elvis. But I usually want to read the books that are criticized within fundamentalist and evangelical circles. It’s just a tendency that I have. Maybe I got sick of evangelicals telling me “Don’t read this” or “Don’t take that class” when I was in college. I like to read a different take on things, for a change.

On the video, Rob Bell is walking through the woods with his baby son on his back. It starts to rain and storm, and the baby cries. Rob Bell then tells his son, “Hey, Buddy, we’re going to make it.” Rob Bell uses this incident to illuminate his own relationship with God. First of all, Rob Bell says it is all right to feel bad and cry out to God. Although a lot of Christians assume that we should always be happy, there are plenty of Scriptures about God reaching out to the broken-hearted and the burdened. Second, Rob Bell posits a hypothetical situation: If his son were to get therapy years down the road because of this incident, he (Rob Bell) would feel hurt, for that incident was a special time for him. He got to draw closer to his son, as he loved and comforted him. For Rob Bell, our painful experiences are times for us to draw strength from God.

Someone said that Rob Bell was picking his teeth, but I didn’t see that. I listened to the video while I was doing other things on the Internet. I have a hard time focusing on only one thing.

I don’t understand what would be controversial about this video. When I watched it (or, rather, listened to it), I felt as if I was at an Intervarsity meeting in which the speaker was emphasizing God’s love. I usually felt blessed at those meetings, in the same way that I liked the Rob Bell video.

But, at the same time, I had the same problem with the Rob Bell video that I had at Intervarsity meetings. Allow me to explain. When I was at Harvard, I attended an Intervarsity conference on Christian community. I took my Bible with me to do my daily quiet time early in the morning. Well, I was going through Deuteronomy at the time, and the book emphasized obedience: Do this, and God will bless you. Disobey, and God will curse you.

Later that day, the speaker was talking about God’s unconditional love. She compared God to her dog, who is always happy to see her. I usually felt rather upbeat after hearing those sorts of messages, but I had a hard time processing her words after my Deuteronomy quiet time. “God’s love is unconditional?” I thought. “Then why does it appear so conditional in Deuteronomy, not to mention other parts of the Bible? And does God really love me like my Teddy and Penny dogs?”

My impression is that a lot of the Intervarsity types have not rigorously engaged this question. I could be wrong on this, since a big meeting may not be the place to wrestle with such a theological problem. But God’s love is often just assumed in Intervarsity settings.

That brings me to another issue, and I apologize if I appear to be rambling. I was talking with a lady a few nights ago, and she was discussing the deep faith of someone she knows. “She doesn’t have an evangelical conception of God,” she said, “for she sees God as a loving healer.” That’s when I realized something: I really give evangelicals a bad rap on this blog. I must have given her the impression that the God of evangelicalism is harsh and unloving. Of course, my friend was probably basing her view also on the evangelicals she knows, who can come across as narrow-minded and judgmental. “Be this way, or you’ll go to hell!” is the message that my friend got from evangelicalism.

She’s partially right, but not entirely, for there are all types of evangelicals. There are many I’ve encountered who seem to accept their beliefs uncritically. I’m not sure if they’ve deeply reflected on, say, the love of God. They just assume it, and they go through life with their blissful attitude. Then there are fundamentalists and evangelicals who actually do treat God as conditionally loving. For them, God sticks with you only if you’re behaving yourself. And then there are the ones who actually wrestle with their faith and offer a lot of nuggets as a result. Philip Yancey is an example of that kind of evangelical.

But I react against all kinds of evangelicals, even as I embrace all kinds. I’m actually kind of jealous of those who uncritically accept their faith in God’s love. Their faith brings them genuine happiness, and they often reach out to others. I wish I could make my faith do that! For me, making my faith impact my attitude and life is a herculean effort.

To their credit, the ones who see God as conditionally loving at least take seriously the parts of Scripture about holiness and righteous living. But they either lack peace or are extremely self-righteous. I’d have a hard time having peace if I believed that God based his love for me on my behavior. I’m far from perfect, and I mean 24 hours a day. But some Christians may seek this peace by assuring themselves that they are truly righteous. After all, if you hold fast to a message that says, “You know you are truly saved by your good works and righteous living,” then you may want to convince yourself of your righteousness to find any assurance at all.

And those who wrestle have their good and bad points. Sometimes, they offer jewels of wisdom. Sometimes, they offer the typical Christian apologetic spiel, as if it is fresh thinking. And then, sometimes, they reject out of hand the typical Christian spiel, only to offer a spiel of their own that doesn’t really satisfy me. They fail to realize that even the typical spiel contains some wisdom. If you are annoyed with me right now as you read this paragraph, then you probably know how I feel about some evangelical intellectuals. So I guess I’m annoyed with people like me, even as I like them!

But back to Rob Bell. I like the idea of walking with God through painful experiences. I may have problems with him allowing those experiences in the first place, but they do give me an opportunity to draw closer to him. After all, this life is a vapor anyway, along with all that happens in it. What’s important eternally is my relationship with God and my character. If pain can place me in a position where I cry out to God and sympathize with others, then it’s worth having. I can only speak about my own pain here, however, and I am reluctant to tell others to do the same thing, since their experiences may be worse than mine. But I will say this: In his book Prayer: Does It Make a Difference?, Philip Yancey talks about a Jew in a Nazi concentration camp who was enjoying his journey with God, in spite of all the hell around him. Going through hell with a friend can give one joy.

I once did that, but something happened along the way that stole my joy. When I first went to Harvard, I had a hard time clicking with people, and so I tended to withdraw. I had a lot of social anxiety, and I didn’t know what to say in social situations. I also felt intellectually inadequate. Therefore, I avoided certain people and spent most of my time in the library.

But, strangely enough, I could feel happiness in the midst of my solitude and isolation. I continually sang praise and worship songs to myself. I prayed and read my Bible on a regular basis. On occasion, I helped other people.

There I was in my bliss, and a fundamentalist friend of mine ruined it for me. He told me that God wants me to have a social life, and that I should imitate Jesus by reaching out to others. Well, I tried it, and I just got nervous. It wasn’t ME. And so I withdrew. I felt somewhat comfortable in my withdrawal, but I also thought that I was disobeying God. Consequently, I was reluctant to sing praise and worship songs throughout the day. After all, wasn’t I deluding myself by singing praise songs? Should I sing praises to God, when I was disobeying his will? Isn’t that inconsistent and hypocritical? I still prayed, since I believed that I needed some connection with God to become a better person. But I had lost a complete sense that God is my friend along my rough journey.

Of course, there are evangelicals who will then say, “Come on! God loves you! He doesn’t reject you because you’re an introvert. He made you that way!” Perhaps, but what about people who have homosexual inclinations (which does not include me, but I’m trying to make a point here)? They have a certain preference–they like the same sex, not the opposite sex. Did God make them that way? Should we expect them to change something that they cannot help? If so, does that mean that I should become an extrovert? After all, I’ve heard some evangelicals say that introversion is selfishness, while extroversion is love, and, of course, we are supposed to be loving.

I hope you got something out of this post, even if it’s a tad bit long. Please feel free to offer any insights that you may have. I may not agree with every thought that I read, but I do consider it worth reading. Have a nice day!

Joel 3: Where Is the Justice?

In M. Night Shyamalan’s Lady in the Water, Cleveland Heap wonders why this dog-like creature called a “scrunt” is getting away with murder. The scrunt is trying to prevent the sea-nymph Story from returning to her own world. He’s a renegade scrunt because he is not legally allowed to do so, and, ordinarily, these three bloodthirsty monkeys called the “Tartutic” maintain justice through sheer intimidation. Unfortunately, they are not enforcing the law at that time. So Cleveland Heap, the protagonist of the story, asks in a dramatic yet humble manner, “Where is the justice?”

Many people ask this about far worse situations (not that renegade scrunts aren’t a problem, at least in the movie). And it is obviously an ancient question, for it appears throughout the Bible. Biblical authors and characters often wonder why God does not punish evildoers but allows them to continue their destructive activity. The Psalmist tends to respond, “Just be patient. God will punish them soon.” The Book of Job appears to leave the question totally unanswered, as God elaborately tells Job about his human limitations. And the prophets project justice onto an eschatological event, in which God will dramatically intervene in history, restore Israel as a nation, destroy her enemies, and set up a new kingdom of righteousness, peace, and prosperity.

Joel 3 opts for the last approach: it projects justice onto an eschatological event. According to the chapter, after God restores Israel, he will judge Tyre and Zidon for selling Israelites into slavery, an act that removed them (the Israelites) quite a distance from their homes. God will punish Tyre and Zidon by turning them over to the Judeans, who in turn will sell them to the Sabeans, a far off people. God then goads Israel’s enemies into a battle, presumably so he can destroy them. “Beat your plowshares into swords, and your pruninghooks into spears,” God proclaims to the Gentiles. In the end, God destroys Israel’s notorious nemeses, Egypt and Edom.

Why do I fail to completely identify with this chapter, or a lot of the Bible, for that matter? I think the reason is that I have no enemies who are deliberately out to destroy me. “Well, wait till you’ve lived long enough,” I can hear people telling me. Fair enough. But, up to this point in my life, I can’t think of anyone who has actually tried to ruin my life.

Don’t get me wrong. I have been hurt in the past. But, most of the time, my hurts are a result of my frustration at not being socially accepted. Indeed, there are many times when I say to God, “Look, I try my best to be nice, and these jerks do not accept me.” And maybe there is a part of me that wants God to punish them. But, in the end, I do not wish that they were dead. I just wish that they accepted me. And, while I may be angry at them, I do not put them in the same category as a rich noble who’s seeking to exploit society’s most vulnerable (the type of person the Bible condemns). My “enemies” can’t help whom they like or dislike, anymore than I can. So a part of me would like for them to be hurt, and a part of me would not.

But there are many people in the world who desperately thirst for justice, who seek some indication that an authority cares enough about their pain to punish the people who caused it. And that is the feeling that Joel 3 addresses. “Those foreigners sold us into slavery!” I can picture the Israelites saying. “Does anyone care? I want them to feel just as bad as I did when I was taken from my home.”

Most of the Bible has this “What goes around comes around” sort of theme, but one of the prophets adds mercy into the equation. First Isaiah discusses God’s wrath against the nations, but it also contains a beautiful passage, Isaiah 19:22-25:

“The LORD will strike Egypt, striking and healing; they will return to the LORD, and he will listen to their supplications and heal them. On that day there will be a highway from Egypt to Assyria, and the Assyrian will come into Egypt, and the Egyptian into Assyria, and the Egyptians will worship with the Assyrians. On that day Israel will be the third with Egypt and Assyria, a blessing in the midst of the earth, whom the LORD of hosts has blessed, saying, ‘Blessed be Egypt my people, and Assyria the work of my hands, and Israel my heritage’” (NRSV).

Imagine that! There is Egypt, the nation that placed Israel into captivity and ditched her when she needed military assistance. There is Assyria, the notoriously bloodthirsty power that defeated Northern Israel and decimated much of Judah. Joel presents the destruction of Egypt and other enemies to Israel, but Isaiah offers a different picture. For Isaiah, Egypt and Assyria get their punishment, sure, but then they come together with Israel to worship the true God. And God essentially says, “Welcome home,” even as he affirms their value in his sight.

Isaiah must have had a lot of strength to write this vision. Jonah certainly couldn’t stomach the possibility that God might have mercy on the savage Assyrians, so he fled from his mission. “The world would be better off without them!” he probably thought. But Isaiah dared to value Israel’s enemies as people, even though he too saw the pain that they had inflicted.

I saw a good episode of Touched by an Angel recently. For a second, I thought I was watching a Dallas/Knots Landing reunion, since it had Joan Van Ark and the lady who played Rebecca Wentworth, the mom of Pam Ewing and Cliff Barnes. But, anyway, there was a scene in which a son was talking to his dying father. The father had continually stuck with his wife despite her bossiness and infidelity, and he chose to love her and the daughter she had through an affair. The son told his dad that he always saw this as a sign of weakness. And that attitude was playing itself out in the son’s own life, for he was about to leave his spouse. Then, the son realized (at the coaxing of Andrew, the angel of death) that his father was actually the strong one, since he chose to love in spite of his hurt.

On a certain level, I can sympathize with both voices of the biblical tradition: justice and mercy. And I say this with the disclaimer that I’ve never experienced the level of pain that Israel endured at the hands of her oppressors. People who are wronged want some acknowledgment of their pain, and they don’t want the victimizer to get off scott free. And Isaiah recognized the value of justice, since he could be as graphic about God’s wrath as the rest of the prophets. But Isaiah also dared to ask, “Wouldn’t it be nice if we were all friends?” That’s like what I was saying above about my own attitude: I don’t necessarily want my enemies to suffer. I just wish that they accepted and respected me.

But things don’t always work that way in the real world. In the same way that the prophets project justice onto an eschatological era, Isaiah projects reconciliation. But, hopefully, Isaiah’s vision can inspire us to value people the way that God does, even as Joel reminds us of the importance of justice.

Seeing the Bright Side, and Then Not

Yesterday, I talked about some of my problems with Christianity in light of my Asperger’s Syndrome. Today, I want to discuss Christianity’s assets. I may contradict some of what I said yesterday, but, hopefully, my readers have come to expect a lack of stability in my posts.

One aspect of Christianity that attracts me is grace: the notion that God took the first step to initiate a loving relationship with me, even though I’m undeserving. In most social situations, I feel as if I have to earn people’s love. If I am intelligent, witty, articulate, charming, attractive, talented, or have money, then people will like me. If I am lacking in those things (or cannot effectively convey to others that I have them), then they dislike me, dismiss me, or forget about me.

God, however, is different. God loved us while we were yet sinners (Romans 5:8). Whether I am rich or poor, handsome or ugly, talented or inept, charming or repulsive, God loves me and desires a relationship with me. And another comforting thought is this: Even those whose social skills are better than mine are not necessarily in a better position, as far as God is concerned. In God’s eyes, all are sinners in need of a Savior. We all have moral flaws and need to grow, so we shouldn’t look down on one another.

Another aspect of Christianity that somewhat appeals to me is the idea of regeneration. I say “somewhat” because I have mixed feelings. Christianity promises that God can change me, which resonates with me, since I have difficulty changing myself. In a sense, Christianity doesn’t advocate doing as much as being. God doesn’t just want us to avoid murder and adultery, but he wants us to be the types of people who do not hate and lust. He desires for us to be pure on the inside and the outside, not merely to avoid outward sins. This contradicts what I said yesterday, when I complained that Christianity (unlike Judaism) does not offer clear, doable tasks that I can understand and follow. Of course it doesn’t, since it is concerned with how we are, not just what we do. And God is the only one who can change how we are.

Another reason for my mixed feelings is that I don’t always see the fruits of regeneration in the lives of myself or other Christians. I’m not saying this from the standpoint of an atheist, who smugly condemns Christians while ignoring his own moral shortcomings and those of other atheists (e.g., Stalin, Mao). Nor am I contending that I am different from all those morally degenerate Christians, since I struggle to see the fruit of the Spirit in my own life, as well as the lives of others. I’m just saying that there are a lot of Christians out there who are jerks. Christians act as if believing the way they do brings moral superiority, but I really fail to see how they are better than anyone else. Not only do they practice the same sins, but they also do a lot of the same good deeds.

This gives me problems with a lot of Christian cliches that I’ve heard over the years. For example, Christians say that we should be nice to others to draw them to Christ. Once unbelievers see how nice we are, the argument runs, then they will want what we have and convert to Christianity. But Christians don’t have a monopoly on being nice. There are people of all religions, philosophies, and creeds who appear to be friendly, affable people. Why should my being nice draw someone else to my worldview, when that person will undoubtedly encounter nice people with other perspectives?

Conversely, I’ve heard Christians say that, if we sin, then that will compromise our witness, making non-believers question God’s ability to change people. But if God automatically changes people once they become Christians, then why do Christians sin? And why should I have to put on a false mask to convince others that God has changed me? If God has changed me, then I shouldn’t have to pretend to be something I’m not in order to attract people. I just feel that Christians want me to do false advertising for God. I’m not saying that God hasn’t changed people. I just don’t think that I should have to pretend that God has changed me or made me perfect. He hasn’t, or at least not as much as I’d like.

So I set out to write about Christianity’s assets, and I ended up complaining about its deficiencies (from my perspective). Sometimes, as I struggle with my life and faith, I just wonder if I can find any place to rest.

Where Do I Stand?

One of my problems as I struggle with Asperger’s Syndrome is this: I don’t know where I stand with people. Many with Asperger’s like neat categories, and they want clear goals that they can reasonably attain. For example, in school, I get an assignment, I do it, and I receive a grade on it. Sounds easy, as long as the professor gives me clear guidelines that I can follow. With social situations, however, things are not so simple. My goal in a social situation is to be liked, but I don’t know how to arrive at that goal. People tell me that I can get others to like me by smiling, saying “hi” to them, and asking them how they’re doing, but I don’t find that to be a magic formula. Sure, I’ll turn people off by doing the opposite, but pretending to be upbeat doesn’t magically cause friendships to form around me.

And, then, even if I get someone to like me in one social situation, that doesn’t necessarily mean that the person will like me in another one. So I never really feel secure, at least not with most people. For me, social situations are not something mechanical, in which I can do certain things and automatically achieve the desired results. Often, I feel that I try hard and obtain no fruit of my labor. Social situations are so ambiguous, and I want neat categories.

The same goes with religion. I really don’t know where I stand with God. According to Christianity, people are saved by faith, yet they demonstrate that they truly have faith through their good works. Even Paul, the champion of justification by grace through faith, affirmed that those who follow the works of the flesh will not enter the kingdom of God. Paul promoted the fruit of the Spirit. But that doesn’t help me much, since I do the works of the flesh. When a person has something that I wish I had but cannot get, I become jealous. When someone rejects me, I hate that person. I’m only human. Christians can then say, “Well, you’ve got to repent,” but how, pray tell, do I do that? I can’t turn off my emotions like they’re a light switch. So Christianity doesn’t give me much assurance, specifically the versions that treat good works as a proof of salvation. Sure, I do some good things, but I also have a lot of bad feelings and emotions. How good do I have to be before I can finally pat myself on the back and say, “Okay, you’re officially saved”?

Judaism has some better components (from a certain point of view), but it isn’t perfect. What I like about Judaism is that you can get points by doing clear, specific mitzvot. It’s kind of like the homework assignment I mentioned above: I’m given a clear goal, and I know how to attain it. Christianity, however, says that we have to do everything with the right motivation for it to count before God, and I don’t know how to control my motivations. Judaism’s commandments at least seem doable. I talked with a professor at Hebrew Union College about idolatry, and he said that one observes the commandment against idols by not bowing down to an image: clear, simple, and doable. But Christianity considers idolatry to be putting anything ahead of God. When I hear the Christian version of the commandment, I don’t know what to do. Do I have to do religious activities 24 hours a day? How do I know that I’m not putting other things ahead of God?

What I dislike about Judaism is that it seems to say that one enters eternal bliss by doing more good deeds than bad deeds. That’s one version of Judaism, and I know that E.P. Sanders presents a more complex picture. But I don’t know if my good deeds outweigh my bad ones. I don’t do an automatic calculation in my mind, plus there may be deeds that I miss.

What I try to do in my day to day life is remember that God loves me. God commands me to love others, and I assume that he doesn’t want me to do something that he’s unwilling to do himself.

What Is the "Rest" of Hebrews 3-4?

When I was living in Massachusetts, the pastor of my church was doing a series entitled “Crossing the Jordan.” He said that a lot of hymns and spirituals treat the Promised Land as a symbol for heaven. For him, that cannot be the case, for the Israelites did not experience bliss after they crossed the Jordan. Rather, they encountered enemies and battles. For my pastor, the Promised Land is a symbol for Christian sanctification, which includes the struggle against sin.

Incidentally, in my weekly quiet time on the Book of Joshua, I found that Chuck Missler said the same thing. I’m not sure if I agree with my pastor and Chuck Missler on this point. My reason is that the Promised Land is often presented as a place of rest, happiness, and prosperity. Sure, the Israelites had to fight to possess it, but they eventually had rest from all of their enemies (Joshua 21:44). So I can easily see the Promised Land as a symbol for the bliss of heaven, or (for Armstrongites who don’t believe people go to heaven) wherever the saints will receive their future reward.

When I read Hebrews 3-4, however, I get more confused. What is the “rest” of Hebrews 3-4? Is it heaven, or is it a spiritual state that the saints can possess in this life? I can see the author of Hebrews 3-4 meaning something like the following: “You must keep having faith, or you will miss out on your heavenly reward, as the Israelites under Moses missed out on the Promised Land through their unbelief.” After all, Hebrews 11 emphasizes the Old Testament saints’ desire for a heavenly country (see vv 14-16), so heaven is in the author’s thoughts.

At the same time, there are verses that seem to present the rest as a current spiritual reality. For example, Hebrews 4:10-11 says, “For he that is entered into his rest, he also hath ceased from his own works, as God did from his. Let us labour therefore to enter into that rest, lest any man fall after the same example of unbelief.” So the rest seems to be a present state of cessation from work. Christians have used other New Testament writings in their attempts to elucidate what this means. They refer to Jesus’ promise of inner rest for all who come to him (Matthew 11:28-30), or they cite the Pauline doctrine that people become righteous by faith, apart from works (Romans 4:5; Ephesians 2:8-6).

But I have problems with this approach. For one, I wonder if we should use Matthew and Paul to understand Hebrews. As much as possible, I think that we should allow Hebrews to speak with its own voice. Second, Hebrews 4:11 exhorts Christians to labor for their rest. The rest that Jesus and Paul discuss, by contrast, appears to be a free gift that Christians already possess.

I guess the way that I reconcile all of this is to say that rest takes work. The author of Hebrews is writing to Christians, and yet he still sees a need to exhort and encourage them. Hebrews 10:22 says, “Let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience, and our bodies washed with pure water.” The author of Hebrews wants his audience to set their minds at rest by focusing on their Heavenly Father and their faithful High Priest, Jesus Christ (Hebrews 5-7; 12:2, 5-8). This takes work, especially when they’re enduring persecution and the temptation to abandon their faith (Hebrews 12:2).

And maybe the hope of a heavenly reward plays a role in their current spiritual rest, since that gives them something to anticipate. The author of Hebrews may use “rest” to mean both heaven and the present spiritual peace of the saints. He wants his audience to maintain their faith as they endure this life, but he also wants them to receive their ultimate reward.

Does God Hear Non-Believers?

In the Left Behind series, Chloe Steele is on a plane, and she prays that God might send her a friend at that moment to help her in her loneliness. She doesn’t know if God will acknowledge her prayer because she is not yet a believer. But God does. Her friend and future husband, Buck Williams, shows up and sits right next to her.

Does God actually hear the prayers of unbelievers? Does he speak to them in any way? Does God even have anything to do with non-Christians?

I’ve heard different answers from evangelicals. Some talk as if God has nothing to do with non-Christians. This one woman on a Focus on the Family radio program for teens said that God does not acknowledge the prayers of unbelievers, except when they request salvation (the sinner’s prayer). Her reason is that non-Christians are alienated from God because of his wrath against sin, so God does not show them favor. For her, God is pure and holy, meaning that he cannot even look upon sin, so people need to be covered with the blood of Christ for God to be involved in their lives.

On the other hand, I’ve heard testimonies from people who act as if God has always been there for them, even before their conversion. “I was rebellious and wanted nothing to do with God,” they say, “But God didn’t give up on me.”

As is often the case, both sides can find prooftexts for their positions. For the “God-does-not-hear-unbelievers” side, Psalm 66:18 says, “If I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear me.” Isaiah 1:15 says, “And when ye spread forth your hands, I will hide mine eyes from you: yea, when ye make many prayers, I will not hear: your hands are full of blood.” Proverbs 28:9 has, “He that turneth away his ear from hearing the law, even his prayer shall be abomination.” And, in Leviticus, we find that everything associated with the worship of God had to be without blemish. For many evangelicals, this is because God is holy and will only accept perfection, which is why we need Christ’s perfect righteousness to cover us when we stand before God.

At the same time, there are passages in which God blesses sinners. In II Kings 14, God blesses Jeroboam II, the wicked king of Northern Israel, in his military goals. Jesus says that God is kind to the unthankful and the evil (Luke 6:35). According to Acts 14:16-17, even when nations walked their own way, God bore witness to himself, “in that he did good, and gave us rain from heaven, and fruitful seasons, filling our hearts with food and gladness.”

I think that God wants to communicate who he is to to everyone in the world. He wants all people to know about his love, his power, his justice, and his divinity so that they will accept him as God. His kindness to unbelievers has a goal, for Romans 2:4 rhetorically asks, “Or despisest thou the riches of his goodness and forbearance and longsuffering; not knowing that the goodness of God leadeth thee to repentance?” And, in my opinion, there may be times when God will answer the prayers of unbelievers to show them that he exists and is worthy of their worship. After all, was every request Jesus granted from a righteous person?

But what about the passages about God not hearing sinners? An important point to note is that God is actually talking to them. In Isaiah 1, for example, God warns the Israelites that he will not hear their prayers and then he explains why. So God is not avoiding sinners or choosing to have nothing to do with them; rather, he is still trying to communicate who he is and bring them to repentance. There is a dialogue between God and the sinners.

There are times when God may not acknowledge the prayers of the wicked. God doesn’t want to bail people out of their problems all the time, for he wants them to learn valuable lessons about their sinful behavior. And there are times when God wants to demonstrate explicitly his hatred of evil, so he withholds blessings from the evildoer. God knows people’s hearts and responds to them appropriately.

So I’m not sure if we can put God in a box or map out how God works. God works within the context of a relationship, so maybe he doesn’t act the same way all the time. But we can be assured that righteousness underlies every one of his actions.

How Can I Be Sure God Loves Me? Part II

This is Part II of “How Can I Be Sure God Loves Me?” I will examine another way that biblical authors and characters assured themselves of God’s love.

3. God loves me because I do good deeds.

I know that Protestants will cringe at this statement, both the evangelicals who think that the entire Bible is about justification by grace through faith alone, and the mainline Protestants who assume that God loves everybody the same amount. But you find something like it throughout the Bible. Consider Psalm 18:19-26:

“He brought me forth also into a large place; he delivered me, because he delighted in me. The LORD rewarded me according to my righteousness; according to the cleanness of my hands hath he recompensed me. For I have kept the ways of the LORD, and have not wickedly departed from my God. For all his judgments were before me, and I did not put away his statutes from me. I was also upright before him, and I kept myself from mine iniquity. Therefore hath the LORD recompensed me according to my righteousness, according to the cleanness of my hands in his eyesight. With the merciful thou wilt shew thyself merciful; with an upright man thou wilt shew thyself upright; with the pure thou wilt shew thyself pure; and with the froward thou wilt shew thyself froward.”

Can you imagine this author in an evangelical Bible study? “What do you mean you are upright and have clean hands?” I can picture the evangelicals saying. “You are a sinner! Any righteousness that you have is imputed. Any ‘good’ work that you do is tainted by sin. You do not deserve God’s deliverance. If God delivers you, he does so because he is good, not you. You’re sounding a little self-righteous there, to say the least!”

Or take Psalm 103:17-18: “But the mercy of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting upon them that fear him, and his righteousness unto children’s children; to such as keep his covenant, and to those that remember his commandments to do them.” Can you picture the reaction of mainline Protestants? “God is also good to those who do not keep his commandments, since God loves everybody the same amount!”

All sorts of people appeal to their own righteousness in the Bible. Job wondered why he was suffering. After all, didn’t he live a righteous life, and wasn’t God supposed to treat the upright well? Throughout Nehemiah 13, Nehemiah asks God to remember the good things he did in contrast to the evil deeds of his enemies. And Paul (or pseudo-Paul) talks about his clean conscience (Acts 24:16; II Timothy 1:3).

I would be simplistic to say that these authors or characters advocated salvation by works. The Psalmist often mentions God’s forgiveness and the need for God to cleanse his heart (Psalms 31-32, 51). The vast majority of the Hebrew Bible is a story about God patiently putting up with rebellious Israel, in the hope that she would repent and acknowledge him. And the Gospel of Jesus Christ affirms that Christ died for us when we were sinners, not righteous (Romans 5:8).

At the same time, we should not brush the “God loves me because I’m righteous” passages under the rug. I think they’re important because they assure us that God notices when we are trying to do good. Have you ever tried your utmost to do the right thing, but nobody seems to notice or care? Those who are compromising themselves morally seem to prosper, while you suffer despite (or even because of) your integrity. Well, the Bible assures you that God takes notice of your efforts and will reward you accordingly.

I also think that God has a special place in his heart for those who love him and keep his commandments. Sure, God loves everybody, but he is especially impressed when people make an effort to do his will. His love for everyone means that he wants all people to repent and avoid divine judgment, and he is willing to use warnings or kindness to bring them to that point (Romans 2:4).

But I don’t think we should ever assume that God is indebted to us. Jesus says in Luke 17:10: “So likewise ye, when ye shall have done all those things which are commanded you, say, We are unprofitable servants: we have done that which was our duty to do.” We’re supposed to obey God because he’s God, meaning that he owes us nothing when we do his will. But God does identify himself as someone who takes notice of our good behavior and rewards it accordingly, so we can have comfort that we are speaking to that kind of God when we’re trying to do right in a world that seems wrong. Yet, even in those situations, God rewards us because of his goodness, not ours.

How Can I Be Sure God Loves Me? Part I

This will be a two-parter, and I will write the second part on Sunday.

My impression is that a lot of people wouldn’t ask this question. “Of course God loves me!” they would say. But this is a question with which I have struggled. In this series, I will offer some biblical answers, my reservations, and how I deal with my doubts.

1. I know God loves me because Christ died for my sins.

This is a biblical answer. Paul says in Romans 5:8, “But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” I John 4:10 states, “Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins.” One approach to this issue would be to say, “The Bible affirms that God loves the world, and I am part of the world, therefore God must love me.” But Calvinists will point out that words like “all” and “world” in the Bible do not always refer to each and every individual. When Mark 1:5 says that all went to the Jordan to be baptized by John, for example, it probably doesn’t mean everybody, since there are other passages that mention Jews who were critical of John (e.g., Matthew 11:18).

Consequently, most Calvinists argue that Christ did not die for each and every individual but for the elect, whom God chose before the world’s foundation. So how can I be sure that God loves me? How can I know that I am part of the elect? Different authors have addressed the question of assurance. Some say that the Holy Spirit speaks to the Christian’s heart (Romans 8:15; Galatians 4:6). Others contend that the truly elect person will produce fruit of the Spirit, which includes love of God and others (I John 2:3-4; 3:14). I have problems with these criteria. I do not always feel assured of God’s love, and I’m not sure when the Holy Spirit is speaking to me and when the thoughts are just mine. Add to that the possibility of false assurance, which Calvinists like to posit. This only compounds the problem, since, even if I do feel assurance, how can I know that the assurance is legitimate? Also, if my assurance of God’s love depends on the quality of my lifestyle, then I can’t have assurance. There are good things that I do, but I also have bad thoughts, feelings, and actions (sins of omission and commission). So Calvinism doesn’t offer me much hope, even though some of its assurance tests are biblical.

2. I know God loves me because he created me.

Job appeals to this in Job 10:3, where he says to God, “Is it good unto thee that thou shouldest oppress, that thou shouldest despise the work of thine hands, and shine upon the counsel of the wicked?” When the Israelites appeal to God for mercy in Isaiah 64:8, they affirm, “But now, O LORD, thou art our father; we are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand.” The Psalmist prays to God, “The LORD will perfect that which concerneth me: thy mercy, O LORD, endureth for ever: forsake not the works of thine own hands” (Psalm 138:8). Psalm 145:9 seems to acknowledge God’s goodness to all of his creation, for it states, “The LORD is good to all: and his tender mercies are over all his works.” So there is a thread in the Bible that assumes God cares for what he has created, simply because he created it. Don’t most of us value the things we have made? This view in the Bible reminds me of a sign I’ve seen on more than one occasion: “I know I’m somebody, cause God don’t make no junk!”

But I have reservations about this, again because of Calvinism. Paul says in Romans 9:21-22 that God can create some vessels specifically for wrath and destruction. So does the fact that God created something mean that he must love, value, and care for it? Not necessarily, if Calvinists are reading this passage correctly.

The way that I deal with this issue is to look at Romans 9 in the context of Romans 9-11. Paul is talking about Israel and the Gentiles. In Romans 11, Paul says that most Jews have been hardened toward the Gospel so that more Gentiles can have the opportunity to believe. But Paul is optimistic that, at some point in time, all Israel will be saved. So we see that God’s hardening of the Jews, which is the topic of Paul’s discussion in Romans 9, serves the ultimate purpose of expanding the number of saved people, not contracting it. What, then, does Paul mean when he refers to the vessels of destruction? I think he is saying that God demonstrated his wrath against sin through his punishment of the nation of Israel, which occurred in 70 C.E. I may be wrong, but my impression is that Paul does not apply Romans 9:21-22 to every sinner or non-Christian, as if they are creations that God does not value. But, then again, God actually does value the actual referents of Romans 9:21-22, the nation of Israel, for God will save it some day in the future.

So how can I be sure that God loves me? Because he wants to expand the number of saved people, and I assume that he includes me in that program.