Celebrity or Friend?

26 03 2012

Do you know any celebrities? I mean, we all “know” a lot of celebrities… otherwise, they’re not really celebrities. Of course, many celebrities have a persona that has very little to do with their ordinary selves. Fans like us live in a world of abstract concepts about celebrities: their albums, their movies, their sporting accomplishments. While we’re sometimes attracted to their “personal” lives, these usually retain the abstract element of celebrity – the big mansion, the crazy romance (and subsequent divorce). Nobody would buy a trashy-magazine with a celebrity on the cover going to the toilet – not because it’s too disgusting, but because it’s too ordinary.

Take the shock-rocker Alice Cooper, for example: his persona is one of a violent psychopath – off stage, he’s a golf-addict. I remember hearing him talk about he and Iggy Pop lamenting their poor short-game. But it had never occurred to me that people like Alice Cooper and Iggy Pop did ordinary things. I just assumed they lived in a perpetual concert.

It’d be interesting – and kinda weird – to speak to one of the ordinary friends of ordinary Alice. It might be difficult for them to explain the ordinary things they do with Alice, day by day, since they are so far removed from our expectations. We might even scoff at their discussion of him going shopping at the supermarket, to which they might say, “Well, you don’t know him like I do”. They might not even like to talk about their friendship with Alice, since it’s part of his personal life.

I think God Himself sometimes suffers from a similar sense of celebrity. In a lot of ways, He’s the Celebrity – most people have heard of Him, in some form or another, even if they have no direct relationship with Him.

One strange thing about how Christians often seek to prove the reality of God, is that we try to prove the celebrity side of Him – His abstract “stats”, like that He created the world (“… in seven days! That’s still a world record!”). This is all a rather odd thing for us to do, because we’re supposed to know God personally, as a Friend, and not merely the Celebrity. We’re supposed to have His Spirit with us as a Friend – and that’s because of God coming as Jesus Christ, Who is called in the Bible “Immanuel”, “God with us”, in relationship with us. God chose in Christ not to stay an abstract, distant Celebrity, but to become our Friend.

No wonder atheists often don’t believe in Him! Many have never met Him, personally. I struggle to conceive Alice Cooper on a golf course. They struggle to conceive of God in relationship with people like them, and us. Alice Cooper’s friend isn’t going to convince me he plays golf by talking about his stage-show. So why do we Christians consistently talk about abstract things in God?

There are two answers to that. The nastiest one is to suggest that some “Christians” are living a sham, and gave up having a personal, experienced relationship with God long ago, if they ever did. All they have left is the abstract notions about God. But I suggest that other Christians are just victims of our prevailing secular culture, that has squeezed their personal life with God into their “personal life”, that privatised secret world, and they feel they’re not allowed to discuss it. I suggest that we Christians need to get back to talking about the God we meet every day. People can argue forever about the abstract nature of an abstract celebrity, but it’s much harder to argue against the intimate relationship we have with a friend.

To my atheist friends, I can tell you that I chat with God every day (sometimes, actually, on the loo), and many times I’ve felt Him chatting back. I wouldn’t be a Christian if it was just knowing about the Celebrity God – I want to know Him, personally, relationally. And seriously, He keeps going on and on, all the time, that He wants you to know Him too. For some of us, we’ll respond that such an appeal to the experiential is too personal, too subjective. We want to talk about rational proofs for the Celebrity. That’s fine, go ahead.

But for some of you, you’re tired of just hearing about the Celebrity. Well, I’ve got Someone I’d like you to meet…

Matt Gray

 





If God Does Not Exist

16 03 2012

I live in Spain, where one in every three people between 18 and 29 years old don’t believe in the existence of God. Many other countries share a similar statistic. You might be an atheist yourself or, if not, surely know someone who is. Possibly we all would agree that some questions serve as arguments against the existence of God for many, if not most, atheists. Some of these questions are: if God exists, why is there so much suffering in the world? If God exists, why doesn’t he speak to humanity more clearly or tangibly? If God exists, why hasn’t anyone been able to prove his existence? And so on.

These are undoubtedly questions that need to be addressed, but that is not my intention in this article. Actually what I want to do is ask more questions, but from another perspective. Let me invite you to briefly look at the other side of the coin and consider four questions in relation to the existence of God.

First, if God does not exist, how can we have any sense of justice in the world? I believe we all agree that trafficking human beings is wrong and providing food for those who are hungry, for instance, is right. But on which basis do we classify something as right or wrong? Who established these moral standards that we all know exist apart from our own opinions? As C. S. Lewis expressed: “My argument against God was that the universe seemed so cruel and unjust. But how had I got this idea of just and unjust? A man does not call a line crooked unless he has some idea of a straight line. What was I comparing this universe with when I called it unjust?”[1]

Secondly, if God does not exist then how was everything created from nothing? Why is there something rather than nothing? We might have different opinions on the origins of the universe and its age, but we all agree it’s not eternal and therefore there was a moment it came into existence. But how could it have come into existence if there was absolutely nothing before? Matter and energy do not originate from nothing; everything in the universe has a cause outside of itself. Have you ever taken your imagination back to that moment and honestly pondered on the Cause behind every cause?  Francis Collins, renowned scientist and leader of the Human Genome Project, has written: “And the very fact that the universe had a beginning implies that someone was able to begin it. And it seems to me that that had to be outside of nature.”[2]

Thirdly, if God does not exist, how come human beings exist? The chances of a universe such as ours to be created randomly are virtually non-existent. Dr Collins writes: “When you look from the perspective of a scientist at the universe, it looks as if it knew we were coming. There are 15 constants: the gravitational constant, (…) nuclear force, etc. that have precise values. If any one of those constants was off by even one part in a million, or in some cases, by one part in a billion, the universe could not have actually come to the point where we see it. (…) There would have been no galaxy, stars, planets or people.”[3] Stephen Hawking interestingly expresses: “it would be very difficult to explain why the universe would have begun in just this way except as the act of a God who intended to create beings like us.” [4]

And in fourth place, if God does not exist, how come millions upon millions of people have attested to a personal relationship with him throughout human history? People all over the world, from all sorts of social, intellectual and cultural background believe and live by their faith in a real and personal God. They affirm to be reached by his love, touched by his grace, convicted by his holiness and directed by his words. Their lives have been visibly changed and their relationship to others clearly improved after what they describe to be an encounter with Jesus. Have you considered the possibility that these millions and millions of people might be speaking the truth? Have you ever taken some time to sincerely listen to one of these people’s experiences?

As stated before, I have no pretension to convince anyone of God’s existence through the four questions above. My intention is to invite you to a frank and honest reflection as you try to look at your view about God from another perspective. May I invite you to sincerely reflect on your perception of the most important subject any of us could ever consider? May I invite you to search for more? May I invite you to be honestly open?

Hélder Favarin


[1] C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity.  Let me open a parenthesis and suggest two books that present the Christian case respectfully, logically and solidly: “The Reason for God” by Timothy Keller and “Mere Christianity”, by C.S. Lewis.

[2] Ref. – Interview of Francis Collians at http://www.salon.com/books/int/2006/08/07/collins/index2.html …Ref. in “The Reason for God,” T. Keller, Dutton, 2008

[3] Ibid.

[4] Stephen Hawking, A Brief History of Time, p. 127





Risks worthy of taking?

9 03 2012

Would I hold on to the tree branch or to my sliding shorts?

Well, before we arrive at the dilemma: only a week ago eight men and I stood with excited anticipation to enter our 23km jungle hike. The forecast of heat and rain proved correct, I pulled off my shirt to soak in every moment! Passing snakes, kangaroos, and iguanas, we pressed through cobwebs and swollen creeks of rushing water towards our final destination.

However, our steady advance came to a halt mid-stream a particularly deep creek. The rushing knee deep water caused a friend in front of me to lose balance,  slip, and begin a slide into deeper, swifter, flowing currents. At this point I took a risk.  Lunging forward, I took hold of him and pushed him into the hands of friends standing securely on higher ground. Unfortunately, as I grabbed him my waist went below the water line. Consequently, the rapidly flowing water pulled my shorts down to my thighs making it impossible to stand up! Clinging to my shorts, inclusive of all undergarments, I myself now had been dragged into the rapids! Fearing to lose total control I reached out to grasp a low lying tree branch overhanging the water. So there I was… stuck in rapids with one arm clinging to the branch, another to my shorts… and sadly, something would have to give. I cried out as I felt the remaining hope of pulling my shorts up to a socially appropriate position was tugged off the end of my shoes. Eight friends, now safely watching from shore, failed to see why I refused to leave the murky waters. Reluctantly pulling myself from the water to the sound of hysterical laughter and whistle blows, I really wondered if the risk I took to help my friend was really worthy of taking.

We all take risks, but what compels us to take them? Risks can be mundane, like riding in a car or going for a walk, or extreme. A soldier may jump on a grenade or a parent may enter a burning house. My conclusion is that we take risks mostly because we believe them to be worth taking, even though it may cost us our “shorts”.

When I read about the disciples of Jesus I am struck by the contrast of their disposition of fear to risk-taking courage. After Jesus is arrested and crucified the disciples were scared stiff, even going so far as to lock themselves into a room.[1] Yet, only a short time later the disciples are taking all sorts of risks to publically and enthusiastically to announce Jesus as the risen Lord.[2] Peter, who previously wouldn’t even admit to knowing Jesus, is suddenly risking his life taking physical and verbal beatings to tell others about Jesus![3] Acts records, “Day after day, in the temple courts and from house to house, they [the disciples] never stopped teaching and proclaiming the good news that Jesus is the Christ.[4] What compelled the disciples to move from fear to risk-taking courage? The witnessed resurrection of Jesus! The resurrection brought new life into the disciple’s vision and sent them forward with a message they believed was true, good and worth sharing— a risk worthy of taking.

Ryan Vallee


[1] John 20:19-23.

[2] Acts 5:42.

[3] John 18:15.

[4] Acts 5:42.





Was it a good time to get married?

29 02 2012

My wife and I have been enjoying married life for the past six months. We regularly look back to our engagement, wedding and honeymoon. In every way, it seemed to be perfect timing. When some of my friends heard I was engaged and about to be married, one of the comments was «Well, it’s about time! You’re in your thirties!!»

It snowed on our wedding day. Some would say that’s terrible. We thought it was exciting – perfect timing! Our second evening as a married couple was Valentine’s day. We ate at a charming restaurant to the sound of a violin and guitar. That too seemed like perfect timing!

During these past months, though, magazines and statistics here in France are noting how marriage is less and less popular[1]. Marriage is seen more and more as «a noose choking you, an exhausting burden».

So, I could not help but wonder, was it really a good time to get married?

Jean-Claude Kaufmann, a French sociologist, makes some interesting remarks: «The general movement towards individualism and celibacy is complex… It is rare, for example, that singleness is deliberately sought. Yet a growing number of those who live it don’t wish to leave it (at least temporarily), or have high expectations on the conditions for leaving it.»[2]

As one who was single for over three decades, I think his observation on complexity is accurate. When we consider the different paths people follow, many factors are at play around us and in us, making it difficult to understand why many of us remain single. In many ways, singleness is a great option. It can be very well lived. Yet, as I look back to my own path, does that mean that I didn’t have any other commitments ? Jean-Claude Guillebaud makes a provocative statement about our generation: «We judge the value of constancy, commitment and perseverance as if that involves a benevolent servitude which has become outrageous. [...]  Amazingly though, we willingly submit at the same time to other types of commitment which previously would have been judged constraining, for example, allegiance to a professional project, to oneself against all odds, to a social group or, of course, to one’s own natural tendencies.»[3] It is not that we do not know about commitment anymore. Instead, other commitments have taken the place of marriage. They come with their own limitations and burdens.

So, was it a good time to get married? At our wedding celebration, a Bible verse was shared that I found insightful. «Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm. » (Song of Solomon 8:6). The woman in the poem is asking her spouse for a commitment, inwardly and outwardly, to remain faithful to her. Wouldn’t one’s spouse find more security and stability through one’s commitment to marriage? Wouldn’t it be more fulfilling to lighten the other’s burden for him or her to be more free ?

That pattern of a commitment that sets free, lightens the burden is not easy to maintain, though. But it is found ultimately in the love Christ demonstrated, which the Scriptures place as the model of all relationships, marriage included. « Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church and gave Himself for her » (Ephesians 5:25). At the appointed time, he was committed to love and give Himself totally.

Paul Harrison


[1]« Pacs ou mariage, faire le bon choix » Publié le 30/06/2010 lepoint.fr ; http://www.insee.fr/fr/themes/document.asp?ref_id=ip1276#inter2

[2] Jean-Claude Kaufmann, La femme seule et le prince charmant, Nathan, 1999, p. 19

[3] Jean-Claude Guillebaud, La tyrannie du plaisir, Seuil, 1998, p. 471-472





More wine, more glory

24 02 2012

The story of the wedding at Cana in John 2, the account of Jesus turning water into wine, is one of the best known episodes in the New Testament, if not the whole Bible. The author, John, tells us that this was the first miraculous sign by which God revealed his glory (v. 11). Ever thought about what it means that the first sign God gives to reveal his glory, the substance of his character, is the production of alcohol?

Let’s set the scene. In the story, Mary, Jesus and his disciples are at a wedding. Some way through the celebrations, Mary alerts Jesus to the fact that the hosts have run out of wine, to which Jesus replies, “Woman, why do you involve me?” (v.4). I would love to know with what sort of tone Jesus said this, it seems like such a curious thing for him to say! Was he absorbed in a fascinating conversation that he didn’t want to wrench himself away from? Was he just generally tired of his mother’s interference?? I’m not sure, and we’ll never be sure, because his question is not answered. We don’t know why Mary involves Jesus here. She ignores his question, giving instructions to the servants simply to do whatever he tells them. They obey, filling some bath sized jars with water, which Jesus turns into fine wine.

How can it be that John associates this act with the revelation of God’s glory? I mean, seriously?? There’s a wedding. The party is in full swing, probably has been for days, and what started out as a copious amount of alcohol turns out not to be enough. The pressure is on the hosts to keep their guests fed and watered. Why should God help out?

Besides, by the time Mary intervenes, it’s quite likely that Jesus is surrounded by people who are drunk or heading that way. As the master of the banquet says to the bridegroom in verse 10, ‘Everyone brings out the choice wine first and then the cheaper wine after the guests have had too much to drink…’ The presenting problem in John 2 is that both the good wine and the cheaper wine have been consumed. It’s all gone. It’s in this context that Jesus says, ‘Okay, you’ve run out of booze. Why do you involve me?’

We don’t know why Mary thought her son should be involved in this domestic crisis. John merely tells us that this spectacular deed – turning water into wine – is the first sign through which Jesus, God in the flesh, revealed his glory. Basically, John is telling us that the glory of holy God is revealed first and foremost in an act of extraordinary, controversial and extravagant blessing, something designed not to put Israel on the map or tighten up the moral code; something designed to keep the party going, or perhaps to get the party truly started.

The wedding at Cana is not about taking care not to overdo it (that’s for another time and place). And it’s not a story to tell if you want people to believe that the emphasis in Christianity is on sin.

According to John, God’s first sign to the world, his first attempt to show people what he’s really like, is to give them more of something they really enjoy, more wine and more of the best, more goodness, more fun, more life, more reasons to celebrate. He gives them more when they thought they’d had enough. Not mindless excess, but the overflowing abundance of life.

Why did Mary involve God? We don’t know. But God got involved at her request. The wedding at Cana shows us not only that God isn’t afraid to associate his glory with something earthy, like wine, but that the divine Creator submits himself to be moved by his creatures. Jesus told Mary that his time had not yet come (v. 4) yet at her prompting, he acts. Wine for them, glory for him. In some mysterious way, God’s heavenly glory is intricately connected with good things on earth. Next time you order a bottle for friends, remember that.

Madi Simpson





We are the same

10 02 2012

This is the third of three articles to encourage healthier dialogue between evangelical Christians and the homosexual community. As such, the purpose is neither to condemn nor excuse homosexuality, but to seek to find a “common ground” that we all share, in which to begin the conversation.

So often, it seems that Christians and homosexuals see each other as being entirely at opposition. While there are undoubtedly some major issues to work through, perhaps we should start with what we have in common. And there’s actually often a lot more similarities than we usually assume.

For many Christians and homosexuals, there was a terrific, horrific moment in your life. You had wallowed in confusion about who you really are. Then you realised that “who I am” had a name, and you embraced it. This seemed liberating, but it also was really scary. It meant you had to tell your friends that you were now one of “those people”. You knew your friends had all these assumptions about what “those people” are like, much of which were wrong, but they probably wouldn’t listen. You’d eventually lose some of your friends because of this.

Then you thought about your family. And it got even more scary.

See, it’s not just that being Christian or homosexual was something that you did every now or then. It was something that defined your lifestyle, and your identity. It affected your social life, your politics, and who you dated. And it wasn’t a “phase” (no matter how many of your friends or family tried to dismiss it as such). This was who you’re planning to be for the rest of your life.

In some cases, for Christians or homosexuals, you ended up having your family – brothers, sisters, even your mother or father – utterly reject you, because they couldn’t handle who you now were. Sometimes, they did something almost worse – awkward smiles at family gatherings, everyone trying to pretend there isn’t a gigantic elephant in the room.

Then, for Christians and homosexuals, there’s the sea of judgements that people around you subject you to. And they say horrible things. Sometimes, others like you, Christians or homosexuals, were beaten up, or even killed because of this. Part of you fears you might be next.

Sometimes, for Christians and homosexuals, the only people you feel safe to be around are others who like you. They understand you. Together, you feel much stronger than you do “out there” with everybody else.

See? We have more in common that perhaps you thought we did. I admit, sometimes the barriers and fears I’ve described have, for homosexuals, been created by aggressive Christians. But I might gently suggest, some Christians are starting to experience similar barriers and fears, because of aggressive homosexuals.

The other thing to realise is that Jesus actually experienced every single one of these things, too. He realised that He was not like everybody else. He was different. There was a name for Who He was – the Messiah. On one level, that was great, but it also came with some significant costs. It meant that many who He had called friends abandoned Him, even trying to kill Him (Luke 4:22-30). It meant that many in His own family – even His brothers and mother – thought He was crazy (Mark 3:21), tried to shut Him up (Mark 3:31-35) and ridiculed Him (John 7:3-5). It meant whole crowds of people rejected Him, and falsely accused Him of terrible things. Ultimately, the only thing that they could really “pin on Him” was His identity – Who He was. Then they killed Him for it.

But there are some differences between Him, and Christians or homosexuals. Firstly, while Jesus clearly understood the terrible costs His identity would bring, from His friends, His family, and wider society, He was virtually never afraid about those costs. He had a strength that none of us can fathom. Secondly, while He deeply valued spending time with those who had a similar view of His identity, He always had times for others. Always. And He never fell into the same false judgements that everybody else did. He saw them as they really are. And because He rose again, He still sees you as you really are.

Look, I’m not going to pretend that this article, or any of these articles, take away all the issues here. But hopefully, these articles can at least show some ways that we can approach these issues more effectively. Let’s come together, with Jesus somehow in our midst, and start the conversation afresh.

Matt Gray





The Christian Sodomy Epidemic

8 02 2012

This is the second of three articles to encourage healthier dialogue between evangelical Christians and the homosexual community. As such, the purpose is neither to condemn nor excuse homosexuality, but to seek to find a “common ground” that we all share, in which to begin the conversation.

There is a serious epidemic in Christian circles, that seems to often be left unnoticed. The Church is absolutely riddled with Sodomites.

            The term “Sodomite” comes from a story in the Bible. In Genesis 19, God sent three angels to investigate the towns of Sodom and Gomorrah, because He’d heard the townspeople were doing the wrong thing. God told His plan to the great hero Abraham in Genesis 18. Abraham had seen the three angels walking along, and immediately invited them to stay with him before they went to Sodom.

Upon arriving in Sodom, the angels tried to stay in the centre of the city (the equivalent of the local hotel), but were warned against it by an immigrant in Sodom, Abraham’s nephew, Lot. Lot suggested instead that they should stay at his place, behind locked doors. The reason for this was revealed when the townsmen banged on his door, demanding that he throw his guests out to the street, so they could have sex with them. This was the final straw for God. He saved Lot and his daughters, then destroyed the city.

What was the crime of the people in Sodom and Gomorrah? With our pre-installed title of “Sodomite”, and our peculiarly western fixation with sexuality, evangelicals often assume it was their homosexuality. But if we look at both the historical and textual context of the story (in other words, do what we evangelicals often pride ourselves on doing with the Bible), we might see their crime is closer to home.

In fact, it’s all about home. In ancient near eastern society, one of the strongest moral expectations was hospitality. The Sodomites obviously weren’t good hosts to the three visitors, and that is their biggest crime. That might sound strange, unless you’re a nomad who’s wandered around the near eastern desert. To not show hospitality, especially to strangers, is considered criminal in such a context, because it essentially condemns the person to death by dehydration, freezing, heatstroke, or starvation. This is made more clear by the good guys of this story, Abraham and Lot. They show remarkable hospitality to the three strangers, which only heightens the contrast between them and the Sodomites.

Where Sodom is mentioned elsewhere in the Bible, one verse (Jude 7) criticises their “sexual immorality” (though, admittedly, that could just as well be because they were rapists, rather than that they were gay). The other verses define Sodom’s sin in terms of hospitality (ie, Jesus in Matthew 11:23-24). In Ezekiel 16:49, God specifically says Sodom’s crime was that they “were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy.” So, Biblically, a Sodomite is more accurately defined as somebody who does not welcome others.

Hospitality does not mean that you can’t have standards and expectations – you don’t have to allow a guest to leave the fridge-door open. But you need to do the hard thing of finding ways of framing those standards in ways that still help guests – especially the vulnerable – to be made to feel welcome, and safe in your home.

In my previous article, I wrote about 1 Corinthians 6:9-10: “Neither homosexuals… nor the greedy, etc… will inherit the Kingdom of God.” But the very next verse says: “And that is what some of you were. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God.”

This clearly suggests that the Corinthian church was made up of people who had been homosexual, or greedy, or whatever, when they started going there. The Corinthian Christians made them feel welcome, while also somehow finding ways to remain authentic to their belief. Eventually, they found a solution to the guests’ issues that meant the guests could become Christians themselves. The Solution was Jesus and the Spirit of God.

Sadly, some Christians today seem to be as inhospitable as the Sodomites were, especially to homosexuals, but also to other Christians who disagree with them on this issue. And, I might gently suggest, some in the homosexual community are in danger of really becoming Sodomites, by stereotyping Christians and refusing to join them in dialogue. Fortunately, though, many more of us are following the way of Abraham, Lot, and the Corinthians, and offering a refuge for all those who need it, and a space for friendly dialogue. We seek to follow the way of Jesus, Who promised, “I go to prepare a home for you…”(John 14:1-3)

Matt Gray





“Woe to the Rich”

6 02 2012

This is the first of three articles to encourage healthier dialogue between evangelical Christians and the homosexual community. As such, the purpose is neither to condemn nor excuse homosexuality, but to seek to find a “common ground” that we all share, in which to begin the conversation.

Recently, the issue of how Christians perceive homosexuality has been brought into increasing focus within wider western society. For example, in my home town of Adelaide, Australia, there is a rather famous (or perhaps infamous) group of street preachers, who are preaching primarily about how homosexuals are all going to hell.[1]

Often, it seems, those Christians who attack homosexuality frame things primarily around morality. This is sometimes called legalism, or pseudo-pietism, or Pelagianism. But while Jesus Christ did talk about morality quite a bit, He spent far, far more time talking about something else: namely, Himself. To discuss morality at the start of a conversation about Christianity is to have already missed the point. What we need to do is talk about Jesus. As I said in my previous article for Wondering Fair, “Christians don’t follow rules. They follow the One Who rules.”

This becomes all the more clear when we see how legalists usually frame the discussion about Christianity. In order to assure themselves of how much God approves of them because of their lifestyle, legalists often do two things: they find rules in the Bible that they can live up to; then they find a group that they can compare themselves to, that are not following the rules, and that they are thus “better than”. This is really comforting, at least to begin with.

An “easy target” for this kind of Christian legalism are homosexuals. I’m not going to lie – none of the Biblical passages about homosexuality endorse it, and most seem to be pretty strongly against it: Genesis 19 is the story of Sodom (we’ll look at that in the next article), Romans 1:26-27 isn’t very positive, either. 1 Corinthians 6:9-10 is another one discussed:

Or do you not know that wrongdoers will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor homosexuals nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God.

The Christian legalist highlights where it says “homosexuals… will not inherit the kingdom of God.” The problem is that when we start looking deeper at the rules in the Bible, we discover there are some pesky ones that we don’t live up to either. For example, verse 10 also says that the greedy won’t inherit the Kingdom either.

How do you define greedy? How about we define it as those who have a lot more than others, at the expense of others, and who are seeking to get more? Well, if that’s the case, most middle-class western consumerists are greedy. If you’ve had a high school education, own a car (let alone a house!), or even have two sets of clothes, you’re doing much better than about 90% of the world’s population. And many of your clothes are made by poor people who are being exploited. Face it, from a global perspective, you’re greedy.

Worse, the Bible seems to offer harsher penalties for the greedy than it does for gays. Jesus Himself (Who never directly discusses homosexuality, by the way) says this about the greedy and wealthy: “But woe to you who are rich, for you have already received your comfort.” (Luke 6:24), and “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”(Mark 10:25) And I could go on.

Now, it might be that you and I need to reorganise our financial priorities in the light of these verses, but that’s not my point here. My point is, if we’re focussing just on the rules Jesus and the early Church discussed, this one straight away means we’re all probably in a more hopeless situation than homosexuals are. All of us are doomed in a legalist Christianity. A legalist focus is therefore utterly pointless, as the Adelaide street-preachers (who are spreading their net of condemnation to include pretty much everybody now, too) inadvertently reveal. Instead, we have to make our focus be Jesus Christ, the only Hope for all of us – gay or straight, rich or poor. That may well mean all of us have to face some hard choices about our lifestyle. But such choices will be viewed within a shared experience of hope, rather than hopelessness.





The Epic Story, Part II

3 02 2012

WhichStory.jpg In my previous post, I suggested that in order to make sense of our little and everyday stories, we need a view from above. Like a cosmic director, God has revealed the broad contours of an ongoing script, and invites us to make sense of our lives from His perspective.[1] Scenes one and two are past: God designed us for good, but we’ve each rebelled and sought a script we prefer, and in the process have been damaged by evil. Now we turn to scene three for a paradoxical twist as God sorts out the mess we’ve made. …

Scene #3: Restored for Better. The Director could have fired the cast for a do-over. But instead, He entered the story through His Son. When? The Roman Empire, Israel, when BC became AD. How? Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus uniquely claimed to be God in the flesh, the long awaited and predicted Saviour (Messiah/Christ) of the world. He gave us a model of how life was meant to be lived, under his Father’s rule in a KingRestoredforBetter.jpg dom of peace and love. He called us to switch scripts, and align with God’s form to be forgiven and free. As the perfect character, Jesus stood in for our failures. He took the blame, and absorbed evil in love, crucified to cover our sin. He took the worst the world could throw at him, but after it all, rose from the dead—a real historical event worth checking out. This demonstrated that death was defeated, and the story would go on. …

Scene #4: Sent Together to Heal. The heart of the human problem is the problem of the human heart. When we admit our fSenttoHeal.jpg ailure to God, turning from our way to trust the Director’s solution in Jesus, then a new act begins. God starts the process of healing us from the inside out—revealing the part only I can play—so we can go together in the power of His Spirit to help heal a hurting world. We partner with God to restore relationships and a broken planet. No waiting until the story’s happy ending, we have a mission right now to give the world a preview of the play’s final scene. Until we exit the stage, our role is to follow Jesus by absorbing evil in love, and reconnecting everyone with a good God who designed us to be free.

Scene #5: God Sets Everything Right. For all our best efforts, we’re still broken. By ourselves, the world will never fully heal. The Director is patient, and wants everyone to freely choose the role for which we were made. But, the day is comiSetEverythingRight.jpg ng when Jesus will return, judge the world, and set everything right. We’ve all fallen short, so we need God’s mercy. As the curtain closes, every actor is brought back to give account for their actions. If you’ve accepted God’s forgiveness, your real story is just starting: a restored earth with no hate, pollution, poverty, or war. God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—will be the centre of it all, and we’ll be free in this love. But what should God do with those of us who reject Him? Everything good, true, and beautiful comes from God, so apart from Him, all that’s left is Hell. Hell is when we exclude ourselves from the Director’s plans for a do-over.

You, in short, are an actor in an epic story. But the Director has given you unprecedented freedom to choose your own adventure. All our stories, however, hinge on the lead role. So how will you respond to Jesus? If you see your story in this script, and God has grabbed your heart, then tell Him. Life can begin again right now …

“God, you designed me for good, but I’m made my own way. I’ve rejected you, hurt others, and damaged your world. I’m sorry. Thanks for entering the story in Jesus, to restore me for better. Forgive me for my sins, and fill me with your Spirit. I want to follow you now, bringing healing where there’s hurt. Help me love like you do, as a preview of how the whole world will be when you set everything right. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”





The Epic Story, Part I

1 02 2012

At Wondering Fair, we love the little story. We understand a universal God through the gritty particulars of animal instincts and awaiting adoptions, of breastfeeding babies and ‘Black Friday’ blues. Through the prism of our everyday experiences, we sense thin places where the eternal breaks into the everyday. The Divine Score resonates through the humility of crotchets and quavers, and we pause long enough to hear the music. Perhaps we may even recognise the Creator playing in the least expected places.

EpicStory.jpg But not necessarily. Like a sonata, we may add note upon note of immanent experiences, and never understand the transcendent song. Our apprehensions from below may be beautiful, but we require revelation from above to take ethereal sounds from the unknown God and return them heavenward in a reverent cantata of praise. To switch metaphors and put it simply, our little stories only make sense in light of the Big Story. So as this new year is taking form, and that we may not miss the forest for the trees, I thought it timely to tell the old, old story once again. But let’s begin with you: what kind of story are you in?[1]

Ever feel like an actor without a script? From the day you entered the world with a cry, you sensed that you’re part of something bigger: an epic story of sorts. But what kind of story are you in? A comedy or a tragedy? A meandering Indie flick? Or a sweeping drama like Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, with a battle to fight, and where love wins? How to tell? Stories abound: I’m a cosmic accident; I’m just an animal; I’m a reincarnated lost soul; I’m the experiment of a disinterested deity. Which, if any, is the true story?

What if there is a story that just fit? A story that embraces your own story, and everyday experience? A bigger story that makes sense of how we got here, of life’s meaning, the heart of our problem, and the solution to it all? What if there is a Director who isn’t silent, who has told us stuff we could never work out for ourselves, even about what happens when you shut your eyes for the last time?

We all live according to the story we think we’re in. So take a chancDescribetheWorld.jpg e and step into the following epic: a story with five scenes.[2] It’s a basic summary of another story, The Bible, which Christians believe is the Director’s take on how all our stories hang together. Let’s start in the present though.

Look around. Describe the world. What do you see? Good stuff? Like friends, footy, flowers, mountains, concerns, travel, Thai food, and so on. (Is there another planet where you’d rather be?!) But is that all? Flick on the news. What about the not so good stuff? Like addiction, depression, divorce, death, rape, corruption, war, global warming, poverty, pollution, and on it goes. Do you ever get the sense that something’s gone wrong? That this is not the way it’s supposed to be?

Why is that? We’re thirsty for a perfect world, but what can satisfy? Maybe it was good, or will be good, but right now it’s messed up. Let’s enter the Director’s Epic Story, right at the beginning, and it’ll start to make sense. …

DesignedforGood.jpg Scene #1: Designed for Good. The epic starts with God. Drop the images of a distant deity wilding lightning bolts. This story’s Director is passionate and relational, an artist who paints an Oasis and plants us there. And in the beginning, God created the Heavens and the Earth. Why? Well, He made us to love God, love each other, and cultivate the world as good gardeners should. (Imagine connection with your Creator, society in harmony without selfishness, and work which you enjoy that helps the world thrive.) This is the form in which we find freedom. But just as love is only real when it isn’t forced, the Director gives us all a choice. And clearly we’re not in Eden anymore.

DamagedbyEvil.jpg Scene #2: Damaged by Evil. “Who’s God to tell me what to do?” So we, the actors, rebelled against the Director and tried writing our own script in a form we preferred. We’ve eaten the forbidden fruit, and tried to play God. Meaning? We’ve ignored and despised God, abused each other, and vandalized the planet. That’s sin—missing the mark for which we were made. We’ve turned inward, and act like the universe revolves around us. And we’ve built our lives around good stuff that can never satisfy like God: relationships, sex, status, sport … our symptoms differ, but the syndrome’s the same. The result? The world’s damaged, our relationships are divided, and our identity (our heart) is a mess. We’re broken, and we break. Worse, we’re to blame. God is loving and just, so what’s a passionate Director to do?

For that, you’ll have to tune in on Friday The Epic Story Part II.


Dave Benson

[1] See http://issuu.com/nikanddaveabroad/docs/epic_story, http://thebigstory.org.au/ and http://issuu.com/nikanddaveabroad/docs/big_story for a graphical take on The Epic Story.

[2] Adapted, with permission, from James Choung, True Story: A Christianity Worth Believing In (IVP, 2008).








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