Skin Color and Collar Color

A few days after I posted my thoughts on Father's Day, I came across the following ad campaign that illustrates my point in a different way. In trying to expose one kind of backwards thinking, the ad agency responsible for these ads (Publicis, Paris) has unwittingly enforced another kind. After all, who could possibly want to be a lowly Road Worker, a miserable Cleaning Lady, or nasty old Garbage Man (the titles of the 3 ads seen here)?

Hey minorities, how about doing something respectable with your life, like being a stock broker, doctor, or lawyer? Honorable professions that require a college education. Don't waste your time with inferior blue-collar occupations – you know, menial jobs that require physical labor and sweat. Jobs that may even require you to (gasp!) work outside under the sun. What a waste of potential! Do something that people value (especially rich people). Pursue a career that will make you worth something to society (because being human isn't enough). Reach for the stars! Or for God's sake at least try for some kind of desk job.

Everyone can agree with the headline: YOUR SKIN COLOR SHOULDN'T DICTATE YOUR FUTURE. All people should have an equal opportunity to become whatever they want to be, regardless.  But racism isn't the only form of bigotry. Many who claim to be the biggest supporters of racial equality are completely unaware of their classist prejudices – whether based on vocation, education or some other silly category cooked up by academic snobs and white-collar elitists. If an inner-city kid wants to go to Stanford and become a world-class millionaire athlete, OR go to work every day for three decades and retire as a garbage truck driver, how dare anyone say that the latter was a waste. Like I said in my previous post, what one does for a living – whether they "love" their job or not – should be secondary to one's character and commitment to family and friends.

Father's Day Reflections

Recently, I came across a video of a commencement speech given by Jim Carrey. In an uncharacteristically serious tone, he gave some rather inspiring words of wisdom to the graduates:

"So many of us choose our path out of fear disguised as practicality. What we really want seems impossibly out of reach and ridiculous to expect, so we never dare to ask the universe for it. I’m saying, I’m the proof that you can ask the universe for it. My father could have been a great comedian but he didn’t believe that was possible for him. So he made a conservative choice – instead he got a safe job as an accountant. And when I was 12 years old he was let go from that safe job. And our family had to do whatever we could do to survive. I learned many great lessons from my father – not the least of which is that you can fail at what you don’t want [to do]. So you might as well take a chance at doing what you love."

Carrey's inspirational challenge is one that I can certainly appreciate in many respects. Upon graduating from high school, I pursued what I loved – art. When I discovered the value of philosophy – I sold everything I owned and moved across the country to pursue further education in the discipline (twice). Even now, as a teacher, I encourage my students to do big things and to pursue their dreams. But after considering the evolution of my own life and career, as well as the various paths my students have taken, like Carrey, my thoughts turn to my dad – particularly this past Father’s Day weekend.

My dad worked at the same chemical plant across four decades. I’ve never asked him (I don’t need to), but I’m sure he didn’t love his job. I’m sure he didn’t lay awake at night as a young boy dreaming about the day he would get to build scaffolds up the sides of processing units in the sweltering heat of Texas Gulf Coast summers. I’m sure he didn’t find his identity from working graveyard shifts amidst hazardous materials. And while it is clear from the video that Carrey has a great deal of affection and respect for his father, I wonder if his comments aren’t somewhat patronizing, if not condescending. He doles out a couple of backhanded compliments to his dad for making “conservative” choices – “safe” choices. And then he offers himself up as victorious “proof” that, by asking the universe, everyone can attain their dreams. But it seems to me that it was not only Carrey's talent, resolve or the universe that somehow made his dreams possible – but rather his father’s sacrifices.

Since Carrey’s father presumably made such tough decisions to ensure the well-being of his family, why label his sacrifices “conservative” and “safe”? Why does he not, instead, recognize his father as brave and selfless? After all, if his dad was as talented as Carrey says he was, did he not risk his own future success? Such selflessness doesn’t seem safe or conservative to me.

I agree with Carrey that it can be a bad thing to make decisions out of fear – the crippling kind that keeps us from doing what we ought to do. The kind that keeps us from things that are actually good for us. But is the decision not to speed through a red light based on safe and conservative fear? Or because we love the life, family and friends that have been given to us? Perhaps it is Carrey’s either/or scenario that’s the problem here – particularly because it doesn't leave any room for the exercise of wisdom in the face of risk.

Should we love our jobs? I think, yes and no. Some are fortunate enough to have jobs they love without trampling their family and personal character, but I doubt that most of us should expect this. This is not to say that anything else is a lesser form of existence – as if working hard and making a living to provide for your family is somehow selling yourself short. I suppose we can “love” our jobs as we love any means to an end – with balance and perspective. I love barbecue, but not in the same way that I love my wife.

My dad is the hardest working man I have ever known – a real man’s man. But unlike the workaholic – my dad wasn’t controlled by his career or his unfulfilled aspirations. If my dad “loved” his job at all, it is only because it afforded him the resources to provide for his family; to make it possible for my mom to stay at home and raise her babies; to take us on summer vacations; to coach my little league sports teams; to allow me to attend college; to work for 30 years as a youth pastor in churches too small to pay him; to “adopt” many of my boyhood friends as his own children. These are the things that made him happy – not having the career of his dreams.

As for me, I guess I “love” what I do as an art director, designer and professor. But I didn’t get here on my own efforts and it certainly wasn’t because I asked the universe for it. My dad (and of course my mom) played much too big of a role for me to misplace the credit in this way. Regardless, I would like to think that – precisely because of my dad’s influence – if I had never set foot on a college campus, instead, choosing to work a blue-collar job in the hot sun instead of an air-conditioned office, that I’d still have the same perspective on what true happiness and success look like.

Teaching has shown me that many college students don’t know what kind of career will make them happy. After all, it's impossible to predict the future and the kind of career that makes one happy can change as one grows older. I've had several students change careers after dedicating their whole college experience to one particular path. As difficult as this kind of transition can be, the real shame is the destruction often left in the wake of a wagon hitched to a star at all costs. Those who are willing to do anything and everything to obtain the golden ring rarely have their priorities straight. They take risks – not necessarily because it's the right or wise thing to do – but because of the potential for great personal reward. And besides, tossing caution and safety to the wind makes for a great story regardless of the outcome. Tales of steadiness, self-sacrifice, faithfulness and wisdom tend to bore us. Likewise, I’ve seen far too many young people "holding out” for the perfect opportunity that’s worthy of their loftiest aspirations. Instead of getting their hands dirty on the way to obtaining their dreams, they sit around and do nothing. Having grown up in a blue-collar family in a blue-collar town, I cringe when people act as if they’re too good to work fast food or construction – you know, “menial” labor jobs.

There is great honor and significance in doing any job well, especially when it is done to provide a life for the ones you love. My dad taught me this and I am grateful that I benefited from his selfless sacrifice and generosity. The life he has lived is anything but conservative and safe. He risked his own happiness for the sake of his family's – and, in the end, he got both.

Happy Father's Day, Dad.

SIX SCENES FROM 12 YEARS A SLAVE

On the recommendation of a good friend, Cortney and I recently went to see Twelve Years a Slave. The film deals with the American slave trade in the mid 1800s and is based on the true story of Solomon Northup – a free-born African American man living in New York state. After living his entire life as a free man with a wife, three children and home of his own, Northup is stripped of his dignity and identity when kidnapped by men pretending to be his friends. He is smuggled south, where he is sold into slavery. The rest of the film tells the story of his twelve long years as a plantation slave and his desperate attempts to contact his family for help.

I haven’t included any real “spoilers” in the six scenes I discuss below since the film is based on Northup’s autobiography – released in 1853. But whatever you do, don’t let this review serve as a replacement for going to see it yourself. A top contender for the Oscar for Best Picture, I would commend it to everyone (though it may be a bit too graphic for young children). So, here they are, my thoughts on six scenes that really stuck with me from 12 Years a Slave.

SCENE 1
The film offers many poignant reminders of our country’s brutal and not-so-distant past, as well as the work that still needs to be done in the area of racial prejudice and reconciliation. However, the most disturbing scene for me starts with Northup thrashing about as he dangles from a noose around his neck, surrounded by a group of white field bosses. The overseer arrives just in time to disperse the lynch mob, and though Northup is saved from a gruesome death, the overseer decides to teach him a lesson for being a troublemaker. So instead of cutting the rope, the overseer lowers Northup just enough so that the very tips of his toes barely scrape the ground.

For what seems to be an eternity, we watch as a human being hangs there, gurgling and gasping, unable to call for help as his neck bears the bulk of his body’s weight. Northup is left hanging there all day, and as if this weren’t enough, the rest of the slaves on the plantation come out of their hiding places and go about their chores within full view of Northup – heads down, eyes averted from the abomination occurring in their very midst. The scene is relentless and excruciatingly long. But it is clear that this is the director’s intention. The scene repulses you and at the same time begs you not to hide your eyes. Yes, to witness the heinous injustice perpetrated by someone else, but also as a way for the audience to wrestle with the idea that, in one way or another, all of our hands are dirty.

As much as I squirmed during this and other difficult scenes, I made myself watch. I refused to turn my head, not because I’m some great champion or martyr, but because I recognized the occasion as an opportunity to drive out whatever traces remain of my own racist subtleties. To come to grips with the reality that there are pockets of prejudice that I ignore or call by other names. Whether due to my upbringing, my cultural context, my own ignorance or preconceived notions – whatever the case, I wanted it gone – every last bit of backwards thinking regarding the obvious fact that the helpless man hanging at the end of that rope was just like me.

But as much as I needed the reminder, there were several points throughout this film that I could not help but think of modern parallels – other injustices that people find it hard to think introspectively about. As you read, there may come a few moments when my case starts to feel long and drawn out. Some of this is intentional but I only ask that you give yourself a chance to feel the weight of it. Before you look away, before you say to yourself that you've heard it all before – consider whether or not this film provides a fresh lens with which to see an age-old problem. Stick with me for five more scenes.


SCENE 2
After Northup unknowingly kisses his family goodbye for the last time for the next 12 years, he wakes up in a dark room, chained to the floor. The door of his cell is eventually opened by a character known as Burch. Northup boldly addresses his captor – immediately notifying him of his name and his most basic human nature: “I am Solomon Northup! I am a free man!” Burch acts as if he doesn’t already know this and sarcastically invites Northup to prove his claim to freedom – as if this self-evident fact about all human beings is something anyone should have to “prove”. It becomes clear that Northup will not be able to reason with such a hard and calloused man. Burch knows he has the upper hand and sneers, “You ain't a free man… Yer nuthin' but a runaway nigger from Georgia.” With this, Burch denies Northup's most basic identity as a human; he makes up a lie to obscure the facts of where Northup really came from; and he assigns to Northup an objectified label instead of a person's name.


SCENE 3
Northup is shipped south to the slave market in New Orleans where he is purchased by a man named William Ford. In Ford we have a complex character who, though a slave owner far from innocent, is described by Northup as a "kind, noble, candid, Christian man." He is a man of principle, but one who is also caught at the crossroads of his time. Ford is the one who rushes to cut Northup down as soon as he learns of his employees' cruelty. While Ford tends to Northup’s fragile condition – barely able to speak – Northup pulls Ford in close and tries to tell him the truth about his secret identity, “Master Ford, you must know – I am not a slave.”

The look on Ford’s face reveals that this confession was no news to him, having already taken note of Northup's behavior and abilities – the characteristics and dignity of a man and not of a primitive slave. Conflicted about the position this puts him in, Ford interrupts, “I cannot hear that!” Here stands a man who is not only sympathetic to Northup’s circumstances, but a good man who has the power to grant freedom if only he weren’t so afraid of reprisal from the surrounding community. Northup repeats his confession but again Ford interrupts, “I am trying to save your life!” Ford goes on to explain his completely contradictory plan to “save" Northup’s life by selling him to another plantation owner named Edwin Epps – a cruel and hard man known widely as a “nigger breaker".

THINGS TO NOTE:
– A good person is capable of suppressing the truth.
– It’s better to admit hypocrisy and guilt than to pretend ignorance.
– Silencing the conscience leads to irrationality and callousness.
– Is it possible to make a person’s life better by sending them to a brutal death?
– Doing the right thing is often costly.

 
SCENE 4
This film has a peculiar ability to squash any possibility of brushing off its message as something we’ve all heard before. At every turn we are reminded of what we cannot afford to forget. Yes, because these are the facts of our history, but also because humans are prone to repeat their mistakes.

There is one scene in this film that lingers in the memory in a much different way than the others – arguably the most haunting scene of them all. While working deep in a overgrown area, Northup is startled when he suddenly crosses paths with a Native American man quietly making his way across the land. Within the span of a few brief moments, their eyes lock; no words are exchanged, but volumes are spoken. During this short encounter Northup is reminded that he is not alone, nor the first to be driven from his home and treated as something less than human. And we are reminded that slavery is only one of the many times our country has treated certain people groups as though they were less than human – their lives not as valuable as the lives of the ruling class.

It would have been much more difficult and costly to expand in the Americas if the original settlers had determined to treat with dignity the native populations that inhabited “our” land. But in the end, they deemed their future hopes and dreams worthy of the carnage and bloodshed – slaughtering untold millions along the way. Likewise, it would have been much more difficult and costly for whites to make their way in the new world had it not been for slavery. But in the end, they decided that the way of life to which they had become accustomed was more important than the actual lives of the slaves – and again, the lives and dignity of millions, trampled.

Instead of curing our ignorance, the explosion of modern technology in the 20th century has only proved to facilitate America’s insistence on abusing “lesser” people groups. In a provocative and rather frightening article, Dr. Tiffany Miller notes that in 1907, the state of Wisconsin asked Edward A. Ross [professor and future national chairman of the ACLU] to provide expert advice regarding the implementation of forced sterilization programs. His suggestion? Start with a narrow definition of what it means to be a “degenerate,” and then, as the public becomes more accustomed to the practice, expand the program until it reaches maximal impact. Another influential American eugenicist at the time, Harry Laughlin, thought this would include the “bottom” 10% of the U.S. population.

Conspicuously absent from most history text books is the little-known fact that Nazi Germany’s systematic dehumanization and extermination of the Jews was a direct product of the eugenics movement popular in United States – advocated at the highest levels of university scholarship and integrated into U.S. public policy decades before Hitler endorsed the program. Again, Miller points out that, during the rise of the Nazi party, “Fritz Lenz… a man who became one of the leading advocates of the Nazi’s 'racial hygiene’ program – criticized his countrymen for lagging behind the United States in the enactment of [forced] sterilization laws.”

After the war ended and the issue of forced sterilizations came up at the Nuremberg war crime tribunals, many Nazis cited the United States as having provided the inspiration for the Nazi model that, not only resulted in hundreds of thousands of forced sterilizations, but also expanded to include “euthanizations” of those who suffered from epilepsy, paralysis, mental disorders and other medical conditions; as well as homosexuals and others deemed as "moral degenerates”. As the world became aware of these horrors after the war, one would think this would signal the end of the eugenics movement in America. But shockingly, dozens of states across the nation continued these programs and as late as 1981 in Oregon. By the end of the “American Century,” between 70,000 and 100,000 women were deemed unfit to enter the American gene pool when they were involuntarily sterilized by federal and state-run agencies because they were non-white, poor, unintelligent or just part of the wrong social class. Many sterilizations were not just involuntary but carried out under the threat of revoking welfare benefits and basic healthcare services if they didn’t comply.

THINGS TO NOTE:
– These are not problems of a bygone era, but a repeated pattern that continues today.
–  We have a tendency to naively trust modern “wisdom" and technology.
– Educated, civilized people can nurture ignorance and destructive tendencies of the highest order.



SCENE 5
As the film nears the climax, a female slave named Patsey sneaks away for a few moments for no other reason than to obtain a small piece of soap from a sympathetic neighbor because the stench of her own body causes her to gag. The other slaves have access to such humble provisions, but because Patsey happens to be the object of Master Epps' twisted affection (who repeatedly rapes Patsey), Mrs. Epps denies her the simple decency to wash herself as a way to punish her husband and his helpless victim. When Master Epps notices that Patsey is missing, he goes on a rampage. She isn’t gone for more than a minute when she comes running back to the house, soap in-hand as proof. But it’s too late. Epps has already made a scene, drawing the attention of his wife and the rest of the slaves.

Mrs. Epps recognizes the situation as a perfect opportunity to punish both parties – demanding that her husband flog Patsey. Innocence is caught-up in the middle of a situation that she had no part in starting and now both pride and jealousy must be appeased. Northup tries to diffuse the situation, but instead becomes an unwilling participant in Epps' most vicious expression of cruelty yet. Instead of giving his bitter wife the satisfaction of whipping Patsey himself, Epps orders Northup to do it under threat. Northup reluctantly takes the whip and begins to strike Patsey. Epps is not satisfied with Northup’s half-hearted effort and demands that he try harder or else he will begin shooting the other slaves, one by one. Again Northup tries his best to comply, but Epps’ rage will not be satisfied. He eventually takes the whip from Northup and commences with giving Patsey a proper whipping that literally mutilates the flesh on the young girl’s back. As Patsey shrieks in agony, Northup issues a fearless indictment:

“Thou devil! Sooner or later, somewhere in the course of eternal justice thou shalt answer for this sin!”

To which Epps coldly replies,

“Sin? There is no sin. A man does how he pleases with his property.”

It wasn’t really until this scene that the universality of the film’s message crystallized in my mind, extending far beyond what I had expected; mapping perfectly onto several modern parallels to slavery. But for now, one last scene.

THINGS TO NOTE:
– The idea of “people as property” leads to a lack of personal accountability.
– The injustice that results from bad choices taken out on innocent people caught in middle.
 

SCENE 6
Toward the end of the film we meet the only character in a position to go toe-to-toe with the likes of Master Epps – a carpenter named Samuel Bass from Canada. Epps hired Bass to construct some buildings on his property and, since Northup was also skilled at carpentry, the two became friends while working together. Northup eventually confided his story in Bass and asked for his help.

In a scene straight out of Northup’s autobiography, Bass confronts Epps about his ownership of slaves. Bass inquires, “Is everything right because the law allows it? Suppose they'd pass a law taking away your liberty and making you a slave?”

Epps scoffs at the possibility but Bass presses the issue again, heightening the already charged atmosphere. An increasingly agitated Epps retorts, “That ain't a supposable case,” as if to remind Bass just how deep in the South he was. But again Bass presses the issue:

“Because the law states that your liberties are undeniable? Because society deems it so? Laws change. Social systems crumble. Universal truths are constant. It is a fact, it is a plain fact that what is true and right is true and right for all. White and black alike.”

A 21st CENTURY PARALLEL
European explorers saw the Americas as “theirs” for the taking. So they started referring to the inhabitants of this continent as “savages” to dehumanize them and to soothe their aching consciences so that they could continue pressing toward a way of life they believed was their right to claim – even if it meant wiping out an entire race of people that stood in the way.

Of course, Americans soon realized that they couldn't sustain this way of life without the scarred backs and broken necks of slaves because, after all, it wasn’t reasonable for whites to sacrifice their way of life after having come so far to attain it. So they started calling people with black skin “niggers” to dehumanize them; to soothe their aching consciences; so that they could continue whipping, raping and lynching – or simply turning a blind eye.

The 3/5ths Compromise, small pox blankets, eugenics, ethnic cleansing, forced sterilizations – a clear pattern has been established that anyone who gets in the way of the "American Dream” is systematically labeled as something less than a person so that they can be treated as sub-human objects – especially if they don’t look or act exactly like us.

So where am I going with all of this? Director Steve McQueen has done us all a great service because this film will not let us forget the ugliness of slavery. But the true power of 12 Years a Slave resides in its ability to remind us that this is a self-destructive pattern that the human race is prone to repeat. And the pattern is not so much a pattern of cruel things that we have done to each other as it is a pattern of falling right back into the foolish pride of thinking that we are somehow too civilized and too educated too fall prey to such backward thinking.

Again, let me implore you to feel the weight of the matter and to truly consider in our modern context. We cringe in horror when Master Epps speaks of Northup and Patsey as his “property,” giving him the “right” to treat them however he pleases – even if it means ending their lives. After all, they really aren’t people, per se. I mean, look at the different color of their skin and the texture of their hair. They can’t even read or write. For goodness sake, they're practically animals – niggers. Again, we cringe at such talk.

But when a mother (or father) speaks of the life growing inside the womb in the same terms, somehow our society seems blind to the same old pattern creeping back in. This thing growing in my body and I have the right to do whatever I choose with it – even if it means ending its life. After all, it’s not really a person, per se. I mean, it looks more like an alien than a human. They can’t even live on their own outside the womb. For goodness sake, a human fetus looks just like an animal fetus early on. Fetus. Embryo. Tissue. Thing. It. We’ll call it anything but a baby girl or baby boy with a name.

In light of all this, what do we make of Northup’s plight? He can’t speak for himself; unable to get a message out to his family – silenced by a system he has no control over. What do we make of Patsey’s plight? Brought into the middle of a situation she didn’t contribute to? What are we to make of William Ford? A good person. A principled person. But a person who silenced his conscience because of the social and financial hardships he would have to endure if he did the right things – the hard thing. And what are we to make of Edwin Epps? A man who thinks he is well within his rights to take the life of the weak simply because they are “his” to do with as he pleases.

In light of all this, what are we to make of ourselves? What role would we play in a modern version of this film?

GETTING EMOTIONAL ABOUT IMPASSIBILITY: An Existential Defense

When you think about what God is like, what comes to mind? The Bible tells us that He is holy, patient, just, merciful, faithful and sovereign, among other things – that He is Love itself (1 John 4:8). A few other traits on the top of this list might be his “omni” characteristics: He is omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent. Sometimes we even talk about God in negative terms of what He is not:  in-finite (not limited), in-effable (not-describable), im-material (not physical) and im-mutable (not changeable).

But is God also – impassible? No, it's not a typo and impassibility isn’t a subject you’ll hear much about on Sunday mornings, but its meaning is found in the word “passion,”  the Latin root of which means to suffer. It’s why we refer to the suffering that Jesus experienced leading up to and on the cross as the passion of Christ. Negate “passion” with the prefix “im-” and you get a word that, when attributed to God, means that God does not suffer – impassible. 

On the surface this might not seem hard to swallow since, after all, an omnipotent Being that causes mountains to melt like wax in His presence probably isn’t in the habit of your typical forms of suffering. But the doctrine of divine impassibility doesn’t just include the idea that God doesn’t suffer pain; it also entails that God doesn't have emotions like humans do. A God without emotions? No wonder it’s not a topic we hear about on Sunday mornings. It’s not the kind of thing that fills offering plates or new member classes. Our modern touchy-feely context, has turned the topic of divine impassibility into a widely contentious, emotionally-charged issue for the first time in the 2,000 year history of the church.

Even though divine impassibility might not be as well-known as God’s more popular attributes – His love, holiness and omni-traits – it is an aspect of His nature that has been affirmed by the overwhelming majority of trusted church authorities, preachers and authors down through the ages. Augustine, Anselm, Aquinas, Luther, Calvin, Edwards, Spurgeon, C.S. Lewis and others all endorsed the view that God does not have emotions. So we’re not dealing with some weird new doctrine cooked up by a fringe group of stoic stick-in-the-muds on the outskirts of Christianity. 

It is, rather, a time-tested mainstay of Christian theology that wasn't even debated in the church until the mid twentieth century, emerging as a reaction to both world wars and the Holocaust, most notably in the work of Barth, Moltmann, Bonhoeffer and Brunner. More recently, suffering-God theology has gained interest in its strongest form among process theologians and Open Theists, while subtle, more sophisticated versions of it have surfaced among controversial Catholic theologians like Hans Urs von Balthasar and Hans Küng. Even widely-respected conservative evangelical scholars who claim to hold to divine impassibility have opted for limp, watered-down versions of the doctrine characterized by inconsistencies and what seems to be a general desire to have their cake and eat it too. Though it is not the primary focus of this paper, I will start by addressing a few common objections to impassibility so that they don’t get in the way of my case for a more existential defense. 

A Brief Look at Common Objections

The first line of objections voiced about impassibility is usually, “But what about Jesus?” He was God and obviously suffered. He even had emotions, evidenced by His anger toward the money changers and his weeping over the death of Lazarus. But the controversy over impassibility is a much different issue when it comes to the person of Christ (who was God in-the-flesh) because the church has always affirmed the obvious reality that Christ suffered. However, His suffering was understood to be confined to his human nature (in-the-flesh), precluding any suffering in His divine nature, including the persons of the Trinity. The profundity of the Trinity is rivaled only by the mystery of the Incarnation. So that we don’t get too sidetracked by a discussion unrelated to the focus of this paper, let it suffice to say that the church as a whole officially condemned teachings that claimed suffering in the Godhead as heresies early in the third century (e.g., Sabellianism and Patripassianism).

Once the Incarnation issue is settled or tabled for a later time, critics will usually bring up difficulties with reconciling biblical passages that forcefully express God’s anger, pleasure, jealousy and other emotional states. The clip featuring Oprah Winfrey should serve as a lesson to us all that this debate is much bigger than just a bunch of theological hair-splitting. Oprah’s misunderstanding as a young woman altered the entire trajectory of her life and thus the lives of multiplied millions of followers within her circle of influence. Apparently she didn't search very hard for more substantial answers beyond her knee-jerk reaction, but she is nonetheless picking up on a palpable tension here. What are we supposed to think when the Bible says so explicitly, “For I, the LORD your God, am a jealous God” (Ex. 20:5 ) and “for you shall worship no other god, for the LORD, whose name is Jealous, is a jealous God” (34:14)? God Himself underscores his warning by saying that his very NAME is Jealous – with a capital J! But is God really a jealous lover, pacing holes in the golden carpet of Heaven, huffing and puffing at the thought of his bride (the church) being unfaithful?

The short answer to this dilemma is simply addressed by proper hermeneutics (Bible interpretation techniques). We know from the Scriptures that Jesus was literally born in an actual town called Bethlehem. The Bible also says that, “He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge” (Ps. 91:4). But after reading the second passage, most people wouldn’t conclude that God is a bird-like creature with actual feathers and wings. No, because we read passages like these as they were meant to be read, as metaphors – as poetry. Why? Is it just a capricious choice to interpret a particular passage literally or figuratively based on how well it serves a particular agenda? No, because we also know from the Scriptures that God is a spirit and that spirits are not composed of bodies, feathers, wings, arms, legs, eyes, hair or any other physical part attributed to God in the Scriptures.

But figurative language like this is not meaningless or purely relative just because it’s not meant to be taken literally. Several years ago I went on a missions trip to a remote part of Brazil. While speaking to natives living deep in the Amazon jungle we had to communicate through two different interpreters, one who translated English into Portuguese and another who translated Portuguese into the native tongue of the Sateré people – a patience-testing exercise similar to the telephone game I played as a child. On one particular occasion the chief of the village we were in kept repeating, “Jesus is a chicken. Jesus is a chicken,” back and forth several times through both of our frustrated translators who were just as stumped as we were. Our confusion came from the fact that we were interpreting his statement literally, unaware that he was referring to the figurative language used by Christ himself in Matthew 23 when he is weeping over Jerusalem as a “hen who gathers her chicks under her wings” (v.37). The light bulb eventually switched on above all the foreign faces in the room as we nodded our heads in unison, “Ohhhhh… Jesus is a chicken.”

Verses about God’s nostrils, hands and mouth really do pick out truth about Him, but in an analogous way. The psalmist uses language about God’s “wings” and “feathers” to describe Him as our loving Protector – something that is literally true about Him. Likewise, the doctrine of impassibility simply entails that when the Bible attributes human emotions to an infinite, immaterial, immutable God, it does so metaphorically, or more specifically, anthropomorphically. 

One last common objection I'd like to deal with very quickly is, "What about the Scriptures that say God is Love?" I mean, c'mon Mark, surely you're not trying to tell me that God doesn't even exhibit positive emotions like love and joy?" To put it simply, love and joy are not emotions in this case, so there is no need to worry about God being some kind of divine statue who is cold and indifferent to us. See Doug Beaumont's brief treatment of this issue in Aquinas' Summa Contra Gentiles.

There are many other strong arguments for impassibility since it is thoroughly tied to other aspects of God's nature (particularly His immutability, immateriality, aseity and perfection). And though so much more could be said at this point, my goal here is not to give a rigorous theological/philosophical defense of impassibility. I need to move forward at the risk of inadequately explaining this often misunderstood doctrine so as not to get bogged down in questions (good questions) unrelated to my main defense. Perhaps this is inevitable and your comments will bear this out. But, for the time being, I would simply ask that you recognize the overwhelming consensus of church history for the better part of the last two millennia that have affirmed and defended the doctrine of divine impassibility. My goal here today is to give a defense of divine impassibility that comes from a more existential angle.

An Existential Defense

With that being said, let me shift gears so that I can tease out what I will argue is the primary objection to adopting an impassible view of God. You may find yourself taking little issue with divine impassibility up to this point as long as it remains an abstract theological concept. But it doesn’t take a theologian or philosopher to recognize the far-reaching ramifications this doctrine may have for everyday faith.

It wasn’t so long ago that impassibility sounded like pure madness to my own ears, so I’d like to present some of the ways I came to see how wonderful it is that God does not have emotions. Admittedly, it sounds strange, doesn’t it? When have you ever said to someone, “You have no emotions!” and meant it as a compliment? So why should it be any different with God? The reason I’m not spending a lot of time with a biblical/theological/philosophical defense is that I really don’t think most people who are reluctant to accept impassibility reject it for these kinds of reasons. Rather, it is for emotional reasons that the idea of an emotionless God makes so many of us uneasy.

When I first came into contact with the doctrine of impassibility, the familiar communication and the precious sense of intimacy I had come to know with the Lord came to a screeching halt. I was constantly afraid of ascribing something to God that isn’t actually true of Him. It was nothing short of crippling, even though I knew it was perfectly acceptable to speak to and of God with figurative language. After all, biblical writers did it and sometimes (even most of the time) figurative language is all we have at our disposal. In fact, our words can never fully describe God, it’s what it means for Him to be ineffable. But this was no consolation because even if I was eventually able to return to a more natural use metaphor, analogy and poetry, I wasn’t sure that it would matter.

In my prayer life:
“Lord, I’m sorry for grieving the Holy Spirit yesterday by my sin.”
“Wait… never mind, you’re not actually grieved.”

During worship:
“Lord, I sing of your greatness, be pleased with my worship.”
“Oh wait… never mind, you’re not actually moved by this at all.”
 

What may seem to be an unrelated side note at first glance, Dominican priest, Gilles Emery points out that historic church councils have not only rejected pantheism in it’s most blatant forms, but also in its more subtle forms, denouncing the notion that “God might acquire a greater perfection or a greater happiness from creation or by means of action in the world.”  (Divine Impassibility and the Mystery of Human Suffering, Keating and White, p.34) Accepting the fact that God is not the least bit affected or saddened by all the suffering and evil He sees in the world (including my own sin) was hard enough to accept, but the idea that He isn’t even moved to pleasure or delighted by the good things we do either (e.g., prayer, worship, acts of service) was almost too much to bear. An unfamiliar breed of fear crept in on me as a precious piece of my relationship with God was evaporating into little more than a hollow nostalgia right before my eyes. It almost brought me to the point of despair; the only solace I could find was in contemplating passages like Ps. 22:1-2:

My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?
Why are You so far from helping Me,
And from the words of My groaning?
O My God, I cry in the daytime, but You do not hear…

It’s no wonder why critics of impassibility think that, by suggesting God doesn’t have emotions, it makes Him out to be some kind of cold, heartless, indifferent android floating around in space somewhere, totally disinterested in humanity. But as someone who finally came out on the other side, let me say before we go any further, nothing could be further from the truth! Now, relax and take a sigh of relief if you can.

When I first crashed into this doctrine, I had no idea that eventually I would see God’s lack of emotion as something that would pull me emotionally closer to Him. But first, I had to relinquish the idol I had fashioned of Him based on my own image (an image that included emotions like my own). Ironically, it was this emotional idol that turned out to be more akin to an android – which shouldn’t have been surprising considering that I had come to think of God much like a robot, one that I could program with my prayers and push buttons through worship to get what I want.

But now He is like a lion, wild, sovereign and free to do whatever He wants. The fact that an impassible God cannot be swayed is anything but a character flaw. On the contrary it is one of the most beautiful things about Him because it assures us of God's complete freedom to act. So when we are united with Him, we can be assured that it is for no other reason than that He wanted to be united with us, and in no way because we have persuaded or manipulated Him to draw us to His side. 

When humans fail to be moved by emotions, it’s true, they become nothing more than heartless, impersonal, machines. But thankfully God is not a man, so things work differently with Him. I now realize that God is so utterly beyond my use of words that I must rely on metaphors, analogies and poetry as I stumble to proclaim His majesty through prayer and worship. So, it is right and good to unreservedly say of God that we are kept safe in His hands; that He is jealous when our affections flirt with idols; that He exhibits anger when He executes His righteous judgment; and that He grieves when we sin... if we understand these things to be true of Him insofar as our limited forms of expression can convey. This is why artists and musicians should feel compelled to push the boundaries of their creativity as they strain to approach the unapproachable Light in their work until that Day when we see Him face to face.

I see interesting parallels here with the reasons many people reject Christianity and the church. Take for example the problem of evil; it is much more of an emotional/existential problem than a logical one. Likewise, many unbelievers and disgruntled Christians alike refuse to become a part of a church, not because they see a lack of truth or goodness in the church, but because they see an abject lack of beauty. Likewise, it seems that the once overwhelming support for divine impassibility has shifted, not because of some new argument that has been discovered, but because most Christians no longer see the beauty inherent in an impassible God. Many are familiar with Handel’s Messiah, but he also composed an oratorio based on the story of the resurrection featuring an aria sung by the character of Mary Magdalene entitled Se Impassible, Immortale… translation – "Thou Impassible, Immortal." That is my goal, as counterintuitive as it may sound, to hopefully show you a glimpse of just how beautiful it is that God is unmoved by our suffering and unfettered by emotions Himself.

Let’s assume for the moment that God does have feelings. Consider how many times God offers His love to us only to be rejected. Now, imagine how much pain that would cause Him to suffer. Time after time the Holy Spirit’s tugging, beckoning and wooing is dismissed in exchange for lesser earthly pleasures – as C.S. Lewis puts it in The Weight of Glory, “making mud pies in a slum.” After this, you would have to imagine that God’s patience and persistence would start to grow thin due to the tremendous amount of pain inflicted by the multiplied billions of people on this earth. And we’re not just talking about the kind of pain you and I suffer here. No, we’re talking about Divine pain. And what pain could be greater than Divine pain? What kind of unimaginable horror is the pain that is somehow wrenched in the heart of an infinite God? Pain that you and I can’t even fathom. Is it unreasonable to say an infinite amount? The bottom line is, if God suffers, how great that suffering would be, indeed.

One would have to wonder if God would grow weary of this kind of contempt as Love unimaginable is repeatedly brushed off like a pesky case of dandruff. How long could He suffer the desecration of the merciful gift He offers us in His dear Son? How long could he continue to suffer before He had to take a break from pursuing our wicked hearts? And how long could He bear the heartache before He quit seeking us altogether?

One might be tempted at this point to say, “But God is big enough to handle suffering in a way we cannot.” But I would submit to you that, if God’s tremendous size or strength makes it possible for Him to cope with suffering, it won’t be long before we’re right back at impassibility. How so? Well, if God can handle the grief we cause Him because He is bigger than the pain, I would ask, how much bigger? Would it be similar to a grown man getting shot by a BB gun? The kind of pain that stings, but is manageable? Perhaps. But if God is also infinite, it would seem that the pain inflicted by a BB gun on a grown man wouldn’t be an accurate way to describe such a monumental disparity. Perhaps shooting an elephant with a BB gun is more appropriate? Maybe a rhinoceros with extremely thick-skin or a Tyrannosaurus Rex would suffice?

Perhaps you can see where this game will take us and why I said that eventually we will end up back at impassibility. When most people think of God as exhibiting emotions and suffering, they want to say that He does so in a profound way. But to say that the grief our sin causes in God is like a BB hitting an elephant doesn’t seem to be very profound at all. The “pain” the elephant feels by getting shot with a BB gun is more of a pesky nuisance, if he feels it at all. But do proponents of a suffering God want to think of the pain He feels as little more than a nuisance? A mere formality of suffering? Pain that doesn't hurt? God “feels” pain (but not really). Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge.

All these grammatical gymnastics used to support a view of literal suffering start to look a lot like figurative language. Of course you could always make the subject that’s getting shot by the BB gun smaller and more vulnerable to the pain, but should we really be comfortable with the implications of a smaller, more vulnerable God to make the subject-to-pain ratio of the illustration more to our liking? A growing number of modern theologians are, especially those associated with process-theology, Open Theism and liberation theology. With the rejection of impassibility comes the rejection of many other classically-held attributes of God. Immutability, omniscience, eternality and other divine characteristics have all fallen one by one like dominoes as modern theologians trade transcendent qualities in order to cram God into the shape of an emotional man.

Despite the logical contradictions, are we comfortable with the idea of the God we depend on for holding our very being in existence enduring, surviving or coping with anything? How can we be assured that He doesn’t also struggle with great pain in keeping the atoms in our bodies from spinning off into oblivion? Do we want a vulnerable God in charge of such cosmic responsibilities? Both vulnerability and emotions require weakness and potential for change – both things Christianity has traditionally rejected when speaking of God. Weakness and vulnerability makes for authentic, humble people, but when ascribed to deity, you're left with a divine soap opera right out of Greek mythology.

One of the reasons impassibility is such a good thing, the desired thing, is that it assures us that God will never stop pursuing our good. He is always willing and acting for our good and He never becomes weary of it despite the way we constantly run against the grain of His goodness toward evil, toward our own destruction. While critics tend to think the doctrine of impassibility renders God as a cold, lifeless, timeless, Stonehenge-like structure, this an unfair portrayal. Granted, allegories that paint accurate pictures of such transcendent realities are hard to come by but let me try to wrap up with a few that I’ve found to be particularly helpful. 
 

In contrast to a lifeless statue, God is more like a dynamic wind that always blows in the same direction, with the same force, toward the good – His and ours. In this allegory, you and I play the role of ships with sails unfurled. When, through our free wills, we turn the rudder of our lives in such a way that we move against the wind, we experience what seems to us as the violent anger, sadness, judgment, and jealousy of God as his goodness rips our sails to shreds thanks to our rebellious wills. However, when we turn our rudders in such a way that the wind fills our sails, we experience what seems to be the delight and pleasure of God as we move along united with Him on our way toward our own good. Ultimately, all of these emotive characteristics can be boiled down to either being unified with God as He moves toward the good or opposed to Him, the latter of which is a scary thing.

In an article in which he compares impassibility with it’s close cousin immutability, Gilles Emery makes the observation that “just as the affirmation of divine incomprehensibility is not to be equated with irrationality, so God’s immutability should not be thought of as inactivity; God acts by a voluntary impulsion from within rather than being swayed from without. (Divine Impassibility and the Mystery of Human Suffering, Keating and White, p.29)

God Doesn't Need You

One statement set me on my initial journey into the despair of impassibility and back again, and it happened in the first week of what would eventually become the best course I ever took in seminary. My profesor said, “The most important thing you can learn in this class is, God doesn’t need you.” And he didn’t mean that God doesn’t need us for     x     (fill in the blank) – for creation, for friendship, for... whatever. God simply doesn’t need us for anything – uncategorically! Wait a minute, how could God not need someone as awesome as me? Like the doctrine of impassibility, this statement seems cold and heartless, until you realize what implications this has for the nature of God’s love toward us. If God truly didn’t need us in any way, it means that He was perfectly content and happy within the divine relations of Trinity and yet... He still WANTED to create us. And it wasn't because it would bring God more glory because, as discussed, God is supremely glorious without us – He doesn't need us (or anything else) to be glorified. This great mystery of the sheer act of His will to create us flows purely out of His goodness and love. Do you see it? When God created us it was a completely gratuitous act of love! Completely excessive! A totally superfluous gift of Divine goodness that has been lavished upon us. Wow!

The same statement that scared me to death at the beginning of my journey is now something I cling to with a great deal of affection.  In Heaven we’re not going see a Being who’s dealt with His fear, overcome anxiety or grief. We are going to see God’s Being, the Beatific vision, pure, complete, joy and bliss! How can God truly love me if He can’t feel my pain? Because He’s going to get rid of it. It is not God who is moved by our suffering, rather it is that He loves us enough to move us to Himself, who is the end of our suffering!

So does God care about your suffering? So much so that He is going to give you Himself for eternity. Is He active concerning our suffering, yes! But He is not boo-hooing over it as He goes about His providential plans for bringing our suffering to an end. So the answer to suffering in the world is the happiness we will eventually have in God provided by the death and resurrection of Christ, our High Priest who can sympathize with our human weakness, the Man of Sorrows who suffered and suffered greatly.

All analogies limp, and this last one is not perfect either, but Paul Gavrilyuk, Professor at St. Thomas University in St. Paul, Minnesota provides a powerful allegory about the beauty of impassibility in his book, The Suffering of the Impassible God:

Consider the case of a house on fire. Several people are unable to exit the building and cry aloud desperately for help. Firemen have been called, but for some reason they do not come. A crowd is gathering around the house. Some stare at the house with a mixture of anxiety, fear, and curiosity. Some attempt to visualize as vividly as possible what the people who are in the house must be going through. These members of the crowd burst into tears, yell, tear their hair; in short, they are greatly emotionally affected. One of them has already had a fit and lies unconscious. Another has become mad and predicts the end of the world. Yet another person decides literally to suffer with those who are in the house and commits suicide by burning himself. Panic grows. A certain man from the crowd, without going through all the emotional pangs that those standing near him are experiencing, being motivated only by his conviction that the people will surely die if there is no one to help them, breaks into the house and, at great risk to his own safety, rescues them. If it is asked, who out of all the people that were present at the scene manifested genuine compassion, the answer is obvious. (p.10)

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY JESUS?

It's Christmas again, and tis' the season for Christians to remind the world that Jesus is the reason for said season. And though it might be politically incorrect, I really do think we need the reminder as we are all forced to wade through the candy cane bog of consumerism, greed and religious pluralism run-amuck.

However, amidst the flurry of sappy reminders on Facebook and Twitter, most of which are harmless, there are a few that, for whatever reason, have rubbed me the wrong way this year – particularly those that involve baking cakes and singing "Happy Birthday" to the second Person of the Trinity.

Now, before you label me a Scrooge (or worse), let me say that I realize that those who engage in this kind of celebration have the best intentions possible at heart. We share the common concern about the slide toward the genericisms of Happy Holidays, Season's Greetings Merry "X-mas" and all other neutered seasonal greetings. I too am grieved by the way that Santa Claus, reindeer, and snowmen (sorry… snow-persons) have replaced the Nativity scene as the iconic representation of this holy season. But I think what bothers me about baking Jesus a birthday cake and serenading Him with the same song we sing to 7 year old girls is something very similar to what bothers me about the slide toward secularism.

Christmas was never just about a birthday. How could it? No one even knows if Jesus was actually born on December 25th. Now, granted, the birth of our long-awaited Savior is included in the celebration of Christmas, but it is so much MORE than this! Christmas, at its heart, is about the Incarnation, the God Man, the Word becoming flesh – the most supremely beautiful mystery the world has has known! A completely unfathomable gift with the most far-reaching implications imaginable. Joy to the WORLD, indeed!

So why would I have a problem with celebrating such an amazing gift? Ah, but I would agree that we should celebrate! However, I would echo C.S. Lewis, who said, "Our Lord finds our desires not too strong but too weak." Baking a cake and singing Happy Birthday to Jesus is hard to reconcile with singing the words of my favorite Christmas hymn, "Fall on your knees! O hear the angel voices! O night divine!" It's like wearing a tuxedo T-shirt to a presidential ball or buying a Chili's gift card for the hero that risked life and limb to pull you out of a burning building. If Christians are not careful, our most sacred HOLI-days will go the way of "Christian" bumper stickers and t-shirts. At the end of the day, do we really think a birthday cake is befitting worship worthy of the King of kings and Lord of lords?

So, I guess I'm not saying it's a sin to bake Jesus a cake – more that it's tacky, inappropriate, and cheap. Given the eternal gravity of what Christmas entails for each and everyone of us, such a remembrance (though sincere), seems incomplete and inadequate. It reduces the Christmas miracle down to something common, VERY common in fact – an event that every single person on the planet experiences once a year, every year for their entire life. There are six billion birthdays every year, but there has only been ONE Incarnation… and that is truly something to celebrate!

Instead of relying on icing and candles, keep the true meaning of Christmas alive by reading the Christmas story to your kids. By living your life in a way that pays homage to the God who loved us so much that He sent His Son from the glory of heaven in humility to earth – making a way for us to be with Him forever. By steering clear of the rampant greed and gift-giving hysteria of our selfish society. Beware of the good distractions too. While it's great to give charitably and volunteer instead of gorging ourselves at gift orgies, Christmas is not about "giving" – not in a generic sense, anyway. It's about giving in a Divine sense, which should make us all want to give and serve our fellow man. Christmas is not "about the children," but the Incarnation should cause us all to wonder and awe like children at the grace of God. See W. David O. Taylor's collection of Advent devotionals (toward the end of his blog entry) as a great resource on how to keep Christ at the center of Christmas without resorting to tacky birthday celebrations. http://artspastor.blogspot.com/2011/12/hymn-poem-bunch-of-advent-devotionals.html

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Fall on your knees! O hear the angels' voices!

O night divine, O night when Christ was born;

O night divine, O night, O night Divine.

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5 POINTS OF CAUTION FOR MY REFORMED BROTHERS – THE NEW CALVINISTS

Someone once said, "Never judge an idea by its proponents." This is certainly valuable advice in light of the way so many people seem to form their opinions about Christianity based solely on extremist examples like hateful Westboro-types or ridiculous late-night televangelists. No matter what the camp or creed, there will always be extremists among us – those who take things beyond the intended scope of what was originally intended for good. But we must be careful not to automatically assume that the misguided fringes of any movement speak for the solid, more balanced majority. 

 However, there also comes a time when we must take stock of the situation, especially if certain people begin pressing their influence toward an unhealthy imbalance. The majority must always be aware of whether or not they are presently in the majority – indeed, if it is still a good thing to identify with the majority at all.

Before I get started, let me say that most of the things I address in this blog can be applied to almost every sect of Christianity in some way. But it just so happens that today I'd like to talk specifically to my friends within the circles of reformed theology – a tradition with a long history of rigorous Bible scholarship and sincere dedication to Christ. Over the past year or so, I've had the pleasure of much spirited dialogue with friends and acquaintances who approach the Christian faith from a newly-revived, distinctly Reformed/Calvinistic perspective. The movement I have in mind was recently dubbed by Time Magazine as "The New Calvinism." But I'm not a big fan of labels because people are often much too complex for labels to be useful. Reluctantly, I will be using a few labels in this blog but only as a naming convention to loosely identify who I'm talking to, or about. For this reason, it's important that I clarify the terms a little further.

John Piper says that, to be a part of this new movement within the reformed community is actually synonymous with affirming the tenets of Calvinism. But lest you confuse my intended audience, just because you might identify with certain aspects of Calvinism, it doesn't necessarily mean that you are a New or "Neo-Calvinist". In fact, as you read this, you might find that you enjoy and affirm the teaching of the men I’ll mention, but wouldn't consider yourself to be a part of some extreme movement, or any movement at all for that matter. If you're not sure you've even met a member of this movement, you might recognize them as the growing group of evangelical Christians promoting Reformed/Calvinistic theology in a much stronger, more fervent, more prescriptive, more intentional way than has been done in recent years – perhaps even in centuries.

Through this new appreciation of reformed doctrine, teachers like John Piper and Wayne Grudem have spearheaded a great modern reformation to correct many of the ills that have infected the church. Though the classic works of Calvin, Luther and Edwards are certainly worthy of study on their own merits, this recent surge of Neo-Calvinism was born primarily out of a reaction against the rampant relativism of our secular culture and the emergent church's growing de-emphasis on the importance of orthodox Christian doctrine over the past decade.

Undoubtedly, more corrective measures are in order to bring the church full-circle (and in some cases, even stern rebuke), but my worry is that, once again, many well-meaning believers have jumped on the vicious pendulum of reactionary tactics instead of forming a measured, thoughtful response that adequately addresses the real issues. What began as a initiative to rehabilitate the rubbery backbone of the church has snowballed into a divisive mob mentality as the vision from its inspiring leaders has trickled down to some who sit in the pew.

My intent today is not to debate the theological viability of reformed doctrine or the strengths and weaknesses of Calvinism. My concern is, rather, the extent to which some Neo-Calvinists have started applying their methodology in extreme, unsophisticated, militant ways – all under the banner of reformed theology. My only goal today is to humbly offer five points – five cautionary suggestions to my reformed friends, to chew on and prayerfully consider. These thoughts should be taken in a loose, general sense, not pushed to extremes or to the absolute exclusion of other important virtues. These are merely observations I've made with the hope that they will serve as reminders to help us find an appropriate balance between grace and justice; unity and diversity; truth and mystery – all distinctive hallmarks that should characterize the lives and beliefs of those who hold fast to the ancient Christian faith.

I offer these humbly as exhortations, not as accusations:


1). The fine line between having heroes and being an idolater.

A student at my seminary (who I'll leave anonymous) recently said, "I can't wait to be done with school so I can be the next Tim Keller. In fact, I only listen to Keller, Driscoll and Chandler."  Now, on the surface, I guess there's nothing really wrong here. Even Paul says that we should imitate him, but of course, as he imitates Christ (1Cor 11:1). Had the opportunity presented itself to me, I would have asked this person, "Have you ever expressed this weird man-crush to Tim Keller, Mark Driscoll or Matt Chandler?"  Because, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't be comfortable with it.

If you're the type of person who's doing good to read one or two books a year, then you would do well to read anything put out by the authors above (or feel free to plug in your own favorite reformed author: Mahaney, MacArthur, Sproul, etc.) On the other hand, doesn't this somewhat narrow way of thinking seem to trivialize the extremely rich and diverse storehouse of Christian thought that has accumulated over the past two thousand years – particularly during the period before the Reformation was even a twinkle in Martin Luther's eye.

It's one thing to be a fan of a certain style or tradition, but it's another thing entirely to be a groupie – and there's nothing sadder than being a groupie. Why? Because groupies pursue the object of their idolatrous obsession to the complete exclusion of all variety. They can't relate to people with different tastes, experiences or insights because they live in their own little world – and they like it that way. Groupies build creepy little shrines with candles, autographed concert tickets and tour t-shirts. But shrines are built by other kinds of groupies out of bookshelves, filled with a narrow range of authors, and an even narrower range of perspectives on theology, philosophy and history. People like this love to post an endless supply of chummy photographs taken with their favorite reformed celebrities as they tour the country on the church conference circuit. Will you autograph my ESV?

I'm not saying that Christians outside of reformed circles don't have celebrity idols of their own, but idol worship amongst New Calvinists is particularly ironic given the iconoclasm that came out of the Reformation in the 16th century. In an effort to rid the Catholic church of idols, centuries-old sculptures were toppled, ancient frescoes were plastered over with stark white walls, and irreplaceable paintings were ripped down and burned during riots led by overzealous fanatics with an axe to grind. This was another sad case of overcorrection that should have been handled differently. Instead, the church added yet another black eye to its impressive collection: the Crusades, the Inquisition and now this, a move that would ultimately alienate artists from the church for centuries.

Even the Bible itself has entered this discussion with the new and wildly popular ESV Study Bible, recently referred to as the "Elect" Standard Version by one Neo-Calvinist leader. He was obviously joking, but it is the thread of truth contained in the joke that makes it funny. However, it's when certain followers within the movement don't realize it's a joke that it becomes cause for concern. The translation really is great, but what are we to say about the growing “club" mentality starting to develop among some ESV users who look down in pity upon those still using the lowly NIV? The student I quoted above went on to say in the same discussion that he likes "the Calvinist 'bent' to the ESV translation" better than other versions of the biblical text. Really? Should we be comfortable with the text having ANY "bent" to it? I was under the impression that Bible translators should strive for a reading that most closely reflects the meaning of the original languages? Though it is certainly marketed to and preferred in reformed circles, I'm not sure that the ESV actually has a Calvinistic bent to it at all. But regardless, the fact that people are choosing a Bible based on this perception should concern everyone – just as much as those who choose the Spirit-filled Study Bible for its "bent" toward Pentecostal/Charismatic theology.

Two years ago on Thanksgiving Day, my pastor and friend, Matt Chandler, had a massive seizure caused by a large tumor silently growing in the right frontal lobe of his brain. Surgery to remove the tumor was immediately necessary and the prognosis looked grim. The story made headlines and the outpouring of support for Matt and our church was immense. Amidst an insanely busy speaking schedule and the responsibilities at his own church in Minneapolis, John Piper offered to come speak to our nervous congregation, grieving in the wake of this tragic news. Despite the leadership's plea to the public that this particular Sunday be reserved for the regular congregation struggling with the difficult reality affecting our beloved pastor, the place was overflowing with visitors that morning who had traveled from all over Texas just to see the leading voice of Neo-Calvinism.

After delivering an inspiring message, Dr. Piper actually made himself available for prayer and counseling alongside the other ministry staff at the front of the sanctuary. But what followed this impressive gesture of humility and concern absolutely turned my stomach. The second he stepped down from the platform, scores of people made a B-line straight for John Piper. I wanted to believe that these people simply had extremely difficult questions that they felt only he could answer. But in the midst of this somber moment, as people started puling out their camera-phones to record evidence of their brush with Neo-Calvinism's frontman, I wanted to vomit.

Now, don't get me wrong, this was not John Piper's intent. He graciously indulged his obnoxious followers in a low key, dignified way so as not to make a scene that would disturb the people who were actually praying to his left and right. But you could tell he was disappointed and uncomfortable with the mad rush that ensued after his offer to help. I want to think that most of the Piper-groupies snapping pictures for their Facebook wall that day were clueless visitors – but does it matter? The fact that so many people couldn't discern that this was obviously not the time or place for such behavior was quite disheartening.

The church mirrors the negative aspects of pop-culture in so many ways already, and sadly, this is also true when it comes to our pathological fascination with those who have power, influence and fame. We should be different. All of these men, for all of the great things they have done, have shortcomings – and yes, even when it comes to their doctrine. It's what it means to be fallible, and I think they would agree that it's unhealthy to put them (or anyone else) on a pedestal like this.


2). Uncomfortable with our Comfort
 
Perhaps the one new trend within the New Calvinist movement that worries me the most is the relative ease with which some of my reformed friends seem to hop up on the Great White Throne without considering the enormous magnitude of the place they are sitting – that is, in a seat reserved only for the one, holy and righteous Judge of the universe.

Scripture certainly tells us that we can know a tree by its fruit, but I have grown increasingly uncomfortable with how comfortable people are with pronouncing judgments of "saved" or "not saved" on certain individuals – particularly other prominent pastor/teachers. I'm not referring to the universal inclusivism recently made popular by the Rob Bell debate. I'm referring to judgments being made about one's salvation based on secondary, non-essential issues that have been debated within the church for thousands of years. There are good reasons that the early church councils spoke clearly about things like the Trinity and the deity of Christ, but chose not to come down on one side or the other of the Calvinism/Arminianism debate.

Accusations of heresy, "bad theology", apostasy and heterodoxy are handed out like parking tickets simply because a particular view isn't Calvinistic. However, even in cases of bona fide heresy, shouldn't we be a little less eager to dole out eternal death sentences to people for doctrinal errors, especially given their total depravity? I'm not saying that you can deny the deity of Christ and still call yourself a legitimate Christian, but should lines be drawn so quickly and decisively based on differing views on eternal security or limited atonement? I understand having personal suspicions about these matters, but is it wise to proclaim it publicly in books and blogs? Are we qualified to make such a bold call about someone's eternity? Lines must be drawn, I understand that. My concern is that we do it so thoughtlessly as to minimize the gravity of what we're saying.

We should get nervous when people start to suggest that 5-point (or even 7-point) Calvinism is a necessary condition for orthodoxy, or even worse, salvation. Was the thief on the cross a Calvinist? Is it conceivable to think that John and Charles Wesley are burning in hell because of their Arminian theology? What about Catholic theologians like Thomas Aquinas who provided the very bedrock for much of modern day systematic theology, Christian philosophy and apologetics? Will C.S. Lewis be forced to spend eternity with Satan and Screwtape because he thought the Calvinism/Arminianism debate was a false dilemma? New Calvinists would do well to learn from the Protestant iconoclasm before their zeal turns into a witch hunt directed at people instead of just paintings.


3). Let's not equate the Gospel with Calvinism

During a theological debate a few years ago, a friend of mine once proclaimed, "Calvinism IS the gospel!" Whoa... really? I completely understand being enamored with a particular theology or philosophy, especially one as systematic and well-thought out as Calvinism, but do we really want to equate the gospel itself with something that is as hotly debated as Calvinism? Does Calvinism have something say about the gospel? Well, sure it does. But so does Arminianism; so does dispensationalism; so does covenant theology. I think my friend has since softened his original position on this, but this extreme sentiment is still out there, though primarily among the most zealous and misguided diehards on the fringe of Neo-Calvinism – which is why I'm not going to spend a lot of time discussing it.

This kind of exclusive claim to the gospel should cause us just as much concern as if my friend had said, "Being Baptist IS Christianity!" I remember growing up around people who thought of themselves first as Baptists, Catholics or Methodists before thinking of themselves as Christians. I also remember thinking the way they prioritized these distinctions was quite odd. To equate a manmade denomination with the Christian faith itself, well, that would be a bit presumptuous to say the least – perhaps, even blasphemous. I think the same can be said about a particular manmade theology.

Most New Calvinists would never take so strong a position, formally. However, practically speaking, I think things have gotten a little out of balance. What is needed is a reminder that, when Jesus said, "the harvest is plenty but the workers are few," (Matt.9:37) He didn't mean that the Kingdom of God has a shortage of people defending and promoting Calvinism. Deep systematic theological training is an absolute necessity in the life of every believer, but let us not confuse this with the gospel. Calvinism may be good, but it's not THE good news.

I would also like to add here that, yes, many things truly are black and white. But there seems to be a tendency among some Neo-Calvinists toward reductionistic thinking in which everything is oversimplified – certainly not theologically – but evangelistically, apologetically, conversationally. "The word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart" (Heb.4:12) For this very reason we must handle the gospel skillfully, lest we end up cutting off our own limbs with a weapon designed to defeat the enemy.

Calvin and Luther disagreed when it came to certain non-essential theological issues. Mark Driscoll, Matt Chandler and John MacArthur don't agree on everything either. And guess what? Modern Neo-Calvinists don't agree with everything Calvin and Luther believed. It would do us well to remember this diversity of beliefs held amongst our heroes of the faith.


4). It's hard to be a good surgeon when you're wearing boxing gloves.

Without looking up from his chart, a doctor delivers his diagnosis to an unsuspecting patient who simply went in for a regular checkup, "Guess what? You've got a big fat brain tumor and you're going to die a slow painful death." The patient is shocked and can't comprehend the full weight of what the doctor just said, let alone the technical medical lingo he rattles off later as he tries to explain the reason why she's dying. Should the doctor candy-coat the truth? Should he lie and tell her that everything's going to be okay? Absolutely not! That would be unethical and downright cruel. But should he at least soften the blow with some concern in his voice? Should he show some compassion in the way that he delivers the bad news? Should he take into consideration the age, background and emotional state of his patient? I think the obvious answer is, yes! Can he also be firm? I think the best doctors have a combination of friendly bedside manner, sophisticated technical knowledge and a sober directness in their diagnoses – don't you?

Paul's presentation of the gospel was sophisticated, strategic and highly targeted toward specific audiences for the expressed purpose of making his presentation more persuasive (1Cor 9:19-23). This is not to be confused with sophistry or empty rhetoric used to emotionally hype up a crowd. No, Paul says he actually does it "for the sake of the gospel." The same goes for when he refuted heresies or addressed discipline issues within the church. He was firm, precise and unwavering, but he wasn't belligerent or combative. Paul said, "Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ… when each part is working properly, [it] makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love. (Eph.4:15-16)

Most Neo-Calvinsits I've met know the gospel very well, but often it's the ham-fisted way they present the gospel that is lacking. Most of the prominent leaders within this movement are extremely gifted communicators who don't really struggle with this problem, but there are some who seem to think that, as long as you recite the cold hard facts, the gospel has been proclaimed well. But there is something to be said about the way we say things. Even though we can be confident that we have the truth, this does not give us a license to be smug or arrogant in our presentation of the truth. It is more often the stench of our evangelical swagger that turns people off, than the truth itself.

Sometimes I'm tempted to think that Calvinism itself makes people act this way, in that they genuinely believe the persuasiveness and skill with which the gospel is presented doesn't really matter since it's all up to God anyway. But then I see men like R.C. Sproul and Matt Chandler, both strong Calvinists, take such great care with how they speak the uncompromised truth in a way that's actually mindful of (even sensitive to) the worldview their audience is filtering everything through.

Is it reasonable to expect an atheist to trust Christ as Lord when all he hears is "Trust the Bible, because the Bible says so!" How can one possibly trust the Bible if he doesn't even believe that God exists? I'm not advocating slick presentations that can somehow argue someone into heaven, but I get really frustrated when I see people handle the beauty of the gospel in such a clumsy fashion.

I wanted to offer a sample of one of the most abrasive voices within the New Calvinist movement that, up until now, did nothing but curl my toes every time I heard the man speak – Todd Friel, host of Wretched Radio. However, while doing research for this blog, I came across an interview he did with Tim Challies, yet another prominent voice within the movement. Though I typically have issues with the approach that both men take much of the time, I must say that I was pleasantly surprised to hear that they may be softening their attitudes and rhetoric a bit toward believers who wouldn't consider themselves any brand of Calvinist. I can only pray that this trend in grace continues. As a way of offering an olive branch and as a testimony to the possibility of change, I would encourage you to listen to the following link (after you finish my blog, of course). It is, quite frankly, something I never thought I would post when I started my research:

http://www.challies.com/writings/podcast/ck29-a-discussion-with-todd-friel


5). Paradox of Unity
Is there anything harder to achieve or maintain than unity? But is there anything more glorious this side of heaven? If you think about it, unity presupposes diversity. We don't say that Mt. Everest is "unified" because it's one huge solid piece of rock. No, it's just there – standing by itself. But we do attribute unity to songs and paintings and nations and groups of people. Why? Because when different pieces come together in a harmonious way, unity is created. Identical sounds result in monotone speeches. The use of one color results in indiscernible abstract art. People with identical mindsets result in cults and groupthink.

Like I said above, there are obviously times when the truth must be defended and lies exposed. There are times when wolves must be identified and the wayward rebuked. But this must be held in tension with Scripture's clear priority on unity within the body of Christ. One of the last prayers that Jesus prayed was, "I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me" (John 17:20,21). Paul talks extensively to the dysfunctional Corinthian church about how badly diversity is needed in order to have unity. Paradoxical? Or two sides of the same coin?