Tag Archives: Anthropology

A Trauma Survivor’s Advice for Surviving a Global Crisis

Our Wesleyan tradition holds a rich heritage of understanding the way the whole of our created being functions. We share a long history of encouraging one another to health and wholeness in every way, just as our God designed. We believe that we are responsible for the well-being of not just our souls, but our bodies and our minds as well, in line with the command to love the Lord our God with all that we are. Sometimes that becomes difficult in times of hardship, adversity, and trauma.

As a survivor of both extended childhood trauma as well as  intense crisis situations as an adult, including my time working as a crisis responder for a domestic violence agency, I have learned some things about the effect trauma has on my brain. In the years of healing I have engaged, I have learned some key truths about trauma and times of crisis. These have helped me during this year of incredible global turmoil and an astounding level of transition and crisis in my own personal life. I’m hopeful that the things I have learned on this journey can help others to care for themselves and others well in these challenging times. Here’s my best counsel for surviving times of crisis:

Now is not the time to make large decisions.

When you are going through a traumatic situation, your survival depends on being able to make the kind of in-the-moment decisions that ensure your short-term survival or well-being. Sometimes this is a necessary sacrifice to make, but sometimes our choices are not as limited as they seem when our survival-focused brain gets involved in the decision process. While your brain is focused on the crisis at hand, it is blind to other details that are critical to consider when making large decisions. Emotions also tend to become difficult to manage during times like these, and emotions can alter and even drive your decision-making process in ways that are less than ideal. Survival situations can make it very tempting to choose options that solve short-term problems but create much larger, long-term issues.

If you must make a big decision during this season, here are some tools for overcoming the shortfalls in your brain’s crisis response:

1. Take your time.

Give every large decision 24 hours at minimum to consider and pray about your decision. You need time to hear from God at the very least. It is harder to hear the more noise there is in your life, and crisis is loud. The bigger the decision, the longer you should deliberate about your choices. Besides, that gives God time to act! You wouldn’t believe how many problems He solves without our intervention.

Physiologically speaking, time gives your emotions time to calm down and gives those immediate-release adrenaline-related chemicals time to dissipate in your brain, leaving your thinking much clearer. You’ll be much better able to look at your situation objectively and see more of your options when you are calmer. Reactions are rarely helpful; responses are  needed. The difference between a reaction and a response is time.

2. Take a nap.

You cannot think clearly if you are hungry, tired, or stressed. Sometimes you can’t do anything about being stressed, so while you are observing suggestion number one above, take the time to give your body some good rest, good nutrition, drink some water, and take some time to release some stress before approaching your big decision. Nutrition, hydration, and rest will make all the difference in the world in your brain function, so it is going to drastically change your ability to make a sound decision.

3. Take a poll.

Involve as many people who are wise and trustworthy in your decision as you can. They can see things that you cannot. During a crisis, your brain will be hyper-focused on certain details, leaving you blind to others. Finding a broadened external viewpoint can be immensely helpful in making a sound decision, but you can’t achieve one on your own from inside your situation. You need other people for that. Besides, they may have access to or knowledge of solutions that you don’t. You can make up for the flaws in other people’s opinions by choosing a wider variety of people from several areas of your life to include in your decision. Just remember that ultimately, your decision is yours to make, and your inner circle should be supportive and loving, not controlling and manipulative.

Now is not the time for a New Year’s Resolution.

Hear me here. We are coming up on the end of the year, and January is closing in. I, for one, will be glad to see an end to 2020, but global apocalypse rarely observes the Gregorian calendar, such as it is.

Perhaps the most traumatizing part about being in a crisis situation is when you don’t know how long it will last.

Aside from the impending new year, how many of us have shamed ourselves for gaining the dreaded “Covid 20?” We have abused ourselves for everything from gaining a few pounds to being less productive at work and school. What’s worse is taking a fearful half-glance at the relapse and overdose rates for those struggling with addiction and the suicide rates for those struggling with severe mental illness.

The truth about the brain in trauma is that it will adopt any type of mechanism that is readily available in order to help you survive and cope with what is happening. A lot of these, we call “negative” coping mechanisms (think  substance abuse, promiscuity, gambling, risk-taking, cutting, etc, but also things like shopping, overeating, biting your nails, and other behaviors we use to make ourselves feel better when under stress). Some of these so-called “negative” coping mechanisms should never be engaged: I would never recommend that someone indulge a drug addiction in order to get through a crisis situation. Someone who relapses while in a crisis situation deserves support, treatment and love; relapse is very understandable, but obviously it would cause more damage than any good it could possibly do.

However, some of these less-than-ideal coping mechanisms don’t cause much damage. If biting your nails can help you get through a terrible year, then don’t beat yourself up for munching away. Bite your nails shamelessly if it helps. You can break that habit later when your situation and anxiety level are manageable. If you gained your Covid 20, love every inch of your fluffy self. You can hit the gym later when your energy isn’t devoted to getting through this. The same is true for all of you who, like me, were afraid to say that they actually lost weight during this pandemic due to stress and other factors! Regular exercise and nutrition are important, and they help during times of high stress. We have to remember, though, that gaining (or losing!) a few pounds is not something to beat yourself up about. Be as healthy as possible and love yourself while you are weak. Make space for yourself to be okay with being imperfect.

Now is the time to play.

You heard me right! In the midst of a crisis situation, the pattern we tend to follow is to pile all the work onto our shoulders and carry it as far as we can humanly go. We all have to pull from our reserves of strength from time to time and do what has to be done. Humanity’s history is full of people achieving the seemingly impossible in the face of great adversity. This is something we highly value as noble, and rightly so. However, we need to remember that trauma is caused by high levels of stress over extended periods of time.

In order to counteract and reduce the trauma your brain is taking in seasons of crisis, you actively need leisure. Leisure pursuits (hobbies and things we do to relax) allow our bodies to come out of that stressed state and begin to relieve those stress-related hormones, replacing them with the hormones that come from laughter, deep breathing, loving relationships, and relaxing or positively-stimulating pursuits. Leisure time will make your work time much more productive and will allow you to help your mental health through this crisis season.

Language About God: Interviewing Dr. Jackson Lashier

I first met Dr. Jackson Lashier when we were both seminary students. Unlike many of the students who were pursuing degrees to become local church pastors, he and I found ourselves in many of the same classes as we worked toward degrees that prepared us for ministries in academic contexts. At the time, I knew him to be thoughtful, bright, and adept in handling resources that sometimes felt remote across the vast stretches of centuries and also abstract in their presentation of concepts. For pastors or academics or laypeople, the combination of remote and abstract can seem forbidding; but Jackson’s strengths lend themselves to bringing the remote and abstract both near and accessible. He’s the kind of person who comes to mind when you want to talk about the language we use when we talk about God . How we speak about God matters, and his point of view and expertise are valuable resources in exploring why we speak about God, and how.

Jackson is now a theology professor; he is also a John Wesley Fellow, about which you can read more at A Foundation for Theological Education, here. He has a passion for connecting the historic doctrines of the church to everyday lives of Christians (see his short video on “Why Church History Matters for Discipleship”) and authored Irenaeus on the Trinity and numerous scholarly articles. Currently, he is Associate Professor of Religion and Chair of the Social Science Division at Southwestern College in Winfield, Kansas.

Initially we began this discussion before the pandemic hit, and I appreciate his sustained efforts through that upheaval. It’s a gift to welcome his insight today.

Elizabeth Glass Turner, Managing Editor

Wesleyan Accent: So – Americans talk about God, or describe God, in a lot of different ways. American Christians often share some commonality in the language we use about God, but even within Christianity there can be different emphases or language employed. Is there any point in trying to use common language about God, or does it matter how we speak about God? If so, why?

Dr. Jackson Lashier: I think the language we use when speaking about God or to God matters greatly. First, it reflects our beliefs about God. So to call God gracious or loving or simple or immutable or Father, to name a few common examples, is to reveal convictions about the nature of the particular God we worship that cannot be implied from the word “God” alone. Second, and related to this, when used in the liturgy or in a common place of worship, our language proclaims a shared understanding that both unifies us as the Church and marks us off from communities of other faiths.

Now, having a common language of God does not mean we must have a uniform language of God. So many times I hear in public prayer people using the same title or titles of God over and over again (“Father God,” for example, seems really popular among American evangelicals). There is nothing necessarily wrong with repeating the same titles, but this practice fails to engage the vast treasure of names and language for God provided for us by Scripture and tradition. Using names for God that we are not familiar with helps open our minds to other aspects of God’s nature that we can praise and think creatively about.

WA: In systematic theology classes, students delve into Trinitarian theology – that God is three in one, not just one God with three masks or not three Gods who are best friends. God is three persons, and often we use personal, relational language to attempt to convey that – language that is found in Scripture: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Yet Christians have also classically believed that God is spirit, which gives a different understanding of God than may be implied in the Trinitarian language which is exclusively male. Why might it be important to remember that Christians classically haven’t affirmed belief in what Marge Simpson called “Mr. Lord” or the common phrase “the old man in the sky”?

JL: I like your images, particularly the Marge Simpson reference, and I agree with you that assumptions that God is inherently male, even when we say otherwise with our qualifications, is a problem and skews our understanding of the nature of God. Because God is absolutely unique, completely unlike anything in creation (according to the basic distinction that God is the eternal Creator and everything else is contingent creation), our human language – even language used by Scripture – always falls short of fully encapsulating God.

Theological language is, as Thomas Aquinas taught, “analogical.” That is, it refers to God only by way of analogy. This is easy to grasp when we call God “a rock” or something of that sort, but it even holds true when we say that God is love. When we say that God is love, we mean that God is in some way like our human concept of love even though the love that is God’s nature transcends even the highest human examples of love. The analogical nature of our God language is crucial to keep us from bringing God to our human level and thereby to falsely and somewhat idolatrously assume the ability to completely know God in human terms.

This subject bears directly on the question of gendered language for God and male images of God that we seem to hold de facto. The Scriptures and the majority of church tradition use male titles for God (primarily Father and Son) as well as male pronouns for God. If we keep the analogical nature of theological language in mind, we can affirm that these male titles and pronouns demonstrate God’s personal and relational language (God is “Father” and “he” as opposed to an “it”). Yet we can affirm these titles without falling into the mistake of thinking that God is literally male. If we think that God is literally a male, we have failed to honor the transcendent nature of God, which, as your question rightly expressed, is affirmed in the Scriptural teaching that God is spirit.

WA: Some Christians seem to think, however, that in the Incarnation God becomes a man and so that affirms the inherent maleness of God and justifies our exclusive use of masculine titles and imagery. Does your argument here implicitly deny the reality of the Incarnation?

JL: Not at all. It is absolutely true, both historically and theologically, that at some point in history, God entered human experience and was born a man, Jesus of Nazareth. But to conclude from this that, as a whole, God is male, is to be extremely confused on our Trinitarian language. Scripture affirms not that God in total becomes human but that the Word or the Son (who the tradition will come to refer to as the Second Person) becomes truly human. The Father and the Spirit (who the tradition will come to refer to as the First and Third Persons) remain spirit, as you noted in a previous question. Moreover, the orthodox teaching of hypostatic union states clearly that Jesus’ human and divine natures exist in perfect union though remain unconfused and unmixed (indeed, certain authors like Julian of Norwich will refer to the Son as our Mother). So the incarnation in no way compels us to think of God as male. At the same time, we do not have to somehow deny the historical reality of the maleness of Jesus for fear of that reality making God male.

The path forward, then, is to remember the central teaching of the Trinity. It is not that God is male. It is that God is relational in God’s essence.

WA: Your use of the title “Mother” for the Son may sound odd to our modern ears. Despite numerous examples of very maternal, female imagery of God throughout Scripture, many Christians might think it arises from a theology of the Divine Feminine that isn’t rooted in classic Trinitarian theology. How can we walk a path in which we celebrate shared belief in the Trinity and value the Trinitarian formula – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – while affirming that while Jesus Christ experienced humanity in a male body, the Trinity is not inherently or eternally male?

JL: I think you’re right that many Christians have an immediate aversion to feminine language. I doubt whether there is a good reason behind it so much as the cumulative effect of using exclusively male language and thinking of God in exclusively male images. Indeed, it so forms our thinking about God that we cannot even recognize the many feminine images of God in Scripture —the mother hen, the woman who sweeps her floor looking for a coin, to name a couple off the top of my head. (Sometimes these images are wrongly dismissed by people who argue that God is not being “called” a feminine name [as God is called “Father”] but only compared to a feminine image; this argument makes no sense if we remember that all language and titles of God are analogical.) So for these reasons, we must reject the exclusive use of male imagery and language for God. However, for these same reasons, it is also insufficient to simply switch to using exclusively feminine language as I’ve seen some theologians and churches doing. Scripture reveals, and the tradition draws this out, that the transcendent and unique nature of God is neither male nor female but encompasses both male and female.

The path forward, then, is to remember the central teaching of the Trinity. It is not that God is male. It is that God is relational in God’s essence. Thus, God’s one nature is actually constituted by three “relations” or “persons.” This makes God eminently personable and that reality is more clearly expressed in relational titles like “Father” and “Son” than it is in titles like “spirit.” But “Mother,” for example, is also a relational name. And so I believe, along with Julian (and Gregory of Nazianzus and other Orthodox writers) that this title and other feminine titles can be used without sacrificing Trinitarian teaching in any way. Indeed, as I’ve argued elsewhere in print, I think “Mother” more faithfully retains the central Trinitarian realities than does reverting to “Creator,” “Redeemer,” and “Sustainer” often used today.

Of course pragmatically any new introduction of unfamiliar titles and imagery of God should be paired with preparation and teaching, so that congregations understand where they come from. But having said that, the use of titles like “Father” and male pronouns should also be explained better.

WA: You mention titles like Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer – in terms of how we speak about God, a popular means of representing the Trinitarian formula without relying on gendered titles. However, it seems that this formula reduces the persons of the Trinity from Scriptural ways in which they relate – Father, Son, Holy Spirit – to function, and what humanity experiences them doing. Is affirming personhood of “God in three persons, blessed Trinity” more essential than reconfiguring gender-specific language for the persons of the Trinity, even if that language had its origin in patriarchal societies?

JL: I believe in altering our language, attempts that guard against the misguided conclusion that God is literally male are admirable and needed. Nevertheless, I would answer yes to your question about this recent attempt. The formula “Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer” is simply an insufficient Trinitarian formula as it removes any inherent relational connection among the three persons that is the basis in traditional Trinitarian theology for maintaining the Oneness of the Three. Effectively, this formula implies a worship of three gods. Or, alternatively, the formula could be taken in a modalist sense, which means that the one God at one time creates, at another time redeems, and at still another time sustains. But here again, there is no eternal relation of persons. So, both conceptions are not fully Trinitarian. As I mentioned before, it is for this reason that I am much more comfortable with “Mother” language of the Divine because it maintains the essentially relational character of the Triune God. And while the tradition creatively engages such feminine language, it uniformly rejects such modalist or tri-theistic formulas.

Perhaps the most important principle is creativity with the wealth of images in Scripture. Encourage yourself to think of God using different images. 

WA: I’ve heard some theologians and pastors refer to the Holy Spirit as the “she” within the Trinity. What are your thoughts about this approach?

JL: Honestly, I don’t like it very much. For one thing, it seems to render the feminine aspect of God as secondary: masculine images still outnumber feminine images 2-1, so it seems to me there is not much to gain by this approach. But more problematically, this approach assumes that the persons of the Trinity are literally gendered. So it could be thought that Father and Son are literal male members of the Trinity, and Spirit—by virtue of not having a masculine title—is the female member of the Trinity. As we have discussed, all persons of the Trinity are fully God and together they are one God.

WA: If in God’s infinite transcendence as Creator, the nature of God encompasses male and female, then this impacts our understanding of what it means to be human, yes?

JL: So many implications. First and foremost is the question of the image of God as reflected in humanity. Genesis 1:27 clearly states that male and female are together created in the image of God. Because of the Adam and Eve story of Genesis 2, however, this primary anthropological teaching is often missed; some assume that only the man is created in the image of God, which of course undergirds all sorts of problematic teachings related to hierarchies in marriage and ministry. But male and female together created in the image of God makes sense if we think about God in the ways we have been discussing. It means that they are equal and that they need each other to fully reflect the image of God. This truth, it seems to me, grounds an egalitarian view of marriage and the full participation of women in ministry. Another implication is that humans are inherently communal creatures. This does not mean, of course, that everyone needs to be married; it does mean that everyone needs to be in human community to realize fully who they were created to be. We can’t be good disciples and be solitary.

WA: Pragmatically, I’m reminded of a time I read a description of someone’s expectation that God’s voice would sound like Morgan Freeman or Sean Connery. Both made me smile, yet I was startled by my internal response: what if God’s voice sounded like Cate Blanchett’s character, Galadriel? This funny, simple thought reminded me of the importance of how we conceive of God when we pray. What are some important principles that should shape our imagination when we pray or talk to God?

JL: This is such an important question and really gets at the heart of what is at stake in this question. It is clear that if we reduce our images to masculine ones, then we will likely fall into the trap of thinking of God as male. Perhaps the most important principle is creativity with the wealth of images in Scripture. Encourage yourself to think of God using different images. At one point, imagine God as the Father of the prodigal son running to embrace you. At another time, imagine God as the mother hen who enfolds you in her wings.

The great monastic theologian, Dionysius the Areopagite, encouraged his readers to focus their imaginations on comparisons of God to inanimate objects precisely because there is less danger mistakenly thinking that God is literally a rock, for example, than there in thinking God is literally a Father. Ultimately, every Christian must explore images that resonate. But in general, Scripture and tradition allow for more freedom and creativity here then people often allow themselves.

WA: When it comes to drawing from Scripture and tradition, do you think people of faith can affirm the value of believing that God – out of the Divine nature of holy love – really reveals the very real, actual nature of God? That our language isn’t just a Rorschach test in which we make God everything we think God should look like? At the same time, is there space to acknowledge that sometimes we think about God or speak about God in ways that are incomplete or less rich than they might be?

JL: Great questions that have been wrestled with for centuries. I agree there is a danger here, which is why I think we are wise in our creative imaginings to remain within the range of images provided by Scripture and developed by tradition. Thankfully, there is more than enough there to occupy our imagination in prayer and worship; we have just scratched the surface in our engagement with these treasures.

In answering your broader question about the tension between knowing the revealed God vs the mystery of God, I follow the Western tradition as represented by Thomas Aquinas, as opposed to the Eastern tradition as represented by Dionysius or, more recently, theologians like Vladimir Lossky. The Eastern tradition has generally said that God in God’s essence is unknowable, so the only way we can really speak of God is to say what God is not. This is the so-called “negative” approach or apophatic theology. From it we have derived such important concepts as God’s eternality (God is not limited by time boundaries), God’s simplicity (God does not have parts), and God’s immutability (God is not changeable). I understand the impetus behind this apophatic tradition and see its value, though I move away from it precisely because of your point that God has revealed Godself to us.

The Western tradition has generally been more positive in its approach, so-called cataphatic theology. It affirms that we can speak of God positively, such that when we say God is good or God is love or God is Father, we mean something like what we know of as “good” or as “love” or as a good “father.” Personally, this way helps me connect better with God through prayer and thought. It seems consistent with the Incarnate movement of God to bring Godself to our level.

Yet as we mentioned in our discussion of analogical language, even this way of doing theology insists that we cannot fully know the essence of God: God is infinitely more loving and more good than even our highest human notions. So while we can know God truly and authentically through God’s revelation to us in Christ and as recorded by Holy Scripture, we can never know God fully and comprehensively. Incidentally, this means that eternal life will be spent growing deeper and deeper into the knowledge of God’s essence. I don’t know about you, but that sounds a lot more compelling then singing “Open the Eyes of My Heart Lord” over and over for eternity!

Edgar Bazan ~ Racism & Bias: We All Suffer

For 400 years, through slavery, lynching, Jim Crow laws, the Civil Rights movement, and institutionalized racism, people of color (especially within the Black community) have been fighting and crying out for justice and equality. Justice is sought because they have been oppressed and abused for centuries; equality, because that is the underlying cause of their unjust treatment: they have been seen and treated as lesser humans because of the color of their skin.

I am a Mexican-American immigrant, and although my experience is not the same as Black Americans’ experiences, on some levels I can relate to the viciousness shown them. It is not uncommon to hear stories of people like me who have been told to, “go back to Mexico.” As upsetting as I find this, it makes me sad, for it reflects the failure of a society to nurture individuals that treat one another with respect and dignity.

As a pastor who serves a diverse and bilingual community, I will speak to these dynamics of prejudice that are persistently based on race, language, and economic and education levels. In all of this, the pervasive reality is that some people are inclined to judge others based on external factors. These judgments come with labels, and these labels add or subtract value to people.

For example, it is not unusual when I meet new people and introduce myself as a pastor, that they say: “so you are the associate pastor of the Hispanic church.” I am not offended by the Hispanic label, of course; however, the underlying problem is the assumption that because I am Hispanic, I must be the Hispanic associate pastor serving people like me. To put this in context, how often do we hear about white pastors, “so you are the white pastor for the white people”? Most likely never.

I invite you to explore the implications of this. Labels carry value (or lack thereof), and those at the top usually do not have the same labels – often they are the ones who assign them to others. Bias is not always a loud offense; sometimes it has the form of rather subtle but heavy weight to keep people “in their place” — often assigned by those in positions of influence.

These acts and attitudes have pained and oppressed many people of color over the years — centuries — and it breaks God’s heart, for it is sinful: a way in which we fall short of the glory of God.

So what does the Bible say about racism and bias?

In Genesis 1:26, we find the following statement that gives us a theological framework from which to address racism: “Then God said, ‘Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness…’” This scripture teaches us that God created every human being in God’s image. Every person measures the same amount of the glory of God in themselves. There is no distinction nor differences in the worth between one person or another. Whether one is white, black, brown, God loves all the same. In the Incarnation, God became flesh, embracing all colors, races, and ethnicities that make up the human race.

Racism, however, denies the image of God in humankind. It seeks to destroy God’s likeness in every person, both in those who invite and ignore racism, and in those who are the recipients of it, repudiating what God created and the way God created it. Therefore, the Bible teaches us that racism is incompatible with Christian teaching; it is sinful, for it denies the image of God in others and oppresses those who are the object of God’s self-giving love. Ultimately, it leads to the violation and denial of human rights, of justice, and of inherent human sacred worth.

Now, bias on the other hand, is a more subtle form that still leads to oppression. The apostle James makes a compelling case explaining bias and cautioning against it. In James 2:9, we read, “But if you show partiality [or bias], you commit sin and are convicted by the law as transgressors.” James was addressing an issue of showing special treatment to a particular person or persons based on their social standing. He illustrates this with a hypothetical scenario where two men come into a church gathering: one is rich and given the best seat in the house; the other is poor and asked to stand away or sit on the floor. The rich man is given privileges because of his wealth, but the poor man is despised because of his poverty. Such treatment, James says, is evil.

Although James addresses a particular issue of class discrimination, the principle helps us to address any and all other practices of bias, including those based on race. (It was not long ago that people of color could not sit on the front seats of a bus in America.) In many ways, this reality resembles a “caste system” in which hierarchical structures communicate to subjects, “you are not all equal,” and, “here is your label and place.” This has caused profound generational suffering and loss, including economic, cultural, and identity devastation for people of color and marginalized groups.

Many Americans would be appalled to think that such blatant partiality or bias that mirrors a “caste system” could exist in a country founded on the premise that, “all are created equal” and that, “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” is a right for all people — the American Dream. Nevertheless, even as this nation of ours may create more economic opportunities for people than any other place, we continue to have deeply embedded unfair policies and attitudes, like “redlining.” There are policies that are discriminatory, unfair, and inconsistently applied, when rule of law and distribution of community resource give preferential treatment to some people over others.

Most of these harmful practices reflect a subtle yet hostile and derogatory way in which some people are communicated to be more of a liability, or more valuable, than others. This stigmatization wears on people emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. But if someone is spared these additional burdens, because of the sound of their name or the color of their skin, they don’t realize that they don’t have to prove themselves in the same way to get ahead in life, even if they’re born into poverty or other serious trauma, while others may have those struggles but also bear the additional burden of race-based bias and prejudice.

Have you ever observed how someone who is not white is often questioned about their capacity to accomplish a task? And if they do accomplish it, they are seen as an exception? The tragedy is that this is normalized and internalized by both sides: “we are more” and “we are less.” As a pastor, it breaks my heart when I hear young people begin to accept the labels and positions assigned to them, whether it is because of the color of their skin or their socio-economic status. It is heartbreaking to hear them settle for less than they dream, for less than they are capable of accomplishing as individuals, because their abilities, intelligence, or character are constantly questioned.  These mental and emotional chains are heavy. To treat people in such a way is a terrible sin that plagued the early church and has continued to plague the church and society at large in every generation.

The apostle Paul, in talking about prejudice and favoritism in the church, wrote that, “If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it” (1 Corinthians 12:26). Paul makes a compelling case about undermining the giftedness and value of people in our communities. By doing so, he says, we harm each other.

By now, I hope there is little doubt that we are called to face the pain, abuse, and oppression of a segment of our community that has been affected by racism and bias — “if one suffers, we all suffer together.” Not only that: the work towards eradicating unjust practices of racism and bias must be a top priority for followers of Jesus, not at all because of political affiliation or preferences, but because of our compelling faith in Jesus Christ, which is what James wrote: “because of your faith, you should not play favoritism but treat everyone as fellow brother and sister.”

My prayer is that the principle of “loving our neighbor as we love ourselves” will guide us (Matthew 22:39). Just as we care about our own needs, feelings, and desires, we must show the same care for the needs, feelings, and desires of others. So how can we foster and nurture communities (at church, home, work, school) where anyone is welcomed, respected, and treated with dignity?

We don’t need to have all the answers; we simply need to start asking the right questions from a place of compassion.

Featured image is an interior photo from the Don Bosco church in Brasilia, capital of Brazil. Photo credit: Vladimir Soares on Unsplash.

Brian Yeich ~ What Providence Looks Like

At times it seems that people who come from Wesleyan Methodist backgrounds have an “arm’s length” relationship with the idea of providence. At its most basic level, providence is the activity of God working out God’s redemptive plans for his creation. It’s God working out a rescue plan for creation, and the idea that God is working behind the scenes without our involvement or cooperation is a bit unnerving to Wesleyan sensibilities. For after all, aren’t we the people who believe in cooperating grace (that is, that there is a degree of cooperation we engage in when it comes to God’s saving work)? We are the movement that emphasizes human free will and our ability to choose or reject the gift of grace that God offers. “Providence” just sounds too much like those Reformed or Calvinist folks, we think. But if we take a closer look, we see that the founder of our movement, John Wesley, had a very robust understanding of divine providence. So, what are we to think about providence as Wesleyans?

Let’s describe what providence is not. Providence does not mean that we have no free will. God’s providence does not rule out human freedom. Providence is not opposed to cooperation with God. Providence does not mean we are “off the hook” or that we have no sense of responsibility when it comes to spiritual growth. Rather, we cooperate with God as we grow in our faith by practicing spiritual disciplines, or the “means of grace.”

So, what is providence?

Providence is at the heart of Christian theology. Christians throughout the ages, although there have been exceptions, have affirmed that God is not simply a clockmaker who put the universe into motion and has since left it unattended to its own ends. Rather, providence affirms that God is working behind the scenes, sometimes imperceptibly, but working nevertheless. Drawing on centuries of Christian understanding, the late theologian Thomas Oden defined providence as, “the expression of the divine will, power, and goodness through which the Creator preserves creatures, cooperates with what is coming to pass through their actions, and guides creatures in their long-range purposes.”[1] Providence is both evidence of God’s love for his creation as well as his sovereignty.

John Wesley had strong convictions regarding God’s providence. With his both/and approach, Wesley shared great insights into the nature of God and into the life of the Christian disciple through the lens of providence. In his sermon, On Providence, Wesley urged, “There is scarce any doctrine in the whole compass of revelation, which is of deeper importance than this. And, at the same time, there is scarce any that is so little regarded, and perhaps so little understood.”[2]

While Christian thinkers for centuries affirmed God’s omniscience and omnipresence, Wesley acknowledged that our limited human understanding has trouble grasping the concept of God’s providential nature. Wesley emphasized that we should be humbled by the fact that God, infinite in wisdom and power, is yet concerned with his creation’s wellbeing. Wesley pointed out that while with God all things are possible, “He that can do all things else cannot deny himself.”[3] While it is within God’s power to destroy all sin and evil in the world, for instance, this would contradict God’s nature. Particularly, this would contradict the fact that humanity was created in God’s own image. However, Wesley clarified, this is where the providence of God enters into the equation. While God allows human beings to choose between good and evil, God’s providence is a work, “to assist man [sic] in attaining the end of his being, in working out his own salvation, so far as it can be done without compulsion, without over-ruling his liberty.”  Wesley envisions God’s providence operating in a “three-fold circle” within creation.[4]

First, Wesley observed, the whole universe is governed by God, including the movements of the sun, moon and stars as well as animal life. Beyond this governance, Wesley describes three circles of God’s providence. The first of the three circles encompasses all of humanity. Within this circle, God’s providence works in the world… The second circle includes “all that profess to believe in Christ.”[5] Within this circle, God is at work… The final and innermost circle, encompasses, “real Christians, those that worship God, not in form only, but in spirit and in truth. Herein are comprised all that love God, or, at least, truly fear God and work righteousness; all in whom is the mind which was in Christ, and who walk as Christ also walked.”[6] (Interestingly, Wesley argued that it is within this circle that Luke 12:7 is realized: “Why, even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not; you are of more value than many sparrows.”[7] He commented, “Nothing relative to these is too great, nothing too little, for his attention.”[8] While God is concerned for all of his creation, Wesley believed that the Lord gives special attention to those who are fully devoted followers of Jesus.)

Throughout his writings including his journal and letters, Wesley noted on many occasions the “train of providences” that God worked in particular situations. He often ascribes additional descriptive words like, “uncommon,” “various,” “wonderful,” and “whole” to further describe these instances in which Wesley observed the hand of God at work in the lives of Christians. He emphasized that while God has established general laws that govern the universe, God is free to, “make exceptions to them, whensoever he pleases.” [9] For Wesley, God’s care for creation and especially for human beings is not hindered by the laws of the universe.

In the conclusion of his sermon, Wesley encourages Christians to put their full trust in the Lord and to not fear. God’s providence means that we can trust him even when it seems that our world or the whole world is falling apart. He does not deny that we will face challenges and sorrows, but that we should walk humbly before God and trust that “God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.”[10] The Christian’s hope is in the Lord who not only governs the universe but also cares particularly for those who follow God. He knows the number of hairs on our heads. No detail escapes his attention. God’s providence gives us hope for both our present and our future. It’s not a matter of just saying that “everything happens for a reason,” for God is not the source of evil or chaos. However, we can trust that behind it all, God is at work. It does not mean that everything will go well for us, but it does mean that God is with us every step of the way. Perhaps that was the motivation of John Wesley on his deathbed when he uttered the words, “The best of all, God is with us.”[11]


[1] Oden, Thomas C. Classic Christianity: A Systematic Theology. HarperCollins. Kindle Edition.

[2] John Wesley, “On Divine Providence” (1786), in The Works of John Wesley, ed. Thomas Jackson, 14 vols.,(Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 2007), 6:315; hereafter cited as Works (Jackson).

[3] Ibid. p. 317.

[4] This idea is from Thomas Crane, A Prospect of Divine Providence which Wesley included in his Christian Library.

[5] Ibid., p. 319

[6] Ibid., p. 319

[7] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version, (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016).

[8] Ibid., p. 320

[9] Ibid., p. 322.

[10] Romans 8:28. The Holy Bible: English Standard Version, (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016).

[11] Ken Collins, John Wesley: A Theological Journey, (Nashville, TN: Abindgon Press, 2003), p, 268.

Andy Stoddard ~ The Gift of Brokenness

I’m a pretty happy and optimistic guy.  I tend to believe the best of other people, and by and large, I expect things to work out alright.  I take Romans 8:28 literally and seriously – God will somehow work out things for good.

I tend to be an optimistic and grace-full preacher.  I believe in hell, but I’m not a hellfire preacher. I tend to think that grace is a greater motivator to faithfulness than fear is. I have always taken Paul’s words in Romans 2:4 to heart with my preaching: “Or do you despise the riches of his kindness and forbearance and patience? Do you not realize that God’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance?” I like to leave people with a pep in their step on Sunday morning.  I like to leave them with grace on their lips. I want them to enter into the world hopeful, peaceful, and more focused on Jesus than on their sin. 

Except for Lent. 

In Lent, yes, we need to know that we are loved.  But there is something else we need to know. We need to know this – we are sinful.  We are broken. We are fallen. We are ashes, and to ashes we will return.

We can’t run from this.  No matter how powerful, wealthy, famous, or holy we are, we are ashes.  No matter how great of an influencer on social media we are, we are ashes. No matter how big a church we are part of, we are ashes.  We are ashes. We are broken. We are sinful.

And you know what? 

This realization of brokenness is one of the greatest gifts we can ever receive.  Lent is a powerful and beautiful reminder of the gift of that realization. Once we receive this gift, we can truly live.  This realization gives us several life-changing truths.

First, brokenness is equality.  We are all the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve.  We all inherit original sin. In our age, we like to talk more about “sins” than our “sinful nature.” Sins are things we do (what I jokingly call smoking, drinking, and cussing).  In our minds, there is always someone worse than us. Yeah, we’ve messed up, but look at them.  They are much worse than we can ever be. 

If we look at our brokenness in terms of sin, then there are stratifications. There are better and worse than’s.  But that is not how we are called to look at it. We are all sinful. It isn’t just that we have all messed up, but it is that we all have a broken, sinful nature. We all desire that which is sinful.  You, me, our moms and dads, our preachers and bishops, all of us. We are all “sinful.” Jesus didn’t just come to forgive for our sins; he came to free us and restore us. When Adam and Eve fell, our nature was corrupted. That affects every last one of us.  Charles Wesley put it this way in his great hymn Love Divine:

Take away our bent to sinning;

Alpha and Omega be

We all have that “bent to sinning.”  Everyone one of us. All of us. You are sinful.You are broken. You are. Yes. You. Me.  All of us.

But here is the joy: that truth doesn’t make you the scum of the earth.  It makes you human. We are all broken. We are all sinful. We are all frail.

There is equality in our brokenness.  We all stand equal before God, no matter what. We are all broken. That makes us all equal, no matter what.

Second, brokenness is clarity.  If we ever, ever, ever really understand our brokenness, then we have the ability to see ourselves as we really are.  Broken and in need of a Savior. When we understand that, then healing can really begin.

One of the best books I’ve ever read is The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning. If you’ve not read it, you need to stop what you are doing, go and buy it, and read it. In this book, he deals with our need for grace and the reckless God who gives us grace, unearned. Listen to what he writes:

At Sunday worship, as in every dimension of our existence, many of us pretend to believe we are sinners. Consequently all we can do is pretend to believe we have been forgiven. As a result, our whole spiritual life is pseudo-repentance and pseudo-bliss.

This clarity – you are sinful, I am too – when we realize that, when we truly know that we are sinful, then we are able to clearly see how amazing God’s grace is.  God knows the worst about us and loves us anyway. Our brokenness gives us clarity to see ourselves as we are, and to see just how much God truly loves us. 

Finally, brokenness is opportunity.  When we know our brokenness, as well as God’s great love for us, in spite of it all, we have an opportunity – an opportunity to be remade, reformed, reborn.  We go from being the Pharisees thankful that we are not tax collectors to the tax collector simply thankful for God’s love.

Understanding our brokenness allows us to truly reveal and marvel in God’s grace.  Understanding our brokenness puts on the path of recovery, the path of wholeness, the path of holiness. This path that understands it’s not about our morality and getting it right, but it’s about our humility and submission to Jesus and following Jesus. 

Our brokenness is our opportunity to be truly faithful.

This Lent, you are sinful.  You are imperfect. You are broken.  So am I. May we take this realization as a means of grace. And may we allow ourselves to be recreated into the people that God is calling us to be.  We are equal in brokenness, we are equally in grace. May this gift make us whole.

Elizabeth Glass Turner ~ Steps for Small Church Revitalization

Most churches aren’t big.

Most churches say they want to grow.

Many pastors hope to serve at big or growing churches. Most pastors won’t.

It’s simply a matter of numbers in the United States: there aren’t that many megachurches. If you happen to be the pastor of one, you can sell a lot of books to pastors who want to get from here to there, even though – and this matters, stop multitasking and read this – the skill set for revitalizing a small church is very different from the skill set for growing a church from large to blockbuster ultra mega church. It’s like the difference between working for a small local struggling but beloved business vs being hired as a new executive for Microsoft.

I’ve actually been the pastor of a small church, so in that sense, I’m more of an expert than a person who has only been in staff positions or senior pastor positions of medium to large congregations. In fact, I was part-time, the church was located in a rural area in a small town that had been dying economically since the highway bypassed it, and it was my first church.

So what went right? (I could tell you stories of what went wrong and the specific razor-sharp edges of my own learning curves, but your time is valuable so we’ll save those for a rainy day.)

What went right at the little frontier church that will never be a blockbuster ultra mega church?

Several things: While I was there (three years), we made major property improvements and repairs, expanded Sunday morning discipleship opportunities, updated safety policies and procedures, added new members, engaged in new and different modes of outreach prior to what had been practiced previously, and I baptized (immersed, United Methodists – I immersed, by request) three teenagers who wanted to show their faith. And I only alienated one elderly woman, who stopped coming but forgave me in the end and requested I preach her funeral sermon (a big step, allowing me the definitive last word).

But why did it go right (except for the stories of what went wrong that we’re saving for a rainy day)?

I think these are helpful principles for any pastor of a small church (usually defined by being under 100 members, but my congregation was less than 50).

First, honestly assess your goal. If your goal is to become blockbuster ultra mega church, it needs retooling. First, because that’s really not what Christ called you to or why you got into ministry, and second, it’s statistically very unlikely. But if your goal is to faithfully worship and witness in your unique community to bring about its transformation, that, we can work with.

My tiny town had zero grocery stores and over ten churches. We couldn’t “compete” with the big prominent church on the edge of town (nor, might I remind you, are we called to). So what were the specific needs of our town, what were the specific passions and gifts of our church members, and how might they converge? When you have a limited budget and limited pool of (usually tired, burned out) volunteers, it is vital you keep harping on the truth that you are not called to be everything or do everything but to be something and to do something.

Second, be a missionary. Many pastors have favorite programs or approaches they like to put in place, and they cart those around like the boxes of books from seminary that they move from town to town. The problem is that especially with small towns and small congregations, many of those program ideas simply won’t fit or, just as bad, they disappear as soon as the new pastor comes with her or his ideas of How To Be Awesome the Biblical But Relevant But Inexpensive Way. It’s not good for the health of a congregation to constantly be adopting new but short-lived programming. The church will be there after you go, and you’re there to help invest in its long-term well-being…right?

Instead, utilize a basic missiological or anthropological perspective. The first year, you’re there as a learner, an observer, noting the basic community calendar, the prominence of the local school, big regional events, vacation and travel patterns, long-standing church activities, deeply held values and practices, etc. This was in starker contrast for me because I’d grown up in a completely different part of the country in a very different regional culture. I didn’t know anything about ranching, growing cotton, rodeos, kolaches, or bluebonnets. But if I wanted to serve (there’s that word again) the people in my spiritual care, then it was my job to watch, listen, and learn.

It doesn’t matter what your local context is – you may live in a small Pacific northwest fishing town or a California tech town or a Michigan hunting town or an Ohio manufacturing town or a Georgia peach-growing town or a New England lobstering town. The point is, notice it: what’s unique? Do most people work locally or commute to a bigger city? Is there a festival everyone leaves town for? What are most of the arrests in your county related to? Is there a problem in your town with stray animals, or high suicide rates at the local high school, or funding for a new wing of the hospital?

Because this is where your congregation’s giftedness and interest will intersect with your community. So let the town’s culture and the congregation’s personality guide you, not the latest program ideas from a pastor with a staff of a dozen working in a completely different region.

Third, work on your preaching skills. There’s a practical reason for this. Smaller churches have less programming throughout the week. Sunday mornings are the one time everyone gets together. It’s your chance to help keep vision and encouragement front and center; it’s your chance to help even out uneven preaching from the past (small churches are accustomed to taking whomever the Bishop appoints or whomever they can afford, and the quality of preaching that came before you might have left some huge gaps).

I’m not advocating personality-driven ministry, but whether you follow the lectionary or prepare a sermon series, keep preaching front and center in the way you spend your time. Record yourself with video or audio so you can note habits you haven’t been aware of. Listen to really good preachers – here’s a great example – and note how they approach the text, how they use illustrations or examples, how they pace their sermon, and what the takeaway is. You don’t have to mimic their style (and always cite or credit your content), but if you could focus on just one thing to improve about your verbal and nonverbal public communication, what would it be?

A couple of additional notes: Ministry is hard, no matter what size your congregation is. There will be good days and bad days. You need prayer partners if you’re in ministry, whether you’re serving in Zimbabwe or Chicago or Kansas. From the moment you begin as a church’s pastor, you need a couple of friends or family members or ideally both who you can email with occasional updates about ministry life and things pressing on your heart.

Also, and this is hard-won experience (though it helps if you’re a pastor’s kid), learn to discern whether a church is depressed, dysfunctional, or toxic. A depressed church can slowly and gently regain hope, vision, and purpose. A dysfunctional church can slowly and gently regain equilibrium, health, and momentum. A toxic church will be very difficult to survive, and in those very rare cases, be faithful, then move on.

And hey – you’re doing great. The ministry you’re doing is valuable. It’s making a difference. You’re not alone. And yes, there may be a dog under your church giving birth to puppies during worship service. But that’s something that blockbuster ultra mega pastor will never get to say.

Cole Bodkin ~ Review: Silence Unbroken

The Hero’s Journey

American mythologist Joseph Campbell (1904-1987) was renowned for his ability to compare ostensibly opposing worldviews, philosophies, and religions through the lens of mythology. What Campbell discovered was that the human experience could be reduced down to a single concept: the “monomyth.” In other words, all human traditions have an archetypal pattern with thousands of variations, which basically tell the same story: the hero’s journey.1

The hero’s journey involves as many as 17 stages and centers on a man or woman who goes on an adventure, is confronted with a crisis or resistance inevitably resulting in a decisive battle, and ensuing victory, which forever changes the hero(ine). At the conclusion of the hero’s journey, the audience is charged—through the power of the tale’s rhetoric—and implicitly beckoned to pursue their own personal quest. Once applying his method to various stories, movies, and books, one sees the merit of Campbell’s work and how the monomyth accurately portrays much of the common human experience.

And we Americans? We love the hero’s journey. We starve for it. It’s all around us. It’s part of the very fabric of our society. We are drawn to it, sing, it, celebrate it, and deep down in the inner recesses of our hearts, we ultimately want to be a hero.

 

Journey and Resistance

In Martin Scorsese’s recent film Silence, based on the novel by Shusaku Endo, Father Rodrigues learns that his mentor, Father Ferreira, has allegedly committed the egregious sin of apostasy. Though Christian persecution was pervasive in 17th century Japan in which the novel is set, Rodrigues and Garupe, Ferreira’s other mentee, could not possibly conceive of any scenario where their mentor could commit such an act of infidelity. Hence, they must depart immediately on their quest to investigate and (dis)prove any legitimacy of these claims.

Upon arriving in Japan, Father Rodrigues and Garupe realize that the persecution against Christians is much more severe than they had ever imagined. Yet, this will not stop our hero(es). The tandem duo is surreptitiously brought into a village full of Christians to whom they immediately minister in secret. At this point, we begin to notice that their mission—to recover or disprove the alleged news regarding Ferreira—is slightly modified and expanded: to tend to a desperate flock. To be sure, much is to be commended for their care amongst the despairing congregation; however, once the heat turns up, and the antagonist, The Inquisitor, discovers subversive Christian life in this village, a realization begins to surface: our hero’s quest has become extremely complicated and convoluted, and he has some cracks in his armor.

Without spoiling too much, I contend that characters in the biblical text begin to emerge in Rodrigues’ imagination: Pilate (the Inquisitor), Judas (Kichijiro), and Jesus (Rodrigues). Our hero develops a complex and compares his struggles and hardships with those of Christ. Without a doubt, trying to be like Jesus isn’t a bad thing. Imitatio Christi is good – yet we have limitation in our imitation. There are some things that were only intended for Jesus to undertake (e.g., die for the sins of the world). As Silence unfolds, Rodrigues’ romanticized illusion of martyrdom intensifies. Is he really the savior of this flock? Is he on a mission or a conquest?2

 

Wabi-Sabi 3

Legend has it that an aspiring disciple of the Way of the Tea, Sen no Rikyu, sought the tutelage of a tea-master, Takeeno Joo. First lesson? Tend the garden. Rikyu, with delicate precision, presented an immaculate garden before the tea master, but not before shaking a cherry tree, resulting in the perfect garden being scattered with a few random leaves.

In the 15th century an aesthetic and worldview in Japan began to manifest. Rikyu was revered as one who embodied its very essence. Wabi-sabi originated as a reaction against the popular lavish depictions of beauty in art at that time. In contrast to predominant forms of the day, wabi-sabi emphasized imperfection, impermanence, finitude, and authenticity.

A contemporary example might help us to understand. In the recent TV show The Man in the High Castle, there is an entire episode in which Nobusuke Tagomi (Trade Minister of the Pacific States) repairs a broken white coffee mug. We’d probably expect him to use some sort of white lacquer to distract any attention from previous cracks; however, he doesn’t do that. Instead, Tagomi uses what looks like a gold lacquer to highlight the imperfections (which is very wabi-sabi of Tagomi).

In Silence Rodrigues’ romantic vision of Christianity is one that exists as if there are no cracks. Filled by lofty propositional truths, and a God on a high and mighty throne, Rodrigues does his best to muster up strength to remain faultless. Continuing up the path of the hero, he repeatedly fails to recognize the cracks in his armor.

 

The Way of the Saint 4

Not all literary gurus agree that Campbell’s analysis of the monomyth—an all-encompassing existential metanarrative with variegated threads—is entirely accurate. In lieu of the monomyth, Frank J. Ambrosio has argued there are actually two paradigms: the way of the hero and the way of the saint. Whereas the hero is on the path towards the goal of achieving self-fulfillment and glorious honor, the saint is guided by love and a responsibility towards the other and one’s community. Both the hero and the saint are on the same quest—the meaning of life—but arrive at two different conclusions.

 

From Hero to Saint? (SPOILER)

At the dénouement of Silence, Rodrigues is brought face to face with his mentor, the alleged apostate Ferreira. Up to this point, Rodrigues had witnessed multiple Japanese Christians suffer torturous conditions and death. Doubt is at a fever pitch. Rodrigues even tells some of his flock to step on the fumi-e (image of Jesus) to escape this unbearable situation; our hero, however, would not concede.

Reminiscent of a stubborn athlete, our hero will not budge. And just like a coach (or person in charge) disciplining the stubborn player, by making the whole team suffer for the one who thinks they are in the right – paining the player to no end – likewise, the Inquisitor causes the village to suffer because of Rodrigues’ refusal to recant.

But the confrontation with Ferreira proves a formidable challenge. Despite Rodrigues’ stalwart attempts, Ferreira appears to be a goner.

Or is he? The once-priest tells him Japan is a swamp. The gospel will not take root in this land. The “Christians” there aren’t really Christians but syncretists (an aside which raises a host of questions regarding contextualization).

Later that night, our hero is presented with the greatest challenge. After complaining about the loud snoring, Rodrigues is informed that the sound is actually coming from the suffering of other Japanese Christians. This is the breaking point, and the most controversial scene in the movie. Ferreira invites Rodrigues to engage in the hardest act of love he will ever face—to trample the fumi-e—and thus end the torture. As declared by his opponents throughout, he is assured it will only be a “formality.”

A fumi-e tile, or “stepping-on picture,” shown to suspected Christians in 17th century Japan. This piece has been on display in Nagasaki.

As Rodrigues gazes upon the fumi-e, the silence is unbroken. The voice of Jesus whispers, “Go ahead now. It’s all right. Step on me. I understand your pain. I was born into this world to share men’s pain. I carried this cross for your pain. Your life is with me now. Step.”

And so in deep despair, Rodrigues relinquishes the pursuit of victory – the hero’s journey— and accepts defeat for the sake of love. He steps on the fumi-e. Rodrigues undergoes a Christian version of wabi-sabi; through weakness, his armor is cracked and filled by the power of Christ. Effectually, he participates in the death of Christ, and begins his journey anew toward the way of the saint.

Or maybe that is my hope? I desire that in the end Rodrigues was faithful despite what appears to be apostasy. Could it have been just a matter of formality? What even is apostasy? Is it just a declaration, an assent? What about being a functional apostate in the day-to-day without publicizing it? Could it be just an example of “alternative facts”?

There are so many questions raised by this film, and ultimately I think what we desire is resolution and certitude. But only one thing is certain to me in this film (as I suspect in the book): it’s a shroud of mystery. The world of Silence isn’t clear-cut black and white, but full of grey and confusion. Maybe Rodrigues was a hero, a saint, or both?

The conclusion of the movie remains murky. One of the more heartbreaking consequences is that our (ex)hero-saint must spend the rest of his life exiled in Japan without the fellowship of other believers (even this statement can be scrutinized, for I suspect that a touching reunion and reconciliation with Kichijiro (“Judas”) in the final scene may suggest otherwise). With few exceptions, God ultimately calls, gathers, and sends Christians out together as the communion of the saints, not in isolation.

My one-year-old daughter and I try to walk to the park whenever it’s warm enough to go see the ducks at the pond. Yesterday we saw an aberration. After visiting the pond almost daily for the past three weeks, we saw a stranger to these parts: the heron. Sticking out like a sore thumb, this majestic bird immediately grabbed the attention of my daughter, but this time she didn’t say, “duck.” She knew it was different and mysterious. As we observed for a few minutes, we noticed that although the ducks, geese, and heron inhabited the same pond, it was clear that the heron wasn’t welcomed. A few geese even hissed at it. Staring quietly as mere bystanders, we watched the heron remain by itself, all alone, in the marshy-like terrain, and in that moment I was reminded of Rodrigues.

 

 

Viewer discretion advised. This film is rated R for violent content.

Click here to watch a conversation with Martin Scorsese on faith and film recently hosted by Fuller Theological Seminary.

 

  1. I first heard this concept from Pastor/Author, Tim Suttle: https://vimeo.com/133293651
  2. This blog was helpful in identifying these themes: https://contrarianravings.wordpress.com/2017/01/05/i-was-not-silent-i-suffered-beside-you/
  3. See J.R. Briggs Fail (Kindle location 1905)
  4. Suttle, ibid.

Andy Stoddard ~ How to Get A Good Name

I really do love the book of Proverbs.  There’s just some really good stuff within this great book: wisdom that can help us live our lives in ways that are just so powerful and so good.

Ways that are just so true.  Listen to what we are told today in Proverbs 21: 1-2:

1 A good name is to be chosen rather than great riches,
and favor is better than silver or gold.
2 The rich and the poor have this in common:
the Lord is the maker of them all.

In this passage, we see what is truly priceless in the world.  Not power or wealth or status, but this.  A good name.  It is better than anything else you can have in all the world.

A good name is not for sale.  A good name doesn’t come from ill-gotten gain.  A good name speaks to who we are as people.  A good name is one of the few things that really does matter.

But how do we get a good name?  Verse two tells us.

We see in verse two where our worth comes from.  It comes from this fact: God is our maker.  He is the maker of the rich.  He is the maker of the poor.  He is the maker of us all.

Everyone matters.  Everyone is important.  Everyone is made in God’s image.  And Jesus died for everyone.

You have never met an unimportant person.  You have never met what C.S. Lewis calls a “mere mortal.”

There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilization—these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit—immortal horrors or everlasting splendors… Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses.

God is the maker of us all.  Everyone matters.  Treat everyone like they are that sacred.  Because they are.  Treat everyone with the worth that they have. That’s how you get a priceless treasure.  That’s how you get a good name.

Aaron Perry ~ Do We Create Ourselves? What It Means to Be Human

The global West’s current fundamental battle of narratives is whether or not there is a context to being human. The Christian (and Jewish) narrative, of course, affirms a theological context: human beings are made in God’s image. The conflicting contemporary narrative, growing with uncritical acceptance, is the denial of God’s image—or any image. Instead, this competing narrative argues that human beings invent their own image. The only context that exists for being human is that there is no preceding context for being human.[1] Not biology, not theology, not genetics.

This open context is what sets humans apart: in order to be human, one must be able to invent what it means for one to be human. Even more, it seems: the greater the reinvention, the greater the humanity ascribed to the one doing the self-inventing. The lionization of euthanasia as the final courageous act; the mixture of sympathy with sadness for the one who chooses suicide; the trumpeting of Choice! in the abortion debate all affirm that one’s ability to invent his or her own life—what it means for them to be human—is of ultimate importance. Even if the choice being made is not widely understood, we see value in the person being able to decide for themselves. It also means that if one is very young, very old, or very sick—and hence without the power to (re-)make oneself, then their purchase on being human may not be worth as much as it once was (or would be, given time).

This is not a battle of narratives in which one may tell and let-tell. No, these are competing narratives. And they are at war. The activity of the hard left, meant to empower the person to act without restrictions, necessarily curtails all forms of authority—parental, governmental, ecclesial—so that the individual may flourish. This is a fundamentally atheistic theology: in order for there to be an authority in the individual to select their own human-making image, there must be the death of any and all outside authorities. Sartre’s legacy lives on!

With this in mind it is clear to see why, in the postmodern world, there is a rejection of, or at least decreasing interest in, the afterlife. Since death is the end of one’s human life, then it is the end of one’s ability to invent him- or herself. If there is life-after-death, then there is a greater context than simply one’s absolute autonomy. Note the dilemma: If there is an afterlife, then the self is not free to invent their own image (because death has not been the end of the self); if there is no afterlife, however, then the self may be free to invent the self, but without eternal meaning. In the face of this dilemma emerges the Facebook selfie with the caption, “YOLO!” (You Only Live Once).

The reinvention of human beings in light of sexuality provides the clearest example. Bondage. Submission. Power. Flesh. Sacrifice. The words are as powerful today as when John Wesley was using them with frequency, but for something radically different.

Wesley used the words to describe humanity’s fallen state, death in sin, and inability to love God and others. Wesley saw submission to God as the way to freedom from bondage, and the sacrifice of one’s fleshly desires as the way true power. Today, however, submission, bondage, and flesh do less to describe the spiritual life and more to describe one’s sexual desires. The stronger drive is not to rid oneself of inappropriate desires, but to find ways such desires can be fostered in secret and/or with willing participants.

We have modified the Kantian ethic that we should never treat people as means and always as ends, by adding a short rider: People should never be treated as means and always as ends, unless they desire to be a means. Human beings ought not to be means to ends unless they so choose. People can choose to be means if that is their way of being human. There is no moral guideline but the affirmation that one can choose their own context for being human so long as it does not impede another’s context—unless an outside impediment is the context they want. (Take a moment, listen to Hozier’s “Take Me to Church” and you will hear what I mean. I’ve also written about it here.)

In the face of these developments, we can turn to Wesley. Specifically, we turn to Wesley’s critique of reason.[2] One of the critiques Wesley leveled against reason was that reason could not produce faith. By this critique Wesley meant that reason cannot produce a firm conviction in or understanding of the invisible world. He suggests his readers put reason to the test, urging them to try reason out for this purpose: see if reason can produce a conviction of the unseen!

Perhaps Mr. Wesley would urge a similar undertaking for those attempting to understand or invent a human being without theological context: see if human reason alone produces faith—a conviction or understanding that claims purchase for the whole of reality. In the face of this challenge to stretch the bounds of reason, though, Wesley offers this caution: “You may repress [your doubts] for a season. But how quickly they will rally again, and attack you with redoubled violence!”[3] No less stunning and incisive a critique today than it was in the 18th century, personal satisfaction took the brunt of Wesley’s challenge. He knew where to challenge the worldview of his contemporaries and we can alter it to our current context: Even if biology no longer presents a context for being human, one’s personal satisfaction, lived out over time, just might. How poignant, then, the observation of comedian Louis CK: “Everything’s amazing right now and nobody’s happy.”[4]

At this point let me offer a “perhaps.” Perhaps the reason for the current anthropological narrative equivalent to Burger King’s “Have it your way” campaign is the fact that it deals with suffering and with guilt. First, this narrative handily dismisses guilt. If one is empowered to choose for him- or herself then people with power may hold others less and less responsible for their own happiness. Every man and woman has become an island, equipped with internet, cable television, Facebook, and, just in case, Ashley Madison. On this island, no one else bears responsibility for another’s self-fulfillment. Where there is power for one’s own self-action, there is also absolution for any sin. I am not responsible to another if they have the power of self-creation. Any failure to thrive is the other’s burden. After all, they have the power to create their own context and I bear no responsibility to them. As such, when there is equal power, there is no such thing as guilt.

Second, perhaps this narrative is appealing because it helps human beings to understand suffering. Always a challenge in the Christian worldview of the omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent God, suffering remains a challenge in the atheistic worldview. But it is not a rational challenge. There is nothing incoherent about suffering in a world without God. Instead, it is an existential challenge. In this worldview, as we have seen, death is not necessarily our enemy but the confirmation that the self is one’s own standard of authority. But if death is not the enemy, then what is? Suffering. Death is not the final enemy to be overcome, as it was for Saint Paul; no death is the final and necessary validation for inventing one’s own context—and ending it as one pleases. In the unexpected reconciliation between human beings and death, suffering has emerged as the universal enemy. And so we must help people out of any and all forms of suffering because suffering threatens the human image, unless, of course, suffering is chosen to be the context one chooses. Suffering, unless chosen, must be avoided.

Yet here we see an opportunity for Christian witness. In a culture concerned with the pragmatics of its studies—how do I avoid suffering?—the articulation of a Christian anthropology—human beings are made in the image of God and happy is the one who fosters this image—will be ineffective in witness in the short term but effective in the long term as people see a Christian anthropology lived out. Remember that it is by witnessing the death of Jesus that the Roman centurion becomes the first human in Mark’s Gospel to confess that Jesus is the Son of God. Suffering is not to be avoided. No, it is a sign of endurance—and one of the greatest manifestations of the image of the long suffering God. Anglican theologian Oliver O’Donovan captures it precisely: “Suffering is not a failure or degradation of [a human]…; it is an endurance of affliction, and the good of [humanity] displayed through endurance, too.”[5]

Suffering is not the enemy, but it is a sign of an enemy. So, do Christians ignore and forget those in suffering? No, of course not. Christians recognize that some suffering simply cannot be alleviated without rejecting the theological context of being made in God’s image. As such, the rationale, and parameters, for the alleviation of suffering is different. Christians minister to the suffering one not because suffering threatens the identity which they would take for themselves, but because humans beings are made in God’s image and are never lost from this royal position outside their own permission. Where suffering can be alleviated without denying this context, then it is, in part, a living out the image of God—a symbolic, imperfect, incomplete expression of the God who heals. Where suffering cannot be alleviated without denying this context, then there is reaffirmation that the one suffering remains made in God’s image.

The Western world is currently taking up Wesley’s challenge of using reason to demolish any and all barriers to the context of being human. In due time it will see how well (or poorly) this narrative works. And gradually there will be a decline in this narrative because it will fail. As we await this failure, Christians must maintain and practice a Christian anthropology. We must continue to tell the story that there is a context for being human. We are not made in the image of our choosing, but in God’s glorious image.

We can only tell this story as we live it. Christian anthropology is lived out through lifelong testimony of enduring suffering and patiently, symbolically, and lovingly ministering to those who are suffering. This narrative will only be effective over time because there really is a context to being human. The world is not looking for yet another story to make them happier; it is looking for a story that will hold true when all other stories have fallen apart.

 

[1] Stanley Hauerwas calls this the project of Modernity, with a typical memorable Hauerwasian phrase, that I have adapted: “[People] should have no story except the story that they choose when they had no story.” http://www.abc.net.au/religion/articles/2013/07/02/3794561.htm.  Accessed Sept 8., 2015.

[2] John Wesley, “The Case of Reason Impartially Considered.” http://wesley.nnu.edu/john-wesley/the-sermons-of-john-wesley-1872-edition/sermon-70-the-case-of-reason-impartially-considered/. Accessed September 8, 2015. I am indebted to Chuck Gutenson for turning me to this line of thinking.

[3] Ibid.

[4] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uEY58fiSK8E

[5] Oliver O’Donovan, Finding and Seeking, Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, p. 91.

 

Matt Douglass ~ The End Is the Beginning, but Better: A Biblical Argument for Animal Resurrection

In a previous post, I argued that if God is perfectly loving, then at least some animals would be resurrected in heaven—namely, those creatures whose life-ruining suffering was never redeemed during their earthly lives.  Here, I will give a Scriptural argument for animal resurrection, focusing on the beginning and end of the grand biblical narrative, specifically the creation stories of Genesis 1 and 2, the flood narrative of Genesis 6-9, and the promise of final restoration and renewal as described in Romans 8 and Revelation 21-22. In a nutshell, the argument goes like this:  Animals are featured prominently in Genesis 1-9.  They are, therefore, a significant part of God’s plan for creation.  And, according to Romans 8 and Revelation 21-22, God plans to restore and renew all things, presumably animals as well.  Thus, just as humans can hope for the redemption of their bodies through resurrection, there is good reason to hope that animals will be resurrected as well.

Creation and Re-creation:  Genesis 1-9 The Bible begins with a hymn in which God establishes a kingdom[1]:  God commands all things into existences, bestows names and titles, draws boundaries and establishes domains, and assigns various functions to created things.  Humans occupy the top of this earthly hierarchy.  They are created in God’s image and are given dominion over the earth and over all living things.  Yet animals are important as well.  Along with humans, they are blessed and commanded to “be fruitful and multiply” and to fill creation.

The world of Genesis 1 is orderly and peaceful.  Originally, there was no struggle for survival, no competition among species, and apparently no predation: “And to every beast of the earth, and to every bird of the air, and to everything that creeps on the earth, everything that has the breath of life, I have given every green plant for food” (Genesis 1:30). Animals are also prominent in Genesis 2:4-25, where, like Adam, they are created from the dust as potential helpers for him.  Adam gives names to each of the animals and rules over them, though the Bible repeats that Adam is not given their flesh to eat, but is instead limited to the fruits of the garden (Gen. 2:15-17). After just two chapters of peace and harmony, the biblical narrative takes a sharp dive in Genesis 3.  Adam and Eve, who were supposed to care for Eden and all creatures in it, instead are disobedient and submit the whole world to a curse.   Things get progressively worse until, by the time of Noah, the world is so corrupted that God regrets ever creating humanity. On the surface, the flood story illustrates God’s mercy toward Noah’s family and (a select group of) the animal kingdom in the midst of divine judgment.

But reading carefully, we see that Genesis 6-9 both reflects back on creation and foreshadows the new heavens and new earth. Notice, for instance, how the flood narrative imitates the style of Genesis 1 and draws a clear contrast between them.  Originally, everything in creation is as it should be—the refrain “and God saw that it was good” is repeated seven times in Genesis 1 (on the seventh time, “God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good.”)  Compare that to the beginning of the flood story: “The Lord saw that the wickedness of humankind was great in the earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of their hearts was only evil continually.” (Gen. 6:5)  Again, Genesis 6:11-12 says, “Now the earth was corrupt in God’s sight, and the earth was filled with violence.  And God saw that the earth was corrupt; for all flesh had corrupted its ways upon the earth.” The deluge, furthermore, represents a reversal of God’s creative activities.  On the second and third days of creation, God separates the waters, holding them back with the dome of the sky and with dry ground.  But once Noah is safe in the ark, God allows the waters to return, and “on that day all the fountains of the great deep burst forth, and the windows of the heavens were opened.” (Gen. 7:11) Next, God creates all over again.  The waters recede, once again leaving the sky and dry ground.  God brings forth living creatures from the ark to creep across the ground and fly through the air.  And just like the first time, God blesses humans, commanding them to “be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth,” and gives Noah’s family dominion over all creatures.

Finally, God establishes a new covenant with Noah, his future descendants, “and with every living creature that is with you, the birds, the domestic animals, and every animal of the earth with you, as many as came out of the ark,” promising never to curse the ground because of humanity and never to destroy the world again by flood. (Gen. 8:20-22; 9:8-17) In effect, when Noah leaves the ark, he’s entering a new heaven and a new earth—a world that is like Eden, but diminished:   Whereas Adam and Eve were innocent and unashamed of their nakedness, Noah’s family is still stained by sin, and Noah’s nakedness is now a cause for shame.  And while there was originally peace among the animals, the violence that infected the animal kingdom after Adam and Eve’s sin—competition, predation, and so on—is still present.  Moreover, Noah is allowed to eat meat, and the fear of humanity now afflicts all of the animals.

At the same time, however, while the great deluge is a means of destruction and re-creation, notice that it is not a complete destruction, nor a complete re-creation.  God could have utterly annihilated the old creation and spoken an entirely new world into existence.  But instead, God chose to fashion his new earth from the remains of the old one. This point is significant because several prophecies use the flood as a foretaste of God’s ultimate plan for the world.  In Hosea, for example, God’s promise to restore peace to Israel echoes the covenant established with Noah: “In that day I will make a covenant for them with the beasts of the field, the birds in the sky and the creatures that move along the ground.  Bow and sword and battle I will abolish from the land, so that all may lie down in safety.”[2]  Meanwhile, Peter predicts that just as “the world of that time was deluged with water and perished…the present heavens and earth have been reserved for fire,” which will set the heavens ablaze and melt the elements (2 Peter 3:6-7, 3:10-12). “But,” he continues, “in accordance with his promise, we wait for new heavens and a new earth, where righteousness is at home” (2 Peter 3:13).

Consummation: Romans 8 and Revelation 21-22 According to Scripture, then, the post-deluge world is like Eden, but diminished; in contrast, the new heavens and new earth will be like Eden, but elevated.  Paul’s letter to the Romans paints this picture beautifully:

 I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. (Romans 8:18-25)

This passage continues a line of reasoning begun in Romans 5, where Paul says that “we boast in our sufferings” because they produce endurance, character, and hope (5:2-4).  The cause for this hope, he continues, is Christ, through whom the righteous have been justified, reconciled to God, and freed from sin.  Whereas Adam’s sin introduced death into the world and enslaved humanity to sin, Christ’s death and resurrection bring life, freedom, and ultimately adoption into God’s family.  In the passage quoted above, Paul ties together these themes and extends them to the created world: We should have hope and wait patiently for the redemption of our bodies because all of creation waits in eager anticipation, both for its own redemption and for God’s children to be revealed.[3]  In other words, since God’s plan from the beginning has been to redeem creation (“creation was subjected to futility…in hope that [it] will be set free”), we can be sure that God will bring this plan to completion.

Similarly, in Revelation God is the Alpha and Omega, the creator of the universe and its perfecter.  The consummation of all things is described in Revelation 21: Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.” And the one who was seated on the throne said, “See, I am making all things new.” (Rev. 21:1-5a)

Like Romans 8, Revelation brings us back to Genesis.  John’s description of the new heaven and new earth draws from the prophecy of Isaiah, in which God promises to end the futility and misery of the present world, bring joy to his people and dwell with them, and establish peace, even among the animals.[4]  Revelation 22 makes an explicit connection to Genesis 2: Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city. On either side of the river is the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, producing its fruit each month; and the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. (Revelation 22:1-2) While a single tree of life grew in Eden, the new Jerusalem has several trees of life lining its central river.

The clear implication is that the holy city will be like Eden, but much better.[5] Noting how Revelation 22 merges the temple imagery of Ezekiel 47 with the garden imagery of Genesis 2-3, G. K. Beale argues that the new Jerusalem is a “paradisal city-temple” that encompasses the whole earth.  According to Beale, the Jewish temple was a microcosmic model of creation, and “the Garden of Eden was the archetypal temple in which the first man worshipped God.”[6]  So Adam was the first priest of God’s temple, and his task was to subdue the earth and extend the boundaries of Eden until it covered the whole earth.  Beale continues, This meant that the presence of God, which was initially limited to Eden, was to be extended throughout the whole earth. What Adam failed to do, Revelation pictures Christ as finally having done.  The Edenic imagery beginning in Rev. 22:1 reflects an intention to show that the building of the temple, which began in Genesis 2, will be completed in Christ and his people and will encompass the whole new creation.[7] Full Circle From the above texts, we can take three important points:

  1. When Scripture talks about the end times, it often alludes to the creation and fall stories of Genesis 1-3.

An underlying message in these passages is that the end will be like the beginning, but even better. For example, in his epistle to the Romans, Paul argues that because of Adam’s sin, all of creation is in bondage to death and decay.  In Romans 8, he gives us reason to hope:  Freedom from sin and suffering comes through Christ, not just for humanity, but for all of creation.  What Adam has bound, Christ will set free. Similarly, in John’s apocalypse (which draws heavily from the Edenic prophecies of Isaiah and Ezekiel), the new heavens and new earth is a cosmic do-over: where Adam failed in the beginning, Christ will succeed in the end.

  1. Other end-time prophecies use the flood narrative as a foretaste of God’s ultimate plan for the world.

For example, recall the prophecy of Hosea 2:18, which echoes God’s covenant with Noah and the beasts, as well as 2 Peter’s prediction that the new heavens and earth will be born, not from the destructive waters of a flood, but from an all-consuming and transforming fire.  In other words, while the post-deluge world is like Eden, but diminished, the new heaven and earth to come will be like Eden, but exceedingly greater.

  1. Animals are an essential part of the creation and flood stories.

From Genesis 1-9 we learn about God’s power and authority and goodness, about humanity’s relationship with God and our place in the hierarchy of creation, and about humanity’s relationship with other living things. According to Genesis 1-9, animals are not an afterthought; they are not simply an embellishment of an already beautiful creation.  Rather, animals integral to God’s original plan for creation.  Indeed, they are so important that God delivers some of the animals through the flood so that he can use them to repopulate the new world.  It stands to reason, then, that God will use the same animals from this world to populate the next. To this point, I have given two arguments for animal resurrection, one philosophical and one biblical.  Perhaps neither one, by itself, is totally convincing, but when taken together, they begin to make a strong case.  In a later post (or two), I will add two more arguments, one that focuses on the relationship between humans and animals and one based on the scope and effectiveness of Christ’s atonement and resurrection.

[1] Sandra Richter explores these themes in a pair of excellent videos, “Reading Genesis 1 in Context.” (Part I and Part II)

[2] Hosea 2:18.  The New Testament authors, and subsequent Christian theologians, typically interpreted Old Testament eschatological prophecies as being inaugurated with Christ and brought to completion in the end times.   Accordingly, it is common to interpret such prophecies about “Israel” as including the church and all of the righteous.

[3] There is some question about exactly what “the whole creation” refers to.  Wesley’s translation of 8:19-22 says “the creature,” which he interprets as “every creature” and “the meaner creatures”—that is, to non-human animals (see “The General Deliverance”, II.2).  The NRSV, however, reads “the whole creation,” which I interpret as referring to all of material creation, living and non-living.  Either way, Paul’s hope extends at least to the animals, for in this passage Paul seems to have Genesis 2-3 in mind, which describes the animals as an important part of creation.

[4]“For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind.  But be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating; for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy, and its people as a delight. I will rejoice in Jerusalem, and delight in my people; no more shall the sound of weeping be heard in it, or the cry of distress…The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox; but the serpent—its food shall be dust!” (Isaiah 65:17-19, 25).  Notice the reference to the serpent’s deceit in Eden, suggesting that the new Jerusalem will reverse the effects of Adam’s sin.

[5] For more on this, see Mitchell Glenn Reddish, Revelation, Smyth & Helwys Bible Commentary (Macon, Ga: Smyth & Helwys Pub, 2001), 421.

[6] G. K Beale, The Book of Revelation: A Commentary on the Greek Text (Grand Rapids, Mich.; Carlisle, Cumbria: W.B. Eerdmans ; Paternoster Press, 1999), 1110.   See also Sandra Richter’s Seven Minute Seminary video, “Genesis 2 and the Ancient Near East,” which touches on this Eden-as-cosmic-temple theme.

[7] Beale, Revelation: A Commentary, 1111.