We are Deeper than the Depth of Our Sin

I became passionately upset as I was reading over Demarest and Lewis' Integrative Theology and the favored explanation of a high-Calvinist stance on election. Many of you have heard this innumerable times before, but for those of you who are wondering what the hell I just said (as if anyone reads or even knows about this thing), high-Calvinism basically states that God both chose people for salvation before the foundation of the world and then, during these folks' time on earth, He also calls them to salvation. If you weren't chosen from before there was time, you're out of luck. This is an age-old debate, at least from the time of Augustine, but I have some questions, some of which I've never heard before, that I'm gonna throw out there:

1. If God's love is expressed in an irresistible form, how can this be called 'love'? In life on Earth, when is love ever irresistible? We all nod our heads in agreement when we hear someone claim that if you love someone, you have to let them go. Granted, this is simply a popular adage, but is it not also a simple expression of what we all recognize love to be in its deepest, truest sense? In his book, The Risk of Love, W.H. Vanstone characterizes Godly love as possessing three essential characteristics: limitlessness, vulnerability, and precariousness (risk). The God portrayed in the above view of election possesses none of these. If the picture of love painted here is even partially accurate, then the God of high-Calvinism is expressing a love that runs wholly counter to what we understand love to be. God is surely the source of love, so either we are incredibly twisted in our understanding and expression of love, or the God of Calvinism is not God at all.


2. Those who hold this view of election tend to claim that this is somehow an expression of God's goodness. Once again, as with love, how can this be seen as 'good', creating some people for salvation and some for doom? Moreover, there's nothing that any of us can do to change our status. In what sense is this good? Even those in the salvation camp would have to wonder at this. "I'm glad You chose me, God, but what about my brother? Is there anything You can do for Him? I love him quite a lot. Can we trade out or something?" As with many of these thoughts (except for the "love" thought above), this one is in its nascent stage, but is it not more likely that proponents of this view of election hold a particular exegetical bias and are thus forced to call this God's goodness based on the knowledge that God is by nature good and can therefore do nothing that is not good?


3. Finally (at least for now), I have issues with the implicit idea that sin is essentially human. It isn't, plain and simple. We are all sinners; this is not in question. But, sin is not of our very essence. God did not create us as sinners; we made ourselves sinners. I feel very strongly that we must both accept that we are sinners and at the same time understand that we are not created to be. Jesus proves that sin can be erased from us; our humanness cannot. I bring this up because the argument in the high-Calvinist camp often goes that we are sinners and therefore deserve punishment. This seems to assume that the identity of 'sinner' somehow trumps the identity of 'human'. My counter to that is that we are we are all imago-Dei humans, deeper than the depths of our sin, and therefore we are all worth saving.

I stated no teleological goals for this post, and I'm still not sure why I felt so compelled to write it, but here it is. That's all I've got.

Loneliness as Gift

As I read Nouwen's words about the first and second loneliness in his book, Home Tonight, I didn't feel the old, crippling loneliness, the loneliness that told me and tells me that I'm not good enough, that I'm unlovable. No, what I felt was a desire for the second loneliness, the loneliness that tells me that, yes, I am alone, but that also communicates comfort and peace in that fact, not pain and rejection. If I was not in some sense separate, alone, then I think the word "I" would be a misnomer used in reference to myself. There is something to this loneliness. It is only in this place that You can meet me, and it is only from this place that I can truly meet others. It is a sacred space. It is a place for You and You alone, and I cannot nor should I attempt to open this place to anyone else, for if I were able to do so, if I could accomplish this feat, I would cease to be an "I". Even You don't desire to remove this loneliness from me; in fact, it was You who gave it to me. It is a place only for You, but it is not Yours. It is what You have given me to give to You, the one thing I can offer You which no one else can offer You, and the gift You joyfully accept but do not take from me. It is not "identity" that I am speaking of here, but something else; it is the separateness You have given me, my otherness. I have it in common with all others, but it is uniquely mine. It is loneliness in essence, and this tells me that it is something to be treasured. It also tells me that I must treasure, respect, and protect this loneliness in others. It is hard to speak of because, in a profound sense, I speak of nothing, an emptiness. As must we all, I must find and embrace this in me, for although the words used to describe it suggest otherwise, it is one of the greatest gifts You have given to me, and to us all.

The Danger in Getting Your Feet Wet

I know You asked Peter why he doubted, but there was more to it than that, wasn't there? His doubt sprouted from his inability to suspend his beliefs about everything else. He "knew" how the world worked, what was and wasn't possible, what he could and could not do. He trusted the One who called him because at the moment You called him, all he saw and believed was You. But the longer the impossible remained possible, the harder it was to believe. The beliefs about how things really are crowded out the Truth. When Peter began to trust his beliefs about truth and reality more than Truth the Reality, he sank. As with Peter, my beliefs are of no importance when they run aground on You. No matter how I know You to work, how I know people to work, and how I know the world to work, when You say, "Come", I must let go of all the knowledge that would tell me that this feat is impossible and would thus keep me from coming. When You say, "Come", I have simply to do it.

What Jesus Sees

As I sit contemplating a magnificently turbulent sunset above Moraine Park, I become somewhat saddened and angered at the myriad people driving the roads and wandering the parking lots that mar the tranquil wildness of the meadow. They're ruining this, I think. And then Jesus appears beside me, smiling deeply. "Beautiful, isn't it?" He asks. I nod halfheartedly, still vexed by the tourist plague. And then He gives His eyes over to me. The sun remains brilliant, the clouds still intricately carved, but the people are dazzling. I can't turn away. Their beauty destroys me; it's too much. Love breaks over me, a violent wave that sweeps me up and directs me where I would not dare to go. I gasp for breath, I roar for mercy; if only I could turn away. Finally, spent and defeated, I surrender. And then, for a brief but calm eternity, I experience all maximally: joy, peace, love, pain. I blink. My own sight returns, but the effects of His vision linger. Though relieved to be reunited with my impoverished normalcy, I also sense a new longing within, to see through His eyes again. It was so painful, even unbearable, but it was the antithesis of the dull agony of living my life of not-Him. It was love, complete. It was His way. It was Him. (To see the image above in more detail, go to www.imagesofrmnp.com/photo.php?id=462&gallery=morainepark)

The "Be"ginning

I was encouraged to do this by my good friend, Erik, whose photograph "Misty Forest" is displayed on this page. So, if you stumble upon this blog and find it in the range of mildly disconcerting to horribly offensive, blame him. I don't know what this will be, or if it will be anything, but I imagine that it will be a collection of thoughts written out during times of inspiration that hopefully, taken together, form a mosaic depicting who God has shown Himself to be through me, who I believe that He has called each of us to be, and what He desires this world to be. Notice the presence of the word "be" and the absence of the word "do".