“Too Big to Fail” – Too Dangerous to Live

“…if people thought about real issues and needs instead of manufactured desires, the economy would collapse and we’d have total anarchy.”

Years ago, my sister-in-law noted that her parents had paid $25,000 for the home in which they raised her family. She and her husband had recently purchased a home in which to raise their family for roughly $250,000. She asked if I thought that, by the time they purchased homes in which to raise their families, our children would be paying somewhere in the neighborhood of $2.5 million. I replied that I felt there was little chance that our children would be purchasing homes at any price, since by that point the entire system would have collapsed into chaos and anarchy. She tried to laugh, until she saw the entirely sincere look on my face. “You really believe that could happen?” she asked. I only said, “Yes.” But inwardly I knew what I wanted to say: “I believe that should happen.”

My optimism has since been rewarded, and thwarted almost simultaneously.

A manipulative marketing system manufactures our needs, and then sells us goods and services to meet those “needs.” This system, however, is not merely unsustainable; it has, in fact, collapsed. And when it did collapse, we missed a great opportunity for liberation. We could have allowed the dust of Lehman Brothers, et al., to simply settle into the substrate and let emancipation grow up in its place. We could have refocused our society’s values and priorities on previously unattainable luxuries like life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Unfortunately, those who entice us to ever-more-excessive spending for ever-more-transient gratifications also effectively sell us our “public servants.” And we, in turn, elevate those “servants” to political office where we imagine they will control and guide the beasts which are allowed, yet again, to drag our economy forward and upward and, most likely, over some similar cliff in the near future.

In such a system, it isn’t surprising that some manipulate the math to their advantage. Nor does anyone reasonably deny that they have returned to doing so today. What does surprise me, however, is that most of us assume the truth of their claim—that they were “too big to fail”—as though their failure would result in some unmet need in our society. In fact, the “needs” they would fail to meet are the ones they have manufactured through their manipulative marketing.

But who can we blame? We are the ones who allow them to “create demand” for their goods and services. We are the ones who bandage our insecurities with trinkets and toys. We are the ones willingly oblivious of one another, absorbed instead into technology’s counterfeit relationships. We are the ones who feed the beast. We give them billions for things we do not need. Then, when they overindulged and consumed all we gave them and too much more, they told us we need them. That they are “too big to fail.” And so we gave them billions more—for no goods or services whatsoever—because we don’t know any other life than being enslaved to them, feeding their quarterly shareholders’ reports, and masking our pain with more purchases.

But we can face the painful truth, together: They are not serving us. We do not need them. There are alternatives. Stop buying their lies. Stop buying their stuff.

Stop feeding the beasts that are eating our children.

Ideas Are Powerful (but they need to get traction in order to go anywhere)

Despite the vanity plates, you can be sure that this is not my Corvette. How? For one thing, it has a fish on the back of it. I used to put symbols of my faith in Jesus Christ on the backs of my cars. Then I thought about my driving. I’m much better about it now, but I’m still not as sanctified behind the wheel as I would like to be.

Putting Power to Pavement

But the Vette does illustrate a point frequently discussed on Top Gear (at least on the BBC version that I watch) and in Automobile magazine (where Jean Jennings’ crew simultaneously inspires my vehicular fantasies as well as my aspirations to verbal excellence). The point often made is that, in the industry’s current escalation of horsepower output, useable power requires a chassis, gearbox, and especially tires for the traction needed to actually go faster. Some powerful cars, for example, go very well in a straight line, but are hopeless in the corners. Others need sophisticated electronics to prevent even seasoned drivers from simply obliterating their tires within a few yards of the starting line. The Camaro parked at my house is evidence that, in automotive considerations, there is such a thing as too much power—if not for the sake of the tires, then at least for the temptation it embodies.

When it comes to the power of ideas, however, I am entirely in favor of unlimited escalation. The world around us is in desperate needs of better ideas. But for those ideas to go anywhere, they need to get traction somehow. And whether in my own writing or that of others whose ideas I admire (when I can figure out where they’re going), there seem to be some “weak links” in the verbal equivalence of “putting power to pavement.”

Lighting Up the Tires

In my factory-original state, I was equipped with excellent exposure to and training in syntax, grammar, and especially vocabulary. I have been blessed to add to that some formal training in logic and rhetoric, along with a breadth of education that allows me to compare concepts from a variety of interesting (to me) fields of study, especially with regard to pastoral theology. But the addition of more powerful ideas and the exacting vocabulary in so many fields has actually lessened my effectiveness in some ways.

I continue to insist that “Words mean things,” for instance. To “say what you mean and mean what you say” requires a discipline to find the word that signifies your idea, and to use only that word for that idea. The challenge, however, is that in combining ideas from varied disciplines I use vocabulary that is specific for each, but incomprehensible to others. And, of course, from time to time, I just like to show off my vocabulary in the equivalent of “lighting up the tires.” The resulting cloud of blue smoke serves to imply that behind the incomprehensible jargon there are some overwhelmingly powerful ideas…whatever they may be.

Oil on the Track

But sometimes, what we mean isn’t what we say; and what we say isn’t what we mean. For the sake of manipulation, often the smoke comes complete with mirrors—magically transforming one idea into another, motivating decisions, behaviors, or at least an emotionally-charged outrage utterly divorced from reality.

For example, in a widely-read online Christian magazine, their “Political Opinion Editor” offered that God’s word doesn’t mean what it says in some cases; there must be exceptions when its clear statements contradict common sense. Specifically, he expressed that Romans 13:1-7 “only applies when civic law does not infringe upon God’s law” when we are told to “submit to the government.” In this case, the idea is popularly described by many as “submit,” “obey,” or “conform to” governmental demands, which are, themselves, often misrepresented. (e.g., The writer implies that the government will soon order me to kill unborn children and enter into a same-sex relationship, presumably after, or perhaps immediately before my divorce—but he doesn’t address that specifically.)

But the passage to which he refers is not at all confused or vague in the major English translations of scripture. In the King James, New American Standard, New International, and English Standard versions. In each case it reads, “be subject” (or in the NASB, “be in subjection to”). Of course, this doesn’t allow for the dramatic fantasy that scripture contradicts itself, or at least that it sets up an ethical quandary. It does not, in fact, demand that we obey scripture’s command to obey human government, even when doing so requires us to disobey other commands in God’s word. We do not need to abrogate scripture’s integrity for the sake of common sense. In context, the Apostle Paul describes a just government clearly contrasting the experience of the Christians to whom he is writing. Yet still he tells them to “be subject” to the government that had already imprisoned him, beaten him, and threatened to kill him (which, according to later tradition, they ultimately accomplished).

This teaching violates common sense and offends our sensibilities. But so does a great deal of the rest of scripture. Worse, it is entirely consistent with a view of God’s sovereignty above and beyond secular rulers—using them, and the consequences they impose on Christ’s followers as well, to accomplish His purposes. In short, “be subject” means that when any subordinate authority commands me to violate God’s commands, I allow them to subject me to the consequences they impose when I choose not to do so. (Check Acts 4:19 where Peter and John consider “whether it is right in the sight of God to give heed to you rather than to God.”) And saying that the passage doesn’t mean what it says doesn’t change the fact that it says exactly what it means.

Discerning Dialogue, Rather than Antagonistic Argument

If our ideas are to get traction and go somewhere, then the vocabulary we use cannot be blurred and distorted. For the sake of clarity, it may be necessary to first discuss what we assume are unambiguous definitions. But first, it is also necessary that we establish that our intention is communication for the sake of mutual understanding. Not that we will necessarily agree on anything but terminology. But we can hardly expect agreement on our ideas when there is no commonality in the words we use to express them. At the very least, we will come to understand where, and perhaps even why we actually disagree (if, in fact, we really do disagree).

Like “boys with toys,” though, sometimes the goal has nothing to do with getting anywhere at all. When that’s the case, feel free to step back, watch the show if you’d like. But acknowledge that “Yes, I see that you can turn tires into smoke. Still, I was hoping we’d be going somewhere with your ideas.”

Parents of Unvaccinated Children: “Parasites?” Really?!

This post is in response to a Facebook meme picturing Amanda Peet, with a quote attributed to her as, “Frankly, I feel that parents who don’t vaccinate their children are parasites.” A friend shared the image and noted, “Well…she’s a bit harsher than I would be. But still….” Here’s my take on the semantic implications of “parasite,” as well as some recommended alternatives to the term.

Mistletoe: Our Favorite Parasite.

I agree it's a little blunt.

But it does seem supported by one prevalent thread of the logic. It seems to go like this:

First, let's say that I believe the potential side-effects of vaccinations could pose a risk to my children.

Second, again imagining, I hypothetically believe that prior generations of vaccinated children and the majority today who vaccinate their children have so reduced the risk of certain diseases that, even unvaccinated, my child is unlikely to contract those diseases.

Therefore it follows that I can avoid one remotely potential risk to my children (vaccination) because the other potential risk (disease, disability, and/or death) has been made even MORE remote by the majority who have chosen (past and present) to vaccinate their children.

Given that thread of logic, "parasite" is entirely accurate. I would be leeching benefit from the resources accrued through the risks and responsibilities of others.

But there is at least one alternative thread of logic.

Clearly, this is far preferable...

1-If vaccinations are an unnatural intrusion into the natural order, and

2-if they do pose a risk of potential side-effects from proactively disrupting the regular decimation of the human population through epidemic disease, then

3-it stands to reason that a more natural course demands that we only react to disease once it has occurred, and then only to quarantine all who have potentially been exposed. This will allow us to see whether our children are genetically preferred or not (or, for those who object to the "survival of the fittest" implications, more divinely loved or not) on the basis of whether or not they survive the outbreaks of measles, whooping cough, polio, etc.

Of course, those who would choose this second option, to impose their own preferences in this risky experiment upon the lives of others' children, would not accurately be considered "parasites."

...to this. Isn't it?

Some have called them psychopaths, which denotes them as responding appropriately, but to a reality other than what the rest of us are perceiving. (Remember, it's always the "sane" majority who gets to define "crazy.")

To others, their inability and/or unwillingness to consider the needs of persons with whom they interact would label them sociopaths.

Either way, to be clear about our main point here: "parasite" would not apply.

Instead, by inevitably introducing disease into their surrounding networks of trusted relationships, they would more accurately be described as "pathogens."

I am in favor of inoculating ourselves against them.

Is This the Day of Decision? – Thanatological Perspectives on Trinitarian Theology

I can hardly wait to see this all grown up.

I am developing a journal article with the working title “Trinitarian Perspectives on Thanatology.” (Trinitarian means that I affirm one God, eternally existing in three persons. Thanatology is the study and practice of death, dying, bereavement, grief and mourning.) But I’ve also found myself thinking about the impact of mortality on my theology as well. So, here is a little bit of where those thoughts have been leading me lately.

When the diagnosis is terminal, crushing a patient’s expectations of an unlimited future, the next question is almost always about that future. “So, Doc, how long have I got?”

Some physicians will respond, not with a clear prognosis of the events and process to be expected, but with a numerical prognostication—a guess. No matter how the doctor tries to advise that it is, at best, a guess, what the patient wants to hear is something like this: “Well, given your height, weight, cholesterol, blood pressure, and drinking habits, I’d say somewhere in the range of two months, one week, three days, and seventeen hours or so.” Even when they listen carefully and hear a less specific prediction, some go home to mark their calendar. One patient even bet the doctor he’d beat the three-month dead-line she set, and the physician agreed that she’d buy him a beer if he did. (To her credit, when he did, she did.)

I'm looking forward to the big event.

This is why some of us admonish physicians, nurses, aides, social workers, chaplains, caregivers, and anyone else involved with the dying and bereaved to speak of “hours to days,” or “days to weeks,” “even weeks to months.” Most of us are not Hospice patients, though, and we expect at least months to years, preferably years to decades. None of us, however, will admit to expecting decades to centuries. But we frequently seem to assume that we will continue living for the foreseeable future (i.e., forever).

But you won’t.

And so, as much as I try to admonish doctors, nurses, etc. to use a less certain time frame, I try to admonish everyone I know to contemplate the eventual end to their life, and communicate what they are contemplating. That discussion can be distasteful to some. But the alternative is excessively cruel: leaving family members to guess at what their incapacitated loved-one may or may not have decided regarding their treatment. And so, obtain, complete, copy, and distribute an Advance Directives form. They are available from your physician’s office, or the nearest hospital. But for the convenience of my family, I gave them as Christmas presents last year.

Does this seem to be running fast?

What’s wrong with taking the position that “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it?” That attitude results almost universally in making under-informed and overly-influenced decisions. Why? Because there are very few diagnoses that require a treatment decision in the coming weeks to months. At the very best, you may have hours to days. And some of the most important decisions (I have faced three in my life.) can make even seconds to minutes a dangerous luxury. Therefore, the patient, or the family member tasked with the second-most-important life-decision possible, looks plaintively at the nearest doctor, nurse, aide, social worker, chaplain, or other “professional,” expecting them to make a decision for them.

And they will.

With little or no contemplation of the patient’s wishes, health-care providers simply project onto the situation their own personal preferences. Who can blame them? The patient has left them little option by providing no guiding information. The family members rarely have discussed the possibility of anyone dying, and almost never imagine the kinds of momentary decisions that are required.

Therefore, if you are an average person, the most important decisions you should make will be made for you by others. Most often, if you have not expressed your preferences, then you will have left your closest loved-one to guess on your behalf.

How. Dare. You.

But what does this have to do with my Trinitarian Theology? The same mechanism is at work. For most, “we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Maybe someone else will tell us what we’re supposed to believe. If I may gently express my loving annoyance toward all the “pan-theists,” “pan-tribulationists,” and/or “pan-trinitarians” who believe “it will all pan-out in the end:” understand that your glib humor fosters procrastination in others regarding the most important decisions they will ever make. I strongly agree with A.W. Tozer: “What comes into our minds when we think about God is the most important thing about us.” (The Knowledge of the Holy)

Just another minute or so...

So, you have two decisions to make.

First, determine to respond today to the loving heavenly Father whose Holy Spirit is guiding you toward trusting in what the Son, Jesus Christ, has done for you, is seeking to do in you, so that you can be blessed by what He will do through you.

Second, as soon as your physician’s office opens, get a copy of the Advance Directives form and bless your family by contemplating, completing, and communicating your decisions for what you want done in the event you become unable to express your health-care preferences.

“Now I contemplate my death,

        before I take my final breath.

If I should die—perish the thought!—

        what life-saving methods would I have sought?”

An Indelible Influence

Bruce and Amelia Gulley

As many know, the past year has brought multiple deaths in our congregation and community, and among our family and friends. The loss of the aunt and uncle who contributed greatly to the first fourteen years of my upbringing, and who continued to be an exemplary and loving presence until very recently, are among the most profound losses I have experienced. I was privileged, though, to share musically (in a duet with my sister) and homiletically (that means I preached the sermon) at my aunt’s funeral and graveside services last Friday in West Union, Ohio. Here is a close approximation of what I said at the funeral.

Ephesians 2:8-9 “For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, so that no one may boast.” This sentence address the very heart of the Christian faith. It also addresses what I believe to be the most common misconception that I face in my own life and as a preacher and teacher of God’s word. Do I trust in what Jesus Christ has done on my behalf as the only grounds on which I may claim a relationship with God and, with that relationship, eternal life? Or do I “hedge my bets,” making sure I’m a good person, doing good things, hanging out with good people…just in case He grades on a curve, or there’s a checklist I need to complete, or—like those jokes about Peter at the Pearly Gates—I’m going to need to justify my right to enter into heaven when this life is done.

As a young pastor…in fact, while I was still at Bible College—I remember the conversation taking place by phone from my dorm room, actually—my Aunt Meadie said something I had heard her say many times before. I don’t remember what it was that my Uncle Bruce had done. Either some kindness to a neighbor, or some volunteer service in the community (it may have been the time he replaced the cabinets in the church kitchen). But she said, as she had before, “That Brucie sure is a good man. Y’know, if Brucie ain’t going to heaven, there ain’t nobody going!” I remember objecting. I asserted that the basis for a restored relationship with our Creator God and the means for attaining eternal life were only through faith in the atoning work of Jesus Christ in His life, death, burial, resurrection, ascension and intercession.

It would come up again, dozens of times over the past thirty years or so. She’d tell me something my uncle had done, and finish with “Y’know, if Brucie ain’t going to heaven, there ain’t nobody going!” I’d start to say something about being saved by grace through faith in Christ alone, and she’d interrupt: “Yes, I know. We’re really only going because of what Jesus did for us. But you have to admit, your Uncle Bruce is a good man.”

I wouldn’t argue that with her.

Meeker Funeral Home, West Union, Ohio

Nor would I argue a number of other assertions she made. I never argued with her that if “it’s good to the last drop,” then it stands to reason that “that drop’s good, too.” I wouldn’t argue that it’s insufficient to love someone “a bushel and a peck,” but that you should love them “a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck.” I never argued that, regarding the one time she spanked me, it made a much more profound impression upon her than it did me. (She mentioned it often, but I really don’t remember it happening.) And I would never argue that since I wouldn’t “call and reverse the charges,” she was going to tell me, whenever I called, “Hang up and I’ll call you right back so you don’t have to pay for this call.” And then, at the end of the conversation, she’d say again, “Next call and reverse the charges.” I never did.

All that and so much more meant that on those few occasions when she was the one to call me first, I couldn’t argue with her reasons. But I’ll say more about that in a moment.

First, I want to finish that sentence we started earlier. For those of us who grew up in Sunday School, and those of us who have desperately tried to catch up, we know that Ephesians 2:8-9 is one of our most important memory verses. But I see the sentence continuing through verse ten.

Ephesians 2:8-10 “For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, so that no one may boast. [And now, verse 10:] For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them.” If that sentence ended with “created in Christ Jesus for good works,” then it would sound like God has this big farm with lots of chores, and so He recruits and adopts us because He needs to get some things done. But what I understand from the idea that God prepared these good works “so that we would walk in them,” is that He didn’t build us to get the chores done, but put the kinds of chores in front of us, along with the experiences, and the relationships that would shape us into who we were created to be. Not just bearers of His image and likeness in some general sense. But as that’s being restored in us through Christ, we’re also intended to find, to fulfill, and to find our fulfillment in becoming all we were created to be: our specific, unique, divine life purpose.

But that also means that we sometimes face circumstances that none of us would willingly choose. And if you know Meadie and Bruce at all, you know they faced lots of those. I was in elementary school the first time we got the call that my Uncle Bruce was in the hospital, and might not pull through the heart surgery. Then there were cancers, and strokes, and more heart issues, and lung problems, and broken hips, and more. And that doesn’t even begin to take into account the realities of being separated for most of four years immediately after getting married, not to mention all that Uncle Bruce experienced in the South Pacific during World War II. If they’d been asked in advance, I think that none of us would have argued with them if they said, “No, thank you” to many of those circumstances.

Now, we know that our relationship with God and our eternal life comes by grace through faith. And yet, what we truly believe is seen more clearly in what we do, not just in our words. There’s a short poem that I’d like to read for you. It sums this up for me pretty well.

“When that which I say

        isn’t that which I do,

I’d ask you to pray

        that I’d see which is true.

For it’s what I obey

        that brings faith to view,

and the only clear way

        I could show it to you.”

Adams County Court House, West Union, Ohio

What that means for me in this context, is that the worries of a young Bible College student, pastor, and aspiring theologian about his aunt’s faith in Christ, or her dependence upon “being a good person”—well, I did worry that Aunt Meadie knew the right words to say in order to make her theologically-correct nephew feel better. And yet, over time, I came to believe that my Aunt Meadie believed that our Redeemer lives. And here’s why.

Those few times that she was the one to call me? It was because she believed that God answers prayer. And if you paid attention to how the two of them got to be ninety-two years old, there appears to be strong reason to believe the same. God does answer prayer, and He did answer prayer—in many ways, many times. Sometimes simply, in little things, but also in circumstances we could never have imagined ending well. Sometimes through human means, and sometimes utterly miraculously.

I believe that my aunt believed that our Redeemer lives. And my Aunt Meadie’s beliefs shaped how she lived her life, and in turn her life has shaped mine, and all of ours who were blessed to know her. That’s how it’s supposed to work. That’s why we gather together not just for family reunions at funerals, but week after week, as members of Christ’s body, as brothers and sisters in the family of God, so we can see what each other needs, and so we can share what God is doing in each of our lives. But it is also a big part of why we do funerals, memorial services, and gravesides.

Let me read us II Corinthians 1:3-4, “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.”

We gather at funerals and memorial services and gravesides to share that comfort and peace. And the best way that happens is through reminiscence. It’s helpful to hear yourself say aloud the things that are true about your relationship with Meadie, and the reality of having lost her. Whether you share that openly with all of us here, or later with just another person or two, you’re also helping them to receive that comfort and peace from knowing more and more of the life she lived, and what that loss means to us.

Wilson Children's Home, West Union, Ohio

Now, just a word of explanation, though. Some of us would like to share some memories, but the thought of speaking in front of any group of people is so petrifying that it would be impossible. That’s okay. Even if it’s not in front of anybody else, though. Give it a try. Speak aloud what you know to be true about your relationship and your loss. Others of us would like to say something here, but the reality of our overwhelming emotions would make it impossible to coherently string together words into sentences. That’s okay, too. There will be plenty of time to share with one another following the graveside. You’re all invited to join us for dinner at the West Union Christian Union Church. But for those who would like to and are able to, this is your opportunity to share some of those memories.

A Point of Agreement between Evangelicals and Pagans: Solving a Shared Semantic Issue

Evangelicals are not Pagans. Pagans are not Evangelicals. But not all evangelicals are Evangelicals. Nor are all pagans Pagans. And it’s very important that we understand why. And I have a suggestion for what we might do about it.

Please, read on.

My Tribe, Love It or Not

It’s not so much that I don’t like being called an Evangelical. The term, theologically-speaking, accurately describes me. What I find objectionable is the wide-ranging roster of persons, positions, and practices that are also called Evangelical.

In the past I have proposed a more specific term, “Exegetical,” meaning those who seek to correctly understand and apply the teachings of the Holy Bible to their beliefs and behaviors. Walter Kaiser, in The Promise Plan of God, suggests “Epangelical,” to emphasize the plot-thread of God’s promised redemption, beginning in the third chapter of scripture and concluding at the end of the final Revelation. (Thus, “Epangelical” since epangelia is the Greek word for “promise.”) But both these concepts are comprised by “Evangelical,” despite its continued hijacking by the professionally religious, the consuming minimalists, nominal secularists, political power-brokers, and hate-mongering hypocrites. (For a broader take on this issue, Dr. Sam Tsang’s Engage the Pews blog includes a post, “Evangelicalism does NOT define Christianity!” You can find it here: http://engagethepews.wordpress.com/2014/01/15/evangelicalism-does-not-define-christianity/)

The Problem of “Pagans”

What primarily brought this to mind, though, is a discussion elsewhere of a term that is experiencing exactly the opposite semantic phenomenon: “pagan.” Dr, Paul Louis Metzger regularly applies the term in its generic sense to mean “unchristian or non-Christian,” or more specifically “non-Abrahamic religious or spiritual traditions,” as in an addendum to his recent post “How Does the Pagan Play ‘Rent’ Bear Witness to Christ?” at his Uncommon God; Common Good blog (found here: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/uncommongodcommongood/2014/01/how-does-the-pagan-play-rent-bear-witness-to-christ/). 

The semantic range of “pagan” certainly includes some specific beliefs and practices among some specific types of religious structures and systems that choose to call themselves “Pagan,” with the capitalization apparently implying an intent to trademark. If I may, though: Pagans™—you might want to become Pagans®, but only if you intend to pursue infringement claims, of course.

The Semantic Solution

But, all humor aside, I do sympathize with the difficulties of communication when terms are either broadened to be co-opted and thus corrupted by others (as I believe happens when those who use religious terms and affiliations, like “Evangelical,” as a means to bully, oppress, and exploit others) or, as seems to be the case with Pagans, terms are narrowed to refer exclusively to only some portion of its former semantic range.

To illustrate these phenomena: Some differentiate between Evangelical and Christian, overlapping only slightly, and specifying their definitions almost to the point that the two terms are mutually exclusive (as in “You can be a Christian, but not an Evangelical; or an Evangelical, but not a Christian.”) I used to differentiate between “heathen” and “pagan,” with the former term comprising all non-Christians and the latter denoting those who specifically adhere to one of the multitudes of non-Christian religious systems of belief and/or behavior. (Thus “all pagans are heathen, but not all heathen are pagans.”) Where both kinds of semantic confusion occur, with a growing roster of religious terms being affected, what options might there be? (An allusion to New Wine requiring New Wineskins here is almost irresistible. To understand why, feel free to visit Dr. Metzger’s work at this site: http://new-wineskins.org/. But we’re being serious now.)

I’ve written previously (http://deathpastor.blogspot.com/2013/07/marriage-marriage-and-why-difference-is.html) on Dr. Colin Gunton’s recommendation of semantic specialization in which “the capacity of language increases by a process of de-synonymy; that is, the process whereby two words which are in the beginning synonymous take on different shades of meaning, and are so able to perform different functions.” And the idea certainly applies here that, rather than seeking to narrow an existing term to exclude elements of its former semantic range, other words which have held virtually the same meaning could be used to specify the new, narrower range one intends to denote.

But I am suggesting another approach.

The Personal Paradigm

What purpose do our labels fulfill (whether Evangelical, Pagan, Buddhist, or Atheist; Liberal or Conservative; or even designations within the ever-growing list of initials of LGBTQIA, etc.)? I see three functions.

(1) Where our labels are specific and accurate, they categorize us for more rapid discrimination, either positively or negatives. (e.g., “I am a theologically conservative, Evangelical, non-dispensational, relatively Arminian and moderately Charismatic pastor, chaplain, counselor, and seminary professor. Want to hang out? Or not?”)

(2) Where they present a façade behind which we conceal our unique beliefs and behaviors, they help us to categorize others by their reaction to the stereotype we project. (“I’m a ‘born-again Christian.’ Want to make something of it?!”)

And (3) where they are intentionally nebulous, vaguely representing something that may or may not communicate our authentic belief and behavior, they afford us a plausible deniability, allowing us to sidestep criticism by deftly shifting our position within (or even outside) the semantic range we’ve chosen. (“Yes, I’m an Evangelical, but not that kind of Evangelical. I’d still like you to like me.”)

So, here’s my suggestion. Let’s drop the labels. Let’s not defend the territory of our semantic range-wars. Let’s address the substance instead. Let’s talk about what you and I believe, and what you and I do about those beliefs.

But let’s also accept that the result may be that we are forced to admit how much we agree on, and then we’d be compelled to try to figure out why. I think the commonality at the foundation of all of our differentiation might surprise, or even dismay us.

From one human™ to another, thanks for reading this far.

What a Chiropractor Taught Me about Ministry

When I was working in marketing and advertising to support my ministry habit (church-planting at that point), I met a chiropractor, Matt Kriewall, through a business networking group to which I belonged. He needed marketing services, but I was reluctant. I didn’t write for products I couldn’t endorse. And I couldn’t endorse a product I’d never tried. And, having lived in California during the years when some chiropractors had strongly resisted regulation of their industry, I had a strong distrust of all of them.

I did agree, however, to an initial examination, though not until experiencing a back injury during rehearsals for a musical in which I was performing. (I was The Giant, in the process of carrying Jack offstage, unaware that the director felt that Jack was going along too compliantly. Thrown over my shoulder, Jack began to flail. It immediately felt as though someone had grabbed my spine between the shoulder blades and given it about a quarter-twist.)

As he looked over the x-rays he’d ordered and took measurements and even temperatures along either side of my spine, Matt assessed that the pain from the injury could be alleviated entirely within a week or so, but that even one adjustment should provide significant relief. “But,” he added, “were you wanting something done about that spot in your lower back?” I hadn’t said anything to him about it. Most of the time I managed to keep it fairly mobile. But the doctors I talked to after an auto accident years before agreed that one day I might need surgery, but short of that there was nothing to be done.

I have seen a chiropractor hundreds of times now. Occasionally, I spend too long at the computer, or fail to square my knees and hips when lifting, or lean a little too far out the window of the crow’s nest when I’m spotting and running the play clock during football season. When it flares up, after it’s bothered me for a couple of weeks usually, I go back to the chiropractor again for awhile until it’s better.

Nice story, eh? But what does all that have to do about ministry?

Today, Dr. Paul Louis Metzger posted to his blog: “On the Damaging Dualism of Proclamation vs. Demonstration.” (You can find it here: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/uncommongodcommongood/2014/01/on-the-damaging-dualism-of-proclamation-vs-demonstration/) In short, he points out that we shouldn’t “cop-out” from actually “sharing the good news of Jesus with words.” But neither should we “force the word of God down people’s throats.” I agree. In fact, interestingly to me, I’m preaching this coming Sunday on Mark 1:29-39, in which Jesus quickly becomes inundated with those responding to His ability to heal and deliver, so much so that He needs to create some space in which to continue “what I came for.” That is, “that I may preach there.”

Jesus healed, delivered, consoled, and fed. And He preached. And He did what was necessary to maintain the ability to do both. At least that’s how I see it. But that’s probably because my ministry involves lots of preaching, and lots of needs-meeting. As you might have read earlier, I gravitate toward those at the brink of disaster, those at the end of their rope, and those who are bleeding and broken at the bottom of the cliff. Sometimes I struggle with the reality that many who find help for their physical and practical needs through my ministry don’t always ask the questions I need to hear in order to explain why I do what I do, and Who it was that did so much for me that I can barely help doing for others. (As for the reason they have to ask me questions: As a chaplain and guest-speaker in some of the venues, the ethics require that I not proactively share my faith, unless someone specifically asks. Even then, I ask them if they realize what they’re asking and of whom.)

But one of the most effective means to opening a door (Colossians 4:2-4 comes to mind often.) is to note that there are other needs evident, beyond the ones that prompted them to call for my help. In the words of Matt Kriewall, I’m essentially asking, “Sure, we can do something about this most recent injury. But were you wanting something done about this other problem as well?”

We can live out the gospel silently, which is certainly more attractive than speaking out the gospel with no accompanying demonstration of love for Christ and others. But there seems to be a third option. As we are in the process of meeting the clear and present needs of those God calls us to serve, I believe that there may be more open doors than we imagine.

Those who are sick and injured want to be healed, to be put back to normal…even if normal includes some long-standing damage that they’ve resigned themselves to enduring. Jesus asks the lame man at the pool of Bethsaida not “Do you want to walk?” but “Do you want to be well?” (John 5:1-8) I think most of us do want to be made whole—body, soul, and spirit. We just imagine that we have to settle for just a little healing here and there. It would do us good to hear more clearly and more often from those who remind us: Jesus wants us to be made whole.

Of course, it’s easier to hear that from someone who’s already listened to you explain your pain, and is helping to meet the needs of which you’re already too-clearly aware.