We’ve now come to the end of Psalm 119, the taw section. Like much of the psalm, there is an interchange between pleading with God for deliverance and publicly confessing the psalmist’s commitment to God. In this section, that commitment shows up as praise.

In 119:169-171 we read of the plea:

May my cry come before you, O Lord;
give me understanding according to your word.
May my supplication come before you;
deliver me according to your promise.

This very common use of parallelism between the verses leads us to see line 1 and 3 as largely the same and lines 2 and 4 as complementing. His cry is a supplication; his understanding is as needful as his deliverance. He doesn’t just want God to make clear to him what is going on, he wants God to deliver him.

This reminds me of John the Baptist sending two disciples to Jesus to ask if Jesus was or was not the “one who is to come.” I doubt John was “googling” Jesus for information; he wanted a specific answer (yes) so he could then make a plea — get me out of prison.

So the psalmist: he pleas — as he’s done throughout the entire psalm — for deliverance.

He seeks for insight from God’s Word; he expects deliverance because, knowing that Word, he knows God is faithful to his promises.

In the final paragraph of Psalm 119, in v. 171, the psalmist erupts into praise and he describes before God what his experience is (or will be) like.

“May my lips overflow with praise for youi teach me your decrees.”

It seems the second part assumes the reality of the first part: he knows the experience of learning from God.

He knows what it is like to sit with the Torah and meditate and wait upon God. He knows what it is like for God to visit him, to teach him, to enlighten him, and to make clear his paths as he seeks to walk the way of Torah.

V. 172 largely repeats the point: “May my tongue sing of your word for all your commands are righteous.”
He delights in God as God speaks through the Word and he sings praise for what he has learned.

The psalmist often declares his commitment to God and to God’s Word and therefore he believes the Lord should deliver him. Notice these lines:

May your hand be ready to help me,
for I have chosen your precepts.
I long for your salvation, O Lord,
and your law is my delight (119:173-4)

We see commitment; we see request. It is not so much justification of himself as it is overt confidence that, since he has observed the Torah and since God promises blessing to the Torah-doer, he believes God ought to deliver him out of God’s faithfulness.

This is an old theme in this psalm; it is one that tends to make Protestants nervous; it is a theme, however, that has more merit than we might admit. He is not claiming self-righteously that he’s superior to others, but instead of his utter commitment to God and that God promises blessings. His declaration of commitment, then, is not simply an observation but a window into a system: I’ve done my part, You are faithful, now do yours.

The second to last verse of Psalm 119 brings to fruition the center of the entire psalm:

Let me live that I may praise you,
and may your laws sustain me (175).

First, he wants to live so he can praise God or he wants to be delivered so he can praise God when he is delivered.

Second, it is his Torah that gives the psalmist the desire to live so he can praise God or he prays that God’s Torah will sustain him as he awaits God’s deliverance.

Either way we have the same: the psalmist wants to live a life that is shaped by praising God that emerges from dwelling in God’s Torah and living out that Torah. A life of praise; a life of learning and living Torah. That’s the entirety of this psalm.

The last verse of Psalm 119, which marks the end of this series, surprises:

I have gone astray like a lost sheep; seek out your servant,
for I do not forget your commandments (119:176).

For the first time in the entire psalm — that I recall — the psalmist admits that he’s messed up. Or does he? Samson Raphael Hirsch, a rabbinic commentator, translates like this: “If I have strayed.” Not “I have gone astray” but if I have strayed.

Even if we make the last verse conditional, the central themes continue to emerge: “seek out your servant, for I do not forget your commandments.” Seek me out God — the psalmist seems to be saying — when I wander away. Why? Because, even if I wander, I have not intended to wander.

Perhaps there’s a better explanation: perhaps the wandering is not moral but geographical — that is, I’ve gotten myself caught in the middle of those who deny your Torah. Find me, God, and deliver me. Why? Because I’ve been faithful.

The second section of Alister McGrath’s book A Fine-Tuned Universe: The Quest for God in Science and Theology deals with fine-tuning and natural theology in the context of a number of scientific theories and observations. The first of these relate to cosmology and the fundamental constants of the universe.

It has been noted by many scientist that the universe appears to be fine-tuned for the existence of life. Many of the fundamental constants appear unconstrained in their values, yet have values that, if they were even slightly different, would lead to a sterile universe unable to develop life. This leads to the so-called Anthropic Principle which is expressed in two forms (p. 116): weak: “what we can expect to observe must be restricted by the conditions necessary for our presence as observers” (after all to quote Robert Dicke “It is well known that carbon is required to make physicists”(p. 122)) and strong: “the universe (and hence the fundamental parameters on which it depends) must be such as to admit the creation of observers within it at some stage.“

This observation does not provide a deductive proof for the existence of God, and certainly does not demonstrate the existence of the Christian God. Yet it is consistent with Christian theism. And this leads to the question McGrath poses in his book.

Does God offer the best empirical explanation for the anthropic phenomena, the fine-tuning of the universe for our existence?

For those who are interested, the development of our understanding of the nature and origins of the universe is a fascinating story. For an accessible introduction McGrath recommends a book by Amir Aczel God’s Equation: Einstein, Relativity, and the Expanding Universe and I concur. This is a fascinating and readable book. I picked it up on a whim at a bookstore many years ago, and couldn’t put it down. The title, God’s Equation, refers not to any theistic view, but to the fact that there is a relatively simple fundamental equation that describes the universe.

McGrath outlines three different approaches that are taken to deal with the anthropic phenomena.

First: The fine-tuning is nothing but an interesting coincidence. We are incredibly lucky – and if we weren’t, we wouldn’t be here to know about it.

The fundamental constants in question had to have some value – so why not these ones? They need possess no further significance. To give an example: the population of the United States is (over) 300 million. There is only one president. The odds of any one American becoming president are thus 1 in 300 million. But so what? It may be highly improbable that any given individual should be president, but it is a certainty that someone will be. At one level it is impossible to refute this argument. Yet it is clearly inadequate to account for the actualization of a highly improbable scenario: the emergence of a universe adapted for life. (p. 121)

Second: Observational Bias. The anthropic principle appears significant on account of the bias or location of the observer. This relates to the observation of a number of coincidences in the magnitudes of various quantities pointed out by P.A.M. Dirac. But these coincidences may simply point to a timing issue – these coincidences hold at the time and place where life develops, but they do not hold everywhere or at all times. Of course they are true here and now.

A related approach is taken by Nick Bostrom, who argues that any special features of the universe which we might observe are ultimately illusory, a necessary consequence of our restricted viewpoint. … Bostrom thus argues that the central error of much anthropic thinking concerns a failure to appreciate that it represents nothing other than an observational selection effect. (p. 122)

Third: We don’t have a universe, we have a multiverse. This approach is based on the inflationary model proposed by Alan Guth.

On this view, there exists a multiplicity of universes, so that the one we inhabit is an inevitability. We happen to live in a universe with these biologically friendly properties; we do not observe other universes, where these conditions do not pertain. (p. 123)

Because there was an enormous inflation in the intial formation of the universe there are bubbles completely separated from each other that we are unable to observe. The speed of light – our limiting communication channel – guarantees that we will never observe them.

Current interpretations of string theory suggest that the multiverse may consist of as many as 10⁵⁰⁰ sets of constants. In most of these domains, the sets of values inherited would be expected to be biophobic. However on probabilistic grounds, there will be some region in which the sets of values are biophilic. We happen to live in one such universe. It may be fine-tuned for life. But what of the 10⁵⁰⁰ others? (p. 124)

Some will go so far as to suggest that every possible outcome has been realized and as some universes are suitable for life at certain times, in certain places, it is inevitable that life will exist. We are back to the first option above. While it is improbable that any given universe will be hospitable, it is inevitable that some (at least one) will be.

McGrath points out that “at present the multiverse hypothesis remains little more than a fascinating yet highly speculative mathematical exercise.” He also suggests that while the multiverse is touted by some as doing away with the need to consider design or divinity, that the multiverse is fully consistent with the theistic understanding of God. It certainly doesn’t eliminate God as creator. We still have a universe created with the potential and potencies for our existence.

Back to Augustine and the general model found in his view of creation.

The fundamental picture that emerges from the contemporary view of the origins and development of the universe is that of an entity which came into existence and was virtually instantaneously endowed with the potentialities for anthropic development.

Augustine suggested that God created not by producing ready-made objects but by potencies and process. This is entirely consistent with the world we see. We live in a universe where it is possible (obviously) and inevitable that something like us would exist – the universe was created with the “potencies” for our development. Not in the way that Augustine thought – but nonetheless created and designed with intent using process to bring it about.

So What?

The existence of God is a reasonable empirical explanation for the data – but it is not the only possible explanation. I think that it is the best empirical explanation because it explains more than just the nature of the universe. But this is a faith statement. It is not a science statement. And I will suggest that this is the way God intends it to be. When we read the story in the Bible, the story of God’s interaction with his people two things seem obvious to me. First, the God of the Bible is interested in relationship and covenant. He does not knock people over the head and compel them to belief and obedience. Second, if the Bible is taken seriously, even incontrovertible evidence is insufficient to compel belief and obedience. This is a relationship.

What do you think? Does the fine-tuning of the universe for our existence point to God?

If you wish to contact me directly you may do so at rjs4mail [at] att.net.

If interested you can subscribe to a full text feed of my posts at Musings on Science and Theology.

By Mitch East, currently the preaching intern at the North Atlanta Church of Christ

Seminary doesn’t teach you everything you need to know about being a minister.

For the past year, I worked as the youth minister for Freedom Fellowship, a church that reaches out to the homeless and poor in Abilene, Texas. At the beginning, the students in the youth group didn’t trust me. I was the new guy on their turf. So two students, who we’ll call David and Alicia, made it their goal to test the boundaries of what was appropriate for a couple to do in class. In other words, they made out – during class.

I learned that confronting the issue head on (“Hey, please don’t make out”) had no effect. Instead, I tried to have conversations with them to distract them from their eternal romantic gaze. Nine times out of ten, it worked.

One time, it didn’t. They made out with fury and dedication. I tried talking to my other students, but they were too distracted by the monstrosity occurring five feet away from them. One kid, who we’ll call Luis, ran out of patience. With a few of his favorite expletives, Luis told them to stop making out. At this, David stopped, stood up, and pulled out a knife.

Five other students (friends of Luis) stood up, ready to respond to this new development with their version of conflict resolution. Without any time to think, I stood up and put my hands in between Luis and David and repeated the only word that came to mind. “RELAX! RELAX! RELAX! RELAX! RELAX!”

I know, strange word choice. But, after ten seconds that felt like forty minutes, David, Luis, and Luis’ five bodyguards slowly sat down.

I remember driving the students home. I thought to myself, “I don’t know what I’m doing.” When I took the job at the church, I had one year left in seminary at Abilene Christian University. I loved my classes and professors, but seminary did not teach me what I needed to know for that night. Which meant that my seminary didn’t teach me everything I needed to know about being a minister.

I’ve come to believe that seminaries should not try to teach us everything we need to know about being a minister.

Why not? First, seminaries never promised to do so. Seminaries promise to teach subjects like theology, ministry, and church history. Second, they don’t have the resources to teach ministers everything. Otherwise, they’re pretending. For example, seminaries don’t train ministers to become marriage therapists. Therapists are required to have hundreds of hours in a clinic doing therapy for their clients. If I take one therapy-related class in my seminary, I am not a licensed therapist. I am a minister who has taken one class about therapy.

Likewise, seminaries should not try to train students to become businesswomen, doctors, or life coaches. Let trained businesswomen, doctors, and life coaches teach their students to become what those disciplines are made for. Although I love the idea of seminaries training students to disarm knife fights, that training isn’t what seminary is for. I simply had to do the best I could and learn on the fly.

This is why young ministers (like me!) should slow down before they blame their professors for “not preparing them enough.” After stumbling into a situation in which you have no idea what you’re doing, the temptation is to blame your teachers. “All my professors taught me was abstract; none of it was practical.” “They never connected the dots from seminary to church work.” “They don’t know what the real world is like.” I have used these stock phrases and they made me feel better about my failures.

But working in a local church taught me the opposite lesson. Seminaries exist to prepare students to become ministers with the imagination it takes to respond to situations they never see coming. Working in a local church made me appreciate my teachers all the more. My professors expected me to connect the dots; they did not connect the dots for me. I’m glad they didn’t. Now I have to imagine how seminary connects to kids who are ready to pull out knives in an argument.

On the next blog post in this series, I’ll share some of the connections I’ve made between seminary and local church work. But for now, I’ll finish the story.

Because that night was my first knife fight in or outside of the church, I had to go to the leaders of the church to ask for help. They talked with David; he didn’t deny bringing the knife. He listened to the elders, who told him Freedom Fellowship resolves fights by communicating, not with weapons. He never brought his knife back to church and we never had another incident like it.

You know, your typical success story in youth ministry.

Have you ever had your back to the wall? Ever wonder if you were going to make it? Ever wonder if the enemy would do you in? Ever wonder if you would live another day? The psalmist knows the experience, and the Resh section (119:153-160) reveals how the psalmist faced the future when his back was to the wall.

The theme of the Resh section is an old one: the psalmist is being opposed and persecuted and chased, and he appeals to God for deliverance and anchors his appeal in his own faithfulness to the Torah. Old themes sometimes reveal fresh light. I hope this one does this week for you.

The psalmist’s back is against the wall — opposed by those opposed to God — and simply faces God and petitions God and pleads his case:

“Look on my misery and rescue me,
for I do not forget your law” (119:153).

He asks God to look; he then asks God to rescue; he then argues his case on the basis of his obedience to the Torah.

Seek the face of God, seek deliverance through God, and keep your integrity. That’s how to face the future when our back is against the wall. He did not plot; he did not scheme; he did not appeal to powers. He faced God, asked for rescue, and kept on going on with what was right.

The psalmist’s back is against the wall. He has faced God, he has asked God for rescue, and he has appealed to his own integrity — that’s 119:153. In v. 154 there is a subtle, revealing development.

“Plead/defend my cause and redeem me” is largely the same as 153a — he faces God, he asks God to redeem (or rescue) him. But notice the following:

“Give me life according to your promise” (154b).
Two things:
Rescuing and redeeming is understood as “life.”

More importantly, instead of appealing to his own integrity, as he does in 153b, in 154b he asks God to preserve his life “according to your promise.” The uttered word of God, the promise that God would be Israel’s God (as Israel remained faithful), is the foundation of his longing for life.

Covenant faithfulness is what he appeals to with God. He thinks his life should be preserved in order to demonstrate to the world that God is faithful to his covenant words of promise.

Are we this theological? This protective of God’s glory? This protective of God’s reputation? This protective of God’s covenant words of promise? Do we want deliverance in order to bring glory to God or to save our own skin?

When your back is against the wall you know have to know not only where to look (to God) but also where not to look — and the psalmist explores that in vv. 155, 157-158. Here are his words:

155 Salvation is far from the wicked,
for they do not seek your statutes.
…
157 Many are my persecutors and my adversaries,
yet I do not swerve from your decrees.
158 I look at the faithless with disgust,
because they do not keep your commands.

The psalmist has enemies who neither know the Torah nor respect God. They are out to get him and put him to death. In fact, they’ve got him cornered as he writes this prayer to God.

He names them for what they are: “wicked” (reshaim), “persecutors” and “adversaries,” and he sees them as “faithless” (from bagal — treacherous, deceitful).

He knows their behaviors: “they do not seek your statutes” and “they do not keep your commands”.

He knows what he must do — stay the course by looking to God, trusting in God, and observing the Torah and avoid the course of action his enemies have chosen.

As with vv. 153, 154, the psalmist’s plea is very simple and clear. We find it in vv. 156 and 159:

156 “Great is your mercy, O LORD;
give me life according to your justice.
…
159 Consider how I love your precepts;
preserve my life according to your steadfast love.”

He wants to live; he wants to survive; and he is begging God for life.

Now his life is under threat evidently because he was faithful to the Torah and probably not a little courageous in pointing out that others were not faithful to the Torah. His compassion for his enemies is well known.

Perhaps our backs are against the wall because of health or because of age or because we’ve done something unwise; maybe we are asking God to bail us out. We may even think we deserve our backs to be against the wall.

Still, the one committed to God is encouraged by this psalm to face God, petition God, and appeal to God’s saving mercies on the basis of God’s covenant faithfulness. And to do so not only that basis but also because we have ourselves been faithful.

The psalmist wants to be delivered because God is just — which means God will render judgment in favor of the weak and oppressed and poor and faithful. And because of God’s steadfast love … for the same group. Those who love the precepts of the Lord, who delight in his will and long to do it.

The focal point of this psalmist, a fella who has his back against the wall and is surrounded by those who want to do him in, is this:

The sum of your word is truth;
and every one of your righteous ordinances endures forever.

It is no wonder that the rabbis love this psalm; it is Torah-centric.

The “sum” or other ideas connected to this term (rosh): tip of a mountain, top of the tower, top of the mast or tree, the ears of a corn, the chief of a nation or group, the best… etc..

The whole is put together into this one word: God’s Word is Truth; everything God says is eternally true. God can do no other.

For that reason, the psalmist faces God with his back against the wall, pleas with God, and asks God to preserve his life.

Downloads vs. The Duty to Worship God

He pulled his earbuds out.

He was working out on the crotch machine. You know the piece of equipment. The one where you exercise your thighs by pushing in and out like the levers of a pinball machine; the one that appears designed for no other purpose than to equip the exerciser for feats of ecstatic prowess.

“I was just listening to your sermon from Sunday.”

‘You can listen to sermons while you work out?’ I said.

You listen to my voice while you’re sex-ercising?! I thought.

‘Yeah, I listen to you guys’ sermons every week when I come here.’

‘It’s not repetitive, hearing it all over again a second time?’

‘Repetitive?’ he asked confused. He added another 10 lbs and started a second set on the crotch machine, and then my assumption about his Sunday attendance washed over his face, “No, I haven’t been to Sunday Church in forever. Just so busy, you know? Work. Kids. Soccer and Lacrosse.’

He closed his eyes and, in the words of Salt N’ Peppa, pushed it real good. ‘That’s why the podcast and the online giving are so great. I can get the message whenever wherever I am and I don’t need the offering plate to make my contribution.’

‘That’s great’ I said to him.

‘That’s not great’ I thought in the same instant and walked off to the locker room for what became a long sobering shower.

In fact, I run into people like him all the time. At the grocery and the pool and the barber shop. Even the chemo ward. In the checkout aisle and in the mens room at the local pizza dive, people tell me they listened to my sermon on their phone.

The numbers bear out their testimony. In my 12 years in this parish, total worship attendance has remained stable at around 600 per Sunday; however, in that time frequency of worship attendance has declined precipitously. The average worshipper now attends on Sunday morning only twice a month, every other Sunday. This trend is perhaps the most inclusive attribute of our congregation as it cuts across every age and demographic. It’s not just the soccer moms and little league dads skipping Sunday am. It’s the empty nesters too who have over the last decade decided to snuggle up in that nest and sleep in on Sundays.

The Google Analytics confirm what I see from the altar. By the following sabbath, the MP3 downloads of my Sundaysermon will be double compared to the people who listened to it live. And, I can tell from Google’s creepy stats, many in this diaspora of sermon downloaders live right here in my city.

If ‘online community’ is even an intelligibly Christian category- and I’m not convinced- ours exceeds those who gather on Sunday morning.

The factor is even larger for those church folks who interact with me through this blog; meanwhile, every season yields a greater percentage of our operating budget given not in the brass plate but from the dropdown menu on our church website.

The upside in all of this, obviously, is that stable total attendance with decreased frequency in attendance means more total people are worshipping with us. It means people who would never join a bible study will email me a question about a blog post or a podcast. It means my church’s cash flow is healthier in the lean summer months the more we don’t need to rely on the plate offering.

So, there is upside.

But what sent me slinking off into the locker room was the gut check realization that the downside is real too.

You can download my sermons from your phone. For free. In less than 3 seconds. With DC traffic, you can check off the sermon on your To Do list on the way to the store. All alone in your car.

I wonder- in the zeal to create online constituencies, nurture e-engagement, and offer convenience and constant connection have we let slip a more fundamental claim upon us?

Have we made too easy for people NOT to show up for Sunday worship and, in making it too easy not to show up, have we forgotten that we previously asked them to vow to do just that?

In the United Methodist Church, the first vow the baptized make when joining the local expression of the Body of Christ is their presence. They covenant to show up. They promise to be present for the purpose of praise.

Not to blunt the matter, Christians have a holy and sacred obligation to participate in the community’s worship and glorification of God. Consider our fascination with the Social Principles. United Methodists do not hesitate to use the language of duty when it comes to ethical issues so why are reticent to speak of duty when it comes to the liturgical?

Our reticence is even more problematic when you recall that for Christians the ethical and the liturgical are not two distinct, exclusive, or complementary forms of faithfulness. Rather the one produces the other. The one is the necessary condition for the possibility of the other. What gets lost about the Apostle Paul’s diatribe in Romans 1 is his larger point that false worship of God produces vices while right worship of God forms us in the virtues such that repentance of our vices is possible.

Worship of the true and living God, therefore, is the only condition for right conduct.

The liturgical act makes possible, over time, the ethical act. It produces in us the habits that promise the possibility of becoming virtue. In other words, the commitment to show up and worship is the necessary condition for the creation of a people who can live out the social principles. As Paul says elsewhere in Romans, it’s through the Gospel proclamation that God rectifies us, puts us to rights.

The Westminster Shorter Catechism echoes Paul’s point about the formative necessity of worship. The very first article of the catechism answers that the chief end of man is “To glorify God and enjoy him forever.” 

Chief end.

As in, telos.

Worship is where we discover and live into the end for which God has made us and towards which our lives, properly ordered, are directed. To make it plain, worship is where we learn how to be human.

The God you connect with in nature or on the golf course on Sunday morning never will be the God who raised Jesus Christ from the dead.

Such a God will not insist you confess your trespasses every week nor is it likely the God of the golf course will command you to do something as counterintuitive as loving your enemies.

The insufficient ‘God of creation’ produces insufficient creatures.

Only in the context of gathered worship does the Living God speak.

Why would we be shy about insisting that Christians have a duty and obligation to listen? As the First Article of the Second Helvetic Confession of 1563 states: ‘The preaching of the Word of God is the Word of God.” That is, when scripture is proclaimed faithfully and faithfully received by its listeners, it ceases to be an historical word and becomes a Living Word from God.

In other words, when I preach scripture faithfully and you hear scripture faithfully its no longer something God spoke long ago, it’s something God speaks, to us, today.

But-

If it’s just a preached word in your earbuds absent the reception of the listening community, then it might be a good talk or a helpful teaching or an inspiring story about something God said but it is not a Word God says.

Sermons in the context of worship are live events not simply because the preacher is preaching in the moment but because this is the event in which the Living God speaks.

Here’s what’s scary in a Post-Christian context where we’re desperate for any level engagement from people:

Without the moral formation alone made possible by liturgical formation the Christians who populate that Post-Christian landscape will never have sufficient characters to be compelling advertisements for the Gospel.

In chapter six of Adam and the Genome Scot McKnight starts by outlining the ancient Near Eastern context of the biblical creation narratives, including those in Genesis 1-3. Several texts have come to light a few in a variety of forms. Scot considers Enuma Elish, Gilgamesh, Atrahasis, and the Sumerian version of the Atrahasis creation story. There are others that could be brought into the discussion as well. The point is not that the biblical authors copied the narratives of the other communities, including Mesopotamia and Egypt, but that many of the ideas contained in the myths were part of the “common knowledge” of the original authors and audience. Some ideas show up in the biblical narratives because they were simply known and others are being explicitly countered and repudiated. Both the similarities and the differences can direct us toward the most important themes in the narrative.

Creation was not the result of a divine battle, with the winner making humans to perform the work the lesser gods despised. Gods do not come and go, they do not hunger, kill each other and assume or lose power. All of these are standard themes in the ancient Near Eastern literature. Marduk, the god of Babylon assumes dominance in many of the stories we have – but not in all. It depends which community was telling the story. The image to the right is Marduk’s symbol animal from Nebuchadnezzar II’s Ishtar Gate in Babylon.

Scot puts forth twelve theses that can help to guide our reading of the biblical creation narratives as the word of God. The first three look at creation, the next seven focus on the role and purpose of humans, while the final two focus on Adam and Eve as individuals.  In this post I want to focus specifically on the first three theses. The others will be covered in subsequent posts.

It is God’s Story.

Scot doesn’t put it quite like this (although I think he’d agree), but I’ve come to believe that the most important point we must remember when reading Scripture is that this is God’s story. The Bible is not a collection of stories of heroes or a record of human accomplishment. In fact, by and large it is a narrative of God’s faithfulness, even in the presence of repeated human failure. Through this narrative we learn what is expected of us, and we find a handful of excellent role models (but fewer than you might expect), but primarily we learn about God’s mission in the world.

The first thesis for reading Genesis 1 in context focuses on God.

God is one, and this God is outside the cosmos, not inside the cosmos as the gods of the ancient Near East are. … Genesis 1-2 are more about God than Adam and Eve or the creation of the world. (p. 119)

The God of Israel, portrayed as creator of the world is profoundly different from the gods of the surrounding cultures. Unlike the warring, worrying, and/or worn out divine pantheon of the ancient Near East, God is in control of creation from beginning to end.

God creates by a word deriving from God’s own sovereign choice. The fundamental event of Genesis 1 is God saying, “Let ther be,” and there is. The waters may be primal chaos, but the waters are easily and simply subdued by God’s own command. … This God is transcendent and exceedingly powerful, exalted above creation and responsible for all of creation; this God, then, is not part of the created order but outside and over the created order. All of the gods of the ancient Near East are eliminated in the theology of Genesis 1, and one supreme God, YHWH, is left standing. (p. 119)

As Christians we can go a step further and connect creation with Jesus, the son as well (1 Cor. 1:24, Col. 1:15-20, Heb. 1:1-4, John 1:1-4).

The second thesis addresses the occasional references to conflict in biblical texts of creation (eg. Ps 74:13-16). Because we wish to take the Bible seriously on its own terms, we will not deny or hide the hints of conflict. However, neither creation nor the man and woman (Adam and Eve) are the result of conflict among the gods. With respect to the passage from Psalm 74, Scot writes:

This is where the principle of respect and honesty come into play: one can suspect that the psalmist is using ancient language to express something he knows better, or one can suspect that the author shared those ideas. Either way, the Bible forms a marvelous parallel with the ancient Near Eastern literature, while it offers a significantly different theology of creation: Israel’s God conquered the forces of evil in creation because those “gods” were not capable of resisting the one true God.

… One need not assume that the ancient Hebrews embraced the fullness of anything like the Tiamat myth when they refereed to Leviathan, but one should at least admit that mythical themes and language have some role in the Bible’s creation accounts. (p. 123)

Scot also refers to Richard Middleton’s work in The Liberating Image. Rather than a conflict motif and a warrior god, we see in Genesis 1 a God who creates as an artist creates. God is a divine artist rather than a divine conqueror. He doesn’t pull out a sword and charge into battle. In fact, if there are hints of conflict in Genesis 1 (sometimes suggested in formless and void), “God conquers not by counter violence but by ordering and creation through his artful work and word.” (p. 124)

The third thesis deals with the purpose of creation. “God orders creation into a temple. Adam and Eve are designed by God to worship and to lead all creation to see its God.” (p. 124) In this view creation out of nothing is not taught or denied in Genesis 1, it simply isn’t terribly important. “Genesis attempts to show not so much that God created the world out of nothing but that God ordered all creation for a purpose.” (p. 124) John Walton and others have emphasized the temple motif and the theme of ordering. (In addition to Walton, The Lost World of Genesis One, The Lost World of Adam and Eve, Scot references Jon Levenson, Creation and the Persistence of Evil, and Bill Arnold, Genesis.)

The earth, then, is not designed as a scene of conflict but a scene of worship. The gods are not fighting for control, because God is in control. All of creation is designed not for humans but for God, and all things on earth are called to worship this one true God. In worship of the one true God, all creation is subdued. (p. 127)

This plays against the narrative of scientific materialism in the twenty first century just as effectively as it did the divine pantheon and myths familiar to the original audience. The earth is not random, without purpose, rather it is created for a purpose – “in worship and service of God, others, and the rest of creation, we enter into God’s purpose for all of creation.” (p. 127)

This is God’s Story. God created out of his own sovereign choice. He didn’t need to subdue a foe to earn the right to create, nothing stands against him. God created as a artist creates a masterpiece. The purpose of creation is the purpose of a temple, a place for worship. All of creation belongs to God.

In what way is God the focus of Scripture?

In what way is he the focus of the creation narratives of Scripture?

If you wish to contact me directly you may do so at rjs4mail [at] att.net.

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By Michelle Van Loon at www.MichelleVanLoon.com and www.ThePerennialGen.com

My friend B. had been a pastor for years before he stepped into the leadership of a parachurch ministry. During his work week, he worked and prayed with dozens of pastors and church leaders interested in transforming their congregations and communities. But on Sundays, he and his wife were invisible members of their own home church.

“It’s not because I’m burned out from my work,” he explained. “If anything, the work has energized me. I’ve offered to serve the pastoral staff in whatever way they need, connect them with resources, or just listen and pray for them – my wife and I have always been used to being an active part of the life of any church we’ve attended. At this church, we attend a small group, and my wife prays with some other women a couple of times a month. That’s it. Frankly, I don’t think they don’t know what to do with us.”

I wondered aloud if maybe the staff felt threatened by his expertise, experience and influence, instead of welcoming the gifts the couple wanted to offer to their local body. After all, having a former pastor in the pews might carry an intimidation factor for some; kind of like having Tom Brady quarterbacking your Pop Warner football team.

I had been at the church for 4 or 5 years at this point – long enough to demonstrate he and his wife didn’t have any ulterior motives. “I don’t have any desire for any sort of position in this church, and they respect that. I think it’s simply a matter of them being so wrapped up in their own interpersonal dynamics and church politics that they simply overlook us.”

We had the conversation as B. and family were preparing to make a cross-country move to join the pastoral staff of a megachurch at the express invitation of an old friend. It dawned on me as he reflected on his experience here in the Chicago area that the most important thing he might be bringing with him to his new job was the experience of being overlooked. I pointed out that he and his wife had a bridge into a ready-made community as he became a part of a close-knit staff. Their gifts and experience were being honored by the invitation, and he knew they’d both be valued and freed to do the kinds of ministry God had wired them to do within the church and in the surrounding neighborhoods beyond the four walls of the church.

“There are many people in your new church who are in the very same marginalized position you’ve occupied during your time here in Chicago,” I told him. “Never, ever forget that. Please look for them.”

* * * * * * *

There has been a lot of talk in recent years in our culture about the notion of racial, social or financial privilege. One basic theme of many of the discussions is the blindness we have to our own power and entitlement. Our blinders tend to come off only when they’re yanked off by a crisis or loss of some kind. I think the discussion about the nature and effect of privilege is healthy for us all because it may encourage some to choose to see without being forced into it by a traumatic experience of some kind.

Jesus willingly laid aside his position of privilege in order to invite people who knew they were on the margins into relationship with the Father by the Spirit, inviting all of us to join him at the table he himself has set for us, the ultimate picture of fellowship and community. His kingdom on earth as it is in heaven means we who are at this table together are empowered to practice this counter-cultural way of life here and now.

Most of us are occupied trying to get our needs met for belonging and significance. Those needs are really important! God himself wired us that way. When a church staff, each holding positions of social privilege within that small community, are focused on their own “interpersonal dynamics and church politics”, it communicates that they might be focused on getting their needs for belonging and significance met. The experience B. had in the church gave him a new way to think about how he’d functioned in his previous role as pastor. Though he was a very others-focused, servant-hearted guy, he recognized he’d succumbed to the temptation to form and hoard a clique around himself so he could get those needs of his met.

They never quite seemed to be. Few people exist that are secure enough in their relationship with God and others to recognize what they already possess in terms of positions of power or social privilege.

Perhaps a training-wheels way to practice this reality in our local churches is this very week is for each of us to take a few moments to assess the way in which we typically think about our network of relationships. Maybe instead of thinking about what we’re lacking in our relationships with others, which puts our insecurities, fears and jealousies in the drivers’ seat, it might help to take stock of what we already possess. Even if what we possess seems very invisible and insignificant, and our personal sense of need is pretty big. (And yes, I know even busy church leaders who are at the social center of their congregation’s solar system, struggle with the same sense of “not enough” in their relationships.) As we do, I think we might see those God has placed around us in a whole new light. Blinders off. Privilege used to draw a couple of extra chairs up to the table.

By Kelly Ladd Bishop, from Arise

Kelly holds an MDiv, and a BA in biology. She spent seven years working in youth ministry, and has most recently worked as an associate pastor. She preaches, teaches, writes, speaks, and mentors teens, and is passionate about exploring God’s Word and issues of faith and culture. She is a Huffington Post contributor and blogs at www.kellyladdbishop.com.

The word “submission” elicits a strong and often negative reaction in our culture. For many, it provokes images of oppression, slavery, or abuse. Submitting sounds like giving in, or giving up. But submission has always been an important part of Christian theology. After all, salvation flows through Christ’s submission to God on the cross.

When Christian egalitarians argue that God does not intend for women to submit to men in all sit uations at all times, or for wives to always submit to husbands, we are often accused of failing to practice Christian submission of any kind. Egalitarian women just want power, some accuse. We want to be “like men.” We want to avoid all the negatives images that “submission” conjures, so we run from it.

But Christian egalitarians don’t hate submission. We love submission. In fact, our faith is built not only on Christ’s submission on the cross but on our submission to God, to Scripture, and to our sisters and brothers in Christ. We part ways with complementarians over the definition of biblical submission. Let’s start by defining what biblical submission is not.

Biblical submission is not:

Subjecting ourselves to abuse

Each person on earth has infinite value as an image bearer of the almighty God. The Bible does not call anyone, man or woman, to submit to any type of abuse—physical, spiritual, sexual, or emotional. Calls to submit to abuse for a season or to stay in an abusive situation are not biblical, and moreover, are not from the heart of God.

Following without question

Romans 12:2 reads “Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.” God does not ask us to blindly submit to others without question. Instead, we are to be transformed by the renewing of our minds. We are to seek God’s will above any human’s will because God’s will is always good, pleasing, and perfect. Biblical submission never asks us to follow any leader, pastor, spouse, or person without question. And biblical submission never asks us to ignore our best spiritual judgment simply because a leader, pastor, spouse, or any person directs us elsewhere. God’s will is good and pleasing—Scripture invites all believers to test that.

Based on gender, race, or social status

The Bible does not teach that we must submit to people of a certain gender, race, or social status. In fact, it teaches the exact opposite. The ground is level at the foot of the cross. Galatians 3:28–29 reads “There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.” This idea is central to our new life in Christ; all believers have the position and authority of heirs. The family of Christ stands on level ground.

Biblical submission is something quite different.

Biblical submission is:

Mutual

Biblical submission is mutual submission—the foundation of Christian community. After teaching Ephesian Christians about unity in the body of Christ and living as Christians, Paul writes: “Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ” (Eph. 5:21). He then goes on to address the Greco-Roman household codes, which demanded the submission of wives, children, and slaves to husbands, parents, and masters. Paul shines the radical light of Christ on these codes, transforming them with a mandate for mutual submission (v. 21), and a call to unity through and with Christ. Mutual submission was a radical concept for Paul’s audience, but biblical submission is rooted in our identity as image bearers of God and our status as joint heirs with Christ. While the cultural norms of many cultures and communities often give power to one group or another, Paul reminds us that we are all part of the body of Christ and we submit to one another.

Bearing good fruit

The will of God bears good fruit: “A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit” (Matt. 7:18). Biblical submission will bring forth love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Gal. 5:22). It will honor the image of God in each person and help him or her to pursue his or her calling in Christ. When we submit to each other as Christ leads in each circumstance, we are walking in the perfect will of God and we will bear good fruit. Submission that bears bad fruit is not biblical submission.

Centered on Christ

Biblical submission always pulls us toward the cross. The cross points to an upside-down, inside-out gospel ethic. The power of Christ comes in weakness and eternal life comes through Christ’s death. Submission requires us to give up power. Whether our power is physical, social, or economic, we all have to let go of our strength at times.

When we demand power based on gender or any other social identity, we are not living in the example of Christ. Christian egalitarians believe that we are called to different roles based on the gifts we have been given by Christ through the Holy Spirit. And we submit to each other based on those gifts, as Christ directs. “Christ himself gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the pastors and teachers” (Eph. 4:11). Submission is always centered on Christ and never on gender.

Christian egalitarians love biblical submission because it is part of God’s perfect will. It reflects the love of Christ. It uplifts and honors the gifts and calling of others. It unifies and glorifies. It bears very good fruit. Christian egalitarians believe that wives should submit to husbands, and that husbands should submit to wives. We believe that biblical submission strengthens marriages and fosters stronger mutual partnerships. And we celebrate the inevitable result of cross-centered submission: good fruit, deeper love, more joy, and greater faithfulness.