Original Revelation

Last Sunday I preached a sermon entitled “Cosmos.” My scripture text was the first chapter of Genesis, but the topic was prompted by the recent television show “Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey,” hosted by astrophysicist Neil DeGrasse Tyson. The 2014 show is a remake of Carl Sagan’s 1980 PBS series “Cosmos: A Personal Voyage.”

I have some reservations about the new series, which I shared in a previous blog (Disappointing Cosmos). But my love for science overcame my distaste for the anti-religious bias that ran throughout the series. I watched every episode. The story of the origin of the universe and life on earth has always filled me with awe. It is a spiritual experience for me.

Therefore it was natural for me to preach about it from the pulpit. Although I did not directly address the creationism-evolution debate, it was clear to members of my congregation that I was not a young earth, seven-day creationist. I believe in the biblical doctrine of Creation, not the modern "science” of Creationism.

The point of my sermon (and every sermon ought to have at least one) is that there is no contradiction between science and religion. At least there should not be any disagreement. In actuality there has been much conflict between the two from the very beginning of modern science.

Nowhere is that disagreement more pronounced than in the area of origins – both cosmic and human. My sermon prompted more than the usual number of comments, both immediately afterwards and in the week following the service. One man pronounced me “brave” to preach such a sermon.

The ongoing discussion of this topic in my congregation has caused me to ponder more thoroughly the relationship between faith and science. I have come to the conclusion that the key element of a Christian understanding of science is to view Nature as Holy Scripture, which is read in the language of science.

God spoke the Old Testament in Hebrew. He spoke the New Testament in Greek. He spoke – and continues to speak - the Oldest Testament in Creation itself. God recorded the history of the earth in the rocks. He recorded the origins of life in the fossil record and DNA. He recorded the origins of the universe in light captured by the Hubble telescope. God speaks to us through science.

The only way we can understand the Biblical account of creation correctly is by interpreting it in light of the older revelation of God in Nature. The Biblical revelation cannot contradict the Original revelation. If our interpretation of Genesis contradicts known scientific facts, then we are interpreting Scripture wrongly.

The authority of Scripture is important for Christians. We call it the Word of God. The Word of God recorded in Nature should be just as authoritative for Christians. To reject the voice of God in creation is to reject the authority of the Creator.

Are School Shootings God’s Will?

There was another school shooting recently. They happen too often.  It makes me glad that the school year is coming to a close. This time it was at Seattle Pacific University, a Christian college of 4,000 students.

After the shooting, Frank Spina, a professor of Biblical Studies at the college, spoke to students at a prayer service. He said, "There's no explaining it. This is not God's plan. This is not God's will. This is not God's way of teaching us a lesson."

I applaud this professor for being honest with the students. He resisted the temptation to mouth comforting clichés, which are so often proffered at such times. No appealing to God’s mysterious ways. No insisting that atrocities are really blessings in disguise, divine good appearing as human evil. He refused to feed his students the spiritual pabulum so often repeated at funerals of shooting victims.

Recently at a Bible Study that I lead, one of the participants shared his struggle with the repeated commands of God in the Old Testament to kill all the inhabitants of some cities, including children and infants and even animals.

Personally I find the issue of violence against innocents to be the most serious challenge to the Christian worldview. That is true whether I find it in the pages of the Bible or the headlines of the newspaper. Paradoxically this issue has also been for me an opening into God’s presence.

Evil and suffering cannot be explained away by theological gymnastics. We can’t blame it on the devil or write it off as man’s free will. God commands things in the Bible that we would call evil when ordered by human commanders today. We call it genocide and label the perpetrator a war criminal.

Whenever mass killings of innocent people happen in our world today, we must admit – at the very least - that God has permitted them to happen. God could stop them if he wanted. After all God is omnipotent.

In Seattle a heroic student named Jon Meis stopped the shooter with pepper spray, and held the murderer in a headlock until help arrived. Thereby he saved many lives. Why didn’t God do as much?  And don’t tell me God sent Jon Meis to do it for him! That is a copout.

It is important to ask this question. Ask it deeply and repeatedly. Go further than the professor at SPU. He said that this shooting was not God’s will or God’s plan. What are the implications of that statement?

Does that mean that it was beyond God’s control? That God was helpless to stop it? If so, then how can we call him omnipotent? If he is not all-powerful, then why call him God? (This is how the ancient philosopher Epicurus phrased the issue 300 years before Christ.)

If we believe God is all-powerful then we have to admit that nothing can happen apart from God’s will. God either permits or causes such tragedies. What does that say about God? Is God all-powerful but not good? (Again this is Epicurus’ phrase.) If he is not good, then he is not God – at least not the Christian God.

So what is the answer? The solution is to keep asking this question and not let go. Do not let God off the hook or defend him. Do not justify his actions in the Scriptures or current events. Do not look for ethical loopholes. Wrestle with God like Jacob. Argue with him like Job. If we ruthlessly stay with the question, it will take us into the heart of God.

If we refuse to drop the issue, we are eventually propelled beyond religious sophistry into the very Being of God. Like Job we meet God in the Cloud of Unknowing. We experience the Truth that includes all things and encompasses all events. God is experienced inexplicably as Unconditional Love.

The question holds the answer. It is the eye of the needle. It is the strait way and the narrow gate into the Kingdom of God. It is the door of heaven. It is the Way, the Truth and the Life. Seek and we shall find. Knock and the door shall be opened.

Jesus is my Guru

Oh, that title is going to get some people “harrumphing!” But the word guru is just the Indian term for teacher and master. Jesus’ disciples called him Rabbi, because that was the culture in which they lived. Jewish spiritual teachers were called rabbi. Rabbi means literally “my teacher” in Hebrew. People call me pastor or reverend because that is the Christian custom. Even the term Christ is a title, not Jesus’ last name.

These days much of the language of American spirituality is cross-cultural. Many of those interested in spiritual matters use the language of the East. To say “Jesus is my Lord and Savior” does not speak to them. When they read those words all they hear is Western cultural religious conservatism. They cannot see beyond the words.  If they saw those words in the title of a blog, they would not click on the link. But the words “Jesus is my guru” might make the blog worth a second look.

On the other hand, many Christians will reject out of hand any Christian preacher who uses the term guru – for much the same reasons that non-Christians will reject the word Savior. It is outside their religious comfort zone. So it all depends on whom I am speaking to. I have done enough preaching to the choir in my lifetime, so I will risk the scorn of the Christian thought police and say things a little differently.

Jesus is my Guru. Devotees of Indian gurus will display a photo of their teacher. Buddhists have little buddhas decorating their home and garden.  Catholics will have photos of popes or pictures of Mary or their favorite saint. I have an icon of Christ as Teacher. It is not hanging on my wall, but appears on my tablet. I view it every morning during my devotions. It reminds me who my Lord is.

I am a Christian, but I cannot relate to traditional Sunday School paintings of Jesus or contemporary depictions of a smiley Christ. But I find the icons of Orthodoxy fascinating. So I use an icon of Christ to remind me of my Lord, while I read and pray.

Much of my spiritual practice involves a transcendent approach to God. In contemplation my persona drops away in the silent presence of the superpersonal Godhead. I do more meditation than intercession these days. Yet there is a part of me that is not touched by God in that manner.

My heart loves the Personhood of God. Jesus is God in a Person. Jesus is my Guru.  I love Him. I am unconditionally devoted to Christ. I trust no other teacher or leader. My soul rejoices in the presence of Christ. He is the Way, the Truth and the Life. He is the gate to God, the door to heaven. For any Christians who are still reading this: Christ is my Lord, my God, and my Savior.

Life’s Transient Dream

I forget who I am regularly. It happens every day.

No, I did not get hit on the head, nor am I in a fugue state. I did not mistake my daily multivitamin for an Ambien tablet. Neither am I suffering from some form of dementia – at least not yet.

My forgetfulness is quite normal. Spiritual amnesia is the normal waking state of most humans. The only way I know I was sleepwalking through life was because I woke up one day, and I have been waking up ever since.

I am most fully conscious twice each day – in the early morning and early evening. This is when I do my spiritual practice of prayer and meditation. But wakefulness continues as an undercurrent throughout the day - like the sound of a nearby brook always present in the background, if I pay attention.

I wake up most clearly in the evening when I devote myself to an extended time of quiet prayer. I get on my knees, close my eyes and surrender myself to God. The thoughts of my busy mind gradually drift away, and I awaken from the dream of life. It is like going to sleep, only in reverse. It is waking from normal wakefulness.

I remember who I am again. My temporary amnesia clears, and I wonder at how I could have forgotten what is real. As the hymn says, then “ends life’s transient dream.” God is present. Christ is present. But I am not. As the apostle wrote, “It is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me.”

The roles I play during the day slip off like clothing. My name has nothing to attach itself to. My carefully constructed personality is nothing more than a song in the air. There is only the unconditional love of God.

This is eternal life. This is the Kingdom of God. This is the Father’s House. It is our heavenly home. How could we ever forget?

A Vision of Jesus

A vision occurred during worship in church the other Sunday. Just like the ones you read about in the Bible. I was preaching a post-Easter sermon on the famous story of the risen Christ appearing to two of his disciples on the Emmaus Road. While I was preaching, Jesus visibly stood behind me.

I did not see him, but a woman in the congregation did. She shared it with me privately afterwards. She explained that while she was listening to me proclaim the invisible presence of Christ in our midst, suddenly Christ appeared in the pulpit next to me in “a spiritual form.”

This is not a lady given to religious excesses. Indeed I would describe her as just the opposite. She does not come from a denominational background prone to this sort of thing. Neither do I. Yet she found it difficult not to interrupt the worship service and point out to everyone that Jesus was up at the pulpit.

My sermon for that Sunday was appropriately entitled “Hidden in Plain Sight.”

It has been many days now since this happened, and I have shared this with no one besides my wife. I have hesitated to share this with the congregation. But I got permission from the visionary to retell her story here. Perhaps it will edify others like it edified me.

When she told me what she had seen in church that morning, my heart was immediately warmed – just like the disciples described their experience on the Emmaus Road. I thanked her and told her that she had blessed me greatly by sharing this vision with me. It has been blessing me ever since.

Personally I do not consider myself to be the type of person who needs external confirmations of my inward spiritual awareness of God. I know that Christ is with me. I sense the Presence of God. But it is nice to get confirmation once in a while. Thanks, Jesus.

To Be or Not To Be

At our Maundy Thursday service, the passion narrative was read from the Gospel of John. As the story of Jesus’ arrest, trial and crucifixion was read aloud, candles were gradually extinguished, plunging the congregation into total darkness.

This year the worship service coincided perfectly with sunset, and so the light coming through the high windows dimmed as the light in the church dimmed. The darkness was broken at the end of the service by relighting a single candle, representing Christ’s resurrection.

It is one of my favorite services of the year. It is also one of the few worship services where I do not have to preach. The whole service is scripture and music. Therefore I was open to hear the biblical story without having my mind preoccupied with what I was going to preach.

I did not follow along in my Bible as I often do when scripture is read.  I simply listened to the story. Two passages collided with each other in my heart: Christ’s confession in the Garden of Gethsemane, and the counterpoint of Peter’s denial in the courtyard.

The authorities came to the garden to arrest Jesus. They asked for him by name, and he responded, “I am he.” This is where it is good to have studied Greek. I have read this passage in the original language, and I know that literally Jesus says simply, “I am.”

Jesus is making reference to the name of God given to Moses at the Burning Bush in Exodus. It is a theme that runs throughout the Gospel of John. Jesus is “I AM.” Jesus was asserting his identity with the Divine, which is why those who came to arrest him recoiled at his words.

Later in the courtyard of the High Priest, the disciple Peter is asked if he is a follower of Jesus. He responds, “I am not.” It was the contrast of these two different responses that struck me so powerfully during that candlelight communion service.

Being versus Non-being. They are both here. Christ is “I am.” In Christ I share his Being. My existence is the extension of God’s Being. I exist only by the grace of God. I have no independent existence apart from God. “I AM” is the core of my essential nature in Christ.

But the void of Non-being lurks in the shadows. With Peter we think “I am not.” This is the daily experience of most people. Most humans are lost in non-being. They do not live in the Beingness of God but in the denial of their essential nature as human “beings.” To use the language of the story, we deny Christ and thereby deny our relationship to God.

“To be or not to be,” questioned Hamlet. Christ made one choice, and Peter made the other. Ultimately it is not really a choice. It is acknowledging what is true, or a denial of it. Jesus said, “I AM the Way, the Truth, and the Life.”

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Art is “To Be Or Not To Be” by Chris Kontogeorgos

Cross Purposes

Holy Week is a time to contemplate the suffering and death of Jesus. I confess that it is a difficult time for me for a number of reasons. The first reason is that I take it very seriously. Many Christians and churches do not take it seriously these days.

Recently I read an announcement about a church in nearby community that is having a potluck supper on Good Friday that promises to be “a fun time” with “amazing food.” Call me a traditionalist if you want, but that does not capture the spirit of Good Friday for me. Good Friday used to be a day of fasting and prayer. A day that commemorates the torture and death of Jesus deserves more respect.

The second reason that Holy Week is difficult for me is the way the Cross is theologically interpreted in churches. I have studied the theology of the Cross. I have read the theories of the atonement. Most of them deal with some type of heavenly transaction involving sin and divine retribution. Some theories talk about the wrath of God being poured out on Jesus on the cross.

Many churches believe some form of “penal substitutionary atonement.” God punishes Jesus for our sins. I am traditional enough to believe that “Christ died for me.” But I don’t get into the idea of a vengeful deity taking out his anger on an innocent man. The idea of a wrathful Heavenly Father torturing and killing his own Son sounds like something out of a horror flick. It is not worthy of a God of love.

I see Jesus more like a hero laying down his life for others. When I preach the Cross I use analogies of soldiers dying in battle (in this case a spiritual battle), firefighters dying to save people in danger, or police officers dying in the line of duty. The heroic spirit seems more worthy of my Lord than some type of judicial game played by God, Satan, and Christ.

The third reason the Cross is not easy for me to contemplate is because I see myself there. It brings me face to face with my own mortality. The Cross is a powerful spiritual symbol of the end of my physical existence and the death of my separate self.

The apostle Paul says, “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.” That verse represents my experience and my best understanding of the Cross.

In the end, even this understanding falls short. The Cross is a mystery. The more I contemplate it, the more I am humbled by the depth and power of it. It is worth devoting a few days of Holy Week to. It is worth devoting Good Friday to. It is worth devoting my whole life to.