A POTENTIAL RECALL ON MY TESTS

I’ve been reconsidering the two diagnostic tests I offered below; I’m concerned that they may be misunderstood. It would be especially ironic if a test, which was meant to encourage “spiritual health,” sent people down the most popular bad habit in Western Christendom: transactionalism.

We put all sorts of prices on God’s favor. The check-ups weren't meant to say “Those other guy's costs are ridiculous; Come see our more enlightened rates!” No; not at all. The items listed were meant to be included in the Owners Manual- not on the Sales Sticker.

In each of the quizzes, God’s preemptive love and forgiveness are assumed. They both came in Jesus Christ.

"For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people." Titus 2:11 (ESV)

It seems to me that Spiritual health isn’t about securing or keeping his love and forgiveness. Rather it’s about more fully enjoying and understanding that love and forgiveness. Spiritual growth is about truly knowing the one God-Who-Is and the creation that reflects his eternal existence as Giver, Gift, and Gifting. The proposed check-ups were meant to help me discover whether growth in that "awareness" was taking place.

Spiritual maturity is about seeing reality as it really is… and feasting in it. It is not about having the right change for the Divine Vending Machine. Knowing (in the most biblical, incarnational, nuptial sense) is the point, not obedience.

Thank you Michael for reminding me.

CREED BY THE SEAT OF MY PANTS

Everything below this paragraph comes from over at Too Wonderful For Me. HT to Tim at Taliesan. He's being added to my Blog List.

Ever since the early saints came up with the Apostle’s and Nicene creeds, various parties in the church have attempted to summarize biblical truth for various reasons. The longer history went on, the longer the creeds got. Here’s one of my own, done with no forethought whatsoever. It’s very long, because I’m so late in history.

Mairnéalach’s Creed

God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit are friends. They’re also one, which breaks several rules, but they do that sort of thing a lot.

One of their favorite things to do is make stuff. God thought up the universe and everything in it, including people. He let Jesus do all the building because Jesus enjoys building. This makes sense, because my little boy loves building and Jesus is God’s little boy. I get a kick out of watching my little boy build, so I imagine God gets a kick out of watching Jesus build.

It’s dumb to talk about God too much without mentioning Jesus, because it’s like waxing eloquent about your wife’s brain without mentioning the other bits you like about her. Besides, since they’re one, you can get to know God by getting to know Jesus, which is a handy arrangement. There’s no such thing as “pure God” without Jesus, but if there was, he’d be too boring to want to know anyway.

Jesus loves the universe and the people he made. A few of the cool things he made are octopuses, cattle, pill bugs, grapes, cypress trees, and red giants. Some of the cool people he made are grandmas, five year olds, wives, and that crocodile guy who sadly died.

Jesus enjoys making stuff so much that he built that into us, too. Some of the stuff we like making are calamari, steaks, chardonnay, two by fours, and atom smashers. The coolest things to make are the things we make in cahoots with other people, like babies with your wife, cartoons, and laughs which come from tickling five year olds.

Jesus also made some people that we don’t understand very well. They’re called angels. Just like us, he made them to be his friends, but some of them mistrusted Jesus, and they became demons. They fight Jesus. The worst one is named Satan.

The first man Jesus made like himself was Adam. Since Adam is so much like Jesus, he needed a friend, just like Jesus needs God and the Holy Spirit. Therefore, Jesus made Eve for him. Woo-hoo! Jesus made a safe haven for them, away from the war.

Adam and Eve mistrusted Jesus one day. When they did that, they died. Well, their spirits died immediately, but their bodies lingered for quite a while. Even though Satan was largely responsible for this, the punishment was fair. Every man since Adam has shared in this sadness. Everybody knows they deserve it.

Mistrusting Jesus started a chain reaction in man’s history which resulted in a huge amount of misery. We’re basically right in the middle of the war now. This shows up in such things as dictators, bombs, AIDS, and divorce.

Even though Adam’s betrayal brought sadness, Jesus let him keep an incredible amount of happiness. Things like jobs, friends, dancing, whisky, sailboats, stories, and symphonies are a few examples of this. It wasn’t exactly fair of Jesus to do this for Adam, but Jesus really isn’t very fair.

Since the whole point of man was for him to trust God, many men started saying that God had failed at his task. This is a classic example of what psychologists call “projection”. It’s also what writers call “grim irony”. Much of history is a record of these fools being hoist on their own petard. Jesus even said that he hated such men, and that if they didn’t change, he would let them rot forever. Those people say it’s not very fair of Jesus to say such things (or that he never really said them, which is just another variation of saying they’re not fair), but Jesus really isn’t very fair.

Jesus started making new people who trusted him. He started with a man named Abraham. Abraham was grandpa to millions of people who trusted Jesus. This process required several events which were, quite frankly, impossible. Yet, they happened anyway. Jesus, who likes to teach using comedy, eventually named this mob of people “Israel”, which means “people who fight with me”.

Jesus’s favorite people were always the ones who trusted him the most. Abraham, Jacob, Isaac, and Joseph are some great examples. Moses and Joshua are others. David was a particularly great one. Jesus really, really loved David. David was an amazing man, and a jerk, and he wrote incredible poems.

All throughout this process, Jesus kept smuggling in people from outside of Israel, and making them honorary Israelites. This wasn’t really a fair thing for Jesus to do, but Jesus isn’t really fair.

Jesus kept telling his people that he would save them. One of Jesus’s usual methods for saving them was by letting them go through terrible trials, usually to teach them not to be jerks.

As things were coming to the biggest crisis yet for the Israelites, Jesus did something very, very good. He came and lived with them in person. This involved him being a baby. That must have really tickled him to no end. He made a lot of best friends and forgave sins. He also got to make two by fours and wine by hand instead of trees and grapes by speaking, which also must have tickled him to no end.

He was also holy. So holy, in fact, that he made the holiest people in Israel look like complete jerks, which is what they were. They hated that, so they killed him. His best friends weren’t much help when this happened. The jerks enjoyed the show, but the friends were just paralyzed and in complete despair. Perhaps they were thinking about what big jerks they were themselves.

While he was dead, Jesus went to hell and did something nobody understands. It was a secret commando mission. The net result was something like planting a time bomb there.
Jesus came alive again. By doing so, he showed his friends that his own father, God, had personally approved his execution. This was not very fair for God to do, but God isn’t really fair.

The jerks immediately did everything they could to get people to ignore this.

Jesus left from our earth, but before he left, he sent the Holy Spirit to keep us company and empower us to be brave and laugh. Nobody really understands the Holy Spirit much, except for the fact that he allows people to be brave and laugh, and he seems to be heavily involved in war, quantum mechanics, and baby making, among other things.

He told us he’d be back, and gave us a list of things to do. He told us that if someone really wants to leave jerkdom behind, and if they really trust he saved them by dying on the cross, then they’re his people. Period. He gave us two gifts to help display what he was doing, one of which is his baptism, and the other of which is his thanksgiving supper.

Since that day, his people have been fighting among themselves about who “has” better baptisms and thanksgiving suppers. We completely forgot that those things belong to him, not to us. Since we love fighting with him so much, it only makes sense we would love fighting with each other so much. His people, Israel, are pretty much the best empirical proof that the cross is necessary. It’s not very fair for Jesus to endure this kind of thing, but Jesus isn’t very fair.


Footnotes

One of the intriguing things about Jesus is that he has testicles. Some people don’t like this, but it’s a fact. He was a man, not a woman. However, he didn’t mistreat women, like jerks do. He made best friends with them, treated them grandly, and even died for them. So, anyone else who has testicles must do the same, if they want to be a real man like Jesus.

Jesus was a jerk himself sometimes. However, he was a jerk because he loved people and wanted to break their hearts. Most men are just jerks, period.

Did I mention that Jesus invented making babies?

The most awesome thing about creeds is that they help people praise Jesus. Other than that, if you have one printed on paper they’re good for kindling, or wiping your butt.

Man’s biggest problem is that he thinks he invented fair. But he didn’t, God did. For example, God hates judges who condemn innocent people. Yet, God condemned Jesus. That isn’t fair, but we have no evidence to suggest that God hates himself; quite the contrary, actually. Therefore, sometimes the best way man can honor God is just to shut up and let God decide how things are.

TAKING JESUS TO A TOGA PARTY

It used to get you thrown to a hungry lion or smeared with tar and set alight over an emperor’s garden bench; now it’s as ubiquitous and harmless as sneezing. Come to think of it, it’s actually less harmful than sneezing, because sneezing might make others sick or embarrass you with its viscous aftermath. But calling the Christ “Lord,”…well, what could be more natural.

My kids do it daily at prayer. So do their young apostatizing acquaintances. Presidents speak of “the Lord." Actors and business men reference “the Lord”. The name is thrown out in Sitcom’s, standup comedy acts, sporting events and water cooler conversations.

Regularly. Daily. Often, and yet no jailer appears with hungry felines in tow. There’s little people-burnin’ going on. Few heads roll for it. I wonder why?

I suspect it’s because the phrase has become simply a name- a moniker like Joe or Sally. Little offence, there. But for the early church, “Lord” was first and foremost a title. There may be many Joes or Sallys.... or even Lords, but there can only be one LORD…by definition, you see.

The ancient world already had a claimant. Caesar, and the entire empire built around him, declared him to be Lord of Lords and King of Kings. He was the Savior of the World. In him was found its hope of security and fruitfulness. He, and he alone, required ultimate allegiance. Hundreds of competing religions existed- each at peace with the Roman Emperor.

Why weren’t devotees of Isis fed to the beasts? The answer’s simple. They poised no threat to the Roman Lord's... how would you say it, Lordship. They could worship and bow and incense all day long, but when push came to shove, Caesar ran things.

He was Lord.

Well, he just was. It was a no-brainer. One only had to look around at the glory and achievements of the Pax Romana to see that it was so.

What Caesar did, worked. Period.

To the backwards hooligans of Europe, Asia Minor and Africa, Rome had brought peace (insert bloody gurgling sound)…and prosperity (insert crack of whip) and…law (insert fat lecherous Senator’s laugh). It had been done. It was being done. It was fact.

Against the obvious, the early church dared imagine the world in a different way. Jesus, the crucified King of Israel, was the one who was actually running things. Really, that’s what they said. He was the source of security and fruitfulness- even Rome's own. He was the world’s savior. Caesar had better get down on his knees and do some serious toe kissing.

Now that’s the sort of thing that will get you turned into cat chow.

In a very real sense, I think it was easier for our ancient brothers and sisters to be faithful to their baptisms. They understood who their God’s competition was. He was that other dude- the one who claimed the title of “god.” The Kingdom of the Christ was in opposition with that other entity- the one everyone referred to as “the Empire.”

Faithfulness was clearly defined. Either the kingdoms of this world had become the kingdoms of our God or…they had not. It was simply a matter of choosing Caesar and his empire or Christ and his. One was a pretender, but which one?

The early church had a firm opinion on the matter. Other religions got on swimmingly with the Roman sovereign. They met and talked about “going to heaven when you die.” Caesar couldn’t give a rat’s rear end where they went after they died. He just wanted the honorific, economic and militaristic cooperation of those individuals; after that they could go anywhere they wanted- to hell for all he cared.

Good thing we haven’t an emperor today. Right? There is no expanding world-dominating and uniting power. There is no common story that molds the lives of geographically diverse people so powerfully that no one can imagine things differently. Nothing claims our faith and hope for security and prosperity. Christians and non-Christians live for exactly the same things, goals and ends because….the life advocated by Jesus of Nazareth is the only one on the market (and it's pure random coincidence that I chose an economic metaphor just then). True progress is measured in terms of responsibility, justice, sacrifice, contentment, fidelity and mercy. Right?

As followers of Christ we are to show forth the possibility of life lived as our God would live it, and this in stark distinction to the life of other gods. We are necessary to the world as a reminder to them of whom they truly are as human beings.

But many congregations struggle over what the church’s role really is. That’s because we’re blind to the powers that enslave human persons and society’s imagination. There are no powers. Only people and choices. The subterfuge has been so successful that we can not even imagine life lived another way. With the pitiful god’s of history, we bring our little plaster Jesus and bow to the obvious power, glory and promise of the Pax Americana, limitless markets, consumption, technology and convenience.

We go about earnestly hawking our dualist religion. “If you died tonight, do you know where you’d spend eternity,” we ask those passing by. Caesar rises from his throne of golden arches. We are truly humbled. He takes off his mouse-eared crown and helps us to our feet. “I can help you get that message out,” he offers, and we and our plastic Jesus bow with true thankfulness.

STILL TAKING A BREAK...BUT

I still don't plan on posting til next month, but I ran across this post by the Internet Monk. It's good stuff and interacts with two of my favorite "reads": NT Wright and Robert Farrar Capon. Check it out

TRINITY SUNDAY

Our God isn’t a problem to be solved, nor an enigmatic knot to be untied. Too many Trinity Sunday sermons give exactly that impression. Rather, our God is love. That is the message of Trinity Sunday.

It’s not simply that our God chooses to love. It’s not merely that our God is loving. The Christian gospel makes credible a much more glorious message- ultimate reality has always been, is now and ever shall be, communal and self-giving.

Our Triune God has never been alone... ever, and He exists by pouring himself into another. He is love.

Love is more than the commanded end toward which we all strain. Love is the beginning and root of reality itself. Take away "complete and total self-giving," and our God would cease to exist. This is not because we’d be getting his character wrong, but rather because without everlasting self-giving there would be no eternally begotten Word of the Father and no eternal procession of the Son's Spirit.

God would not be a Father; he'd be a hermit instead, and the One revealed in the face of Christ would not exist.

To Christians everywhere, a god without love isn’t a matter of mistaken identity; it’s a matter of divine stillbirth.

This is the truth we are meant to remember on Trinity Sunday- true glory and power, Godlike glory and power, consists in individuals living in, for and through each other.

Of course, this is the truth that the whole of the Christian year holds up to us. From Advent to Whitsunday- this is the truth. But on this Sunday- after the whole story has been told- we finally see the eternal spiraling relationship, which makes the helpless creature's exaltation almost a hope from the very beginning.

If you only knew my God, then perhaps the gospel wouldn't come as a surprise. Not because it's any less amazing or gracious, but because he's never been stingy with himself.

That's just the way he is...literally.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost; As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, World without end. Amen.

ASCENSION DAY- PART TWO

Part One Here

"In Christ your Son, our life and yours are brought together in a wonderful exchange. He made his home among us that we might forever dwell in you."
Scottish BCP

When I think of Mount Sinai and the giving of the law, I always picture Cecil B DeMill’s version in The Ten Commandments.

I can’t help it.

The peak of the mountain can’t be seen. It’s swallowed up by the tremendous cloud that’s gathered there. There’s rumbling and lighting flashes. All very foreboding. Mr. DeMill did a pretty good job, actually. How do you do justice to God’s Throne room?

Throughout scripture God’s ruling presence manifests itself as a Cloud of Glory. There is more going on here than condensation. Just as a part of the atmosphere may break off from the boundary of the water’s surface and float about in the liquid world below, the constantly present (but hidden) dimension of God’s habitation bubbles into sight and hovers about before our senses.

That’s what going on up there amidst the crashing and flashing on the mountain top- God is present in his regal power and glory. In fact the rumbling is attributed to the thousands of angels that surround His throne. (Psalm 68:15-17) God drove this chariot cloud before the Israelites in the wilderness. His fiery glow illuminated it by night. The tabernacle and temple were both replica’s- complete with angelic representations. It came and settled on these meeting places (Exodus 40:34-35, 1 Kings 8.10, 11) so fully that the priests could not enter. Isaiah once entered the temple and bent his knee amidst Israel’s impressive mock-up. The sound of massive beating wings replaced the temple silence and horrified, he raised his head to find himself in the reality itself. He was inside the cloud and God was on the throne before him. (Isaiah 6).

Ezekial saw it.

Pharaoh felt its heat as it dropped between his armies and the children of Israel at the Red Sea.

The shepherds of Bethlehem were surrounded by it at our saviour’s birth, and now the risen Lord is lifted up into it.

Our Lord’s ascension was into God’s ruling presence. Daniel described the scene in a passage that is regularly misapplied to the Second Coming. (Notice: The Son of Man is going up to God- not down from him.)

Daniel 7:13-14 I saw in the night visions, and, behold, one like the Son of man came with the clouds of heaven, and came to the Ancient of days, and they brought him near before him. And there was given him dominion, and glory, and a kingdom, that all people, nations, and languages, should serve him: his dominion is an everlasting dominion, which shall not pass away, and his kingdom that which shall not be destroyed.

This is what happened before God's throne on that Thursday almost two-thousand years ago. Christ- the Son of Man- was given the crown of the universe.

This seems so common place that we miss it- Christ is King.

But think it through. What’s new? Our God has always been God. At the very least this means that he has always ruled. What changed on this Thursday?

Man had come of age. Through the mystery of the incarnation, God fulfilled all that he had dreamed for his favorite creature- the one he referred to as sons and daughters. A man was seated on the throne of God. A man is now ruling creation…and we know him. It’s our big brother. That’s amazing news.

This was always God’s plan for mankind. He intended on "raising him" from child to glorious ruling adult. Sin hadn’t necessitated it (or the incarnation that accomplished it); rather it was accomplished in spite of our fallenness. Our Spiritual elder brothers were intended as tutors. But because of our rebellion they became our sentries, too. God had made us lower than the angels, and with the evil of Eden he had placed them with flaming blades to keep us from doing more harm.

Can you imagine the scene on that Coronation Day? A seemingly endless stair rose up towards the fiery being sitting on the throne high above. All of creation, from least to greatest, lined its way.

Christ’s sandaled foot touched the first step and the elements and waves bowed to him. He continued upward as oak and pine bent to the ground. Next came the animals as their new sovereign passed by. Up he moved until he reached the dizzying heights of the angelic armies. Lowest to greatest they bowed as walked past- the hands that once held swords of flame touched the ground in fealty to the human who dared look them in the eye. Finally only Michael, Gabriel, and (if tradition is to be trusted) Raphael were left. Each of the terrifying archangels knelt before the young Jew, reached out battle hardened hands and kissed the carpenter’s calluses. No one else stood between him and God, and God rose and smiled and with a motion of his hand indicated his own seat, and Christ embraced Him and turned and sat down. All of heaven exploded in love and admiration. The new King had been crowned…and he is a man like us.

Here the work of God in Christ for you and me reached its completion. God has given us much more than we had thrown away. What's his is ours. A human being has been taken up into the very life of God, and like thousand of lesser fathers would do centuries later, He handed over the keys to the family car.

ASCENSION DAY- PART ONE

9 And when he had said these things, as they were looking on, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. 10 And while they were gazing into heaven as he went, behold, two men stood by them in white robes, 11 and said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking into heaven? This Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.” Acts 1:9-11


A baby is good, but not all that she will one day be.

My daughter graduates from high school this month. She’s working, driving, choosing and…she’s beautiful as a young woman. I’m so very proud of her. I’m proud of each of my other five children, too, but this is her time of accomplishment, and she’s accomplished much.

I can remember when I could hold her in one hand. Someone must have said “She is perfect,” in the delivery room, because we were all thinking it. We meant it with all of our parental hearts. No exaggerating or covering up. She was just right, and yet… our dreams were for more than the pink, mostly bald little figure, who instinctively snuggled against her mother’s breast. She was totally good and yet not finished. Perfect and yet not mature.

We want our children to grow up. We hope that one day they will take their place beside us- to argue their perspective on the Bowl Championship Series, to take over the family business, to arrive at Thanksgiving with cranberry sauce and grandkids in tow.

Parents “raise” children. In the South we go all out and “raise them up.” What a rich expression.

Our calling is to bring about the maturation and exaltation of our children. We mold them and fashion them for ever increasing glory and responsibility. We help them grow into ever more lucid images of their creator, for the glory of God, as an ancient Saint declared, is man fully alive. We pray that our little boys and girls will one day ascend to the heights that their baptismal birthright calls them.

This is our business because it was first our God’s business. The story of scripture is the story of God as Parent. Perfect as men and women were in their original state, there was more for them. Born, as scripture reminds us, a little lower than the angels, God had a much greater place for us. Redemption is about that journey to maturity, even in the midst of rebellion. God’s a good parent even to a clan of brats.

All of this is important, if we want to understand the significance of tomorrow- our Lord’s Ascension Day.

Sunday School versions of biblical events tend to sugar things up. A coating of sugar is tasty, but it can hide what lies beneath. Often on nasty processed grains, this is helpful. Usually on important biblical narratives, its not.

The account of Noah, for example, brings to mind rainbows and a boat full of smiling animals, but can you imagine the smell from a world of rotting corpses that must have greeted the emerging family? The story of Christ’s ascension comes with similar nursery visions of Christ rising up and flying off through the clouds into space- past Saturn and his rings and Pluto’s controversial body.

I used to envision him still going with a smile on his face. That would put him somewhere around two-thousand light years from earth by now. Maybe you can remember singing a song in Junior Church that began with a countdown to blasted off before declaring “Somewhere in Outer Space, God has prepared a place, for those who trust him and obey.” Space travel is cool, but that’s not it. Ascension Day doesn’t dispute the claim that the first man in space was a Russian. Its significance lies elsewhere, and the key is in those clouds that St. Luke mentions.

Lunch is over. I'll pick this back up.

HOLY HATRED

Editorial Note: Time may make the context of this post unclear. It was written during the week of the horrific Va Tech shootings.

Her picture reminded me of my daughter.

There’s a clear resemblance and I was instantly drawn to the short description of this precious young lady. The account only made the connection stronger- she was openly Christian, home schooled, unusually innocent and sweet. Those who knew her thought she was likely praying for her attacker as he took her life.

Oh God. I could feel the tears forming. I’ve got that little girl living in my house.

Like every one else, I was saddened by the news of the Virginia Tech shootings. But this connection was powerful- both in its depth and speed. It was as if I were looking at my child’s picture- as if it was she who had been hurt.

She wasn’t, and I’m so thankful, but this precious, precious individual belongs to someone.

It’s different now. I can’t hear a news report without seeing her MySpace smile…and that of my daughter.

Someone’s child has died. Today has reminded me that someday mine will, too.

I’ve been thinking a lot about death, lately. It feels like we’ve had more than our share of medical stresses: Pancreatitis, CT Scans, Asthma, Neurological studies, Gallstones, MRI’s, EKG’s and multiple Ultrasounds all within the last six months. Those who have been praying know that this is just a partial list.

The latest and scariest were a couple of skin biopsies for my wife. The physician braced us for bad news. She believed it was melanoma. We’ve lost loved ones to that particular monster. When the doctor told us that we’d be back, it really scared us, because we knew that odd discoloration had been there for many, many years.

Turns out that everything is alright, but during those twelve days of waiting on the test results I did a lot of thinking. I pled for mercy and healing. I prayed and then prayed some more. The threat of death is ruthlessly clarifying.

I simply couldn’t imagine the world without Sandi living in it. Invariably, I began to review the reasons why…and this lead to thankfulness. What else is there to feel for a life filled with Sandi but thankfulness.

I’ve had years upon years of her blessing presence. The memories are thick and deep. I’ve been given so much already- so much, but it’s not enough. That’s not a self condemning sort of statement. I mean it. It’s the truth. There can simply never be enough time with the ones we love. But…and here’s the awful reality, one day it will be done. One day the sun will rise without them being there to feel its warmth. I may not loose my darling wife to cancer this year, but one day something will take her from me- or me from her. It’s certain. It’s certain….

Religion can put a hobby like coating on the truth it handles. It’s part of a day, but somehow disconnected to actual living. But here in the face of horrific truth as we find it, our faith comes to toil in the dirt of reality beside us.

Death is the great enemy. We can see it and feel it and hate it and fight it so concretely that it makes our belly hurt in the effort. There’s no stopping it. Not really. Not finally. There’s no where to hide from it. No sanctuary - not even in a place surrounded by youth and beautifully manicured grounds.

Damn death.

God damn it.

And that’s the answer. He did, and it had it coming.

For all my middle class sheltered American soft heartedness, I understand the hatred that comes with Monday’s violence. What happened was wrong. It was wrong.

I feel it so strongly that I can almost taste its metallic tang in my mouth. I see the face of the killer and I want to curse. I want to strike out…and I think this is right and good, as long as keep in mind who the real enemy is. Evil deserves to be denounced.

When I’m tempted to shrink back from the condemnation language of Good Friday, I’ll need to remember death coming for this little sister and the others it grabbed in Virginia before moving on to stalk down each and every one I love. I’ll hate it, as my God hates it, and I’ll be thankful for his wrath and I’ll ask him to show no mercy.

Surely, mercy to the little Christian sister I’ve never met- and will never get to meet in this age.

Mercy to me and my loved ones.

Mercy even to the tormented life that became death’s instrument this past Monday. But to the enemy that reached through the young killer’s hands, nothing but cursing. Nothing but destruction.

Thank God for the cross.

“Me, too, Lord,” I want to say.

I hate it, too. Make me hate it…all the time.

We can loose the earthy, bloody truth amidst all the pretty dresses, ducklings and eggs of Easter …even among all the “going to heaven when you die” talk. Death’s been kicked in the teeth. He’s been judged and found wanting and God’s kicked him in the teeth.

Glory to you, Lord Christ!

One day the toes that slid into those shoes for the last time early last Monday morning will wiggle in the grass again. I’ll be able to hold Dad’s hand- the very same hand that once baited my hook and wiped my nose. No matter how the enemy comes, my eyes will one day look into my beloved eyes... again.

Christ has risen. Against death’s befuddled objection, he’s risen.

It’s hard to get more real…more relevant than the fingers, smiles and hugs of those we love. We get those back. All of them.

That’s the ultimate relevancy of the gospel. We get them back.

Life would be unbearable, if it were not true.

SAYING GOODBYE TO BRIGHT WEEK

My oldest daughter is graduating from high school this year. It’s unbelievable.

I don’t mean that in an “Oh, my gosh!” sort of way. I mean literally- it’s Unbelievable!

If I were being asked in a court of law-under oath- if its possible that enough time has past to change my darling little toddler into a beautiful and independent young woman, I’d say “No, way.”

But I’d be wrong. There she is.

….And my second born is graduating next year. Unbelievable!

One of the memories of Rachael that seem as recent as yesterday is of her strapped into her car seat and attentively watching the scenery go by- “Pacie,” of course, in hand. She’s always been fascinated with God’s world.

Invariably, especially in the summer, we’d hear an excited “Rat House!” We’d look over our shoulder to find her pointing out the window at a building in the early stages of construction. I don’t know where she got that- why she associated a framed house with rats. Maybe all the crisscrossing timbers reminded her of a huge nest. I’m not sure. I do know that I miss hearing her little voice pointing out the wonder of something uniquely new.

After a few weeks the paint would go on, the roof would be finished and we’d drive by without comment- just another beautiful and warm American dwelling.

The memory makes me think...about buildings and foundations, Daddy’s and their children and about what each of these journeys have to say to the liturgical path we travel each year.

Bright Week is coming to an end. The Feasts that lie ahead of me- Ascension Thursday and Whitsunday- each assume the foundation of Easter morning, but my attention will be directed to their wonderful lessons…and then I’ll move on to live in the house that Christ built.

It will be easy to forget the foundations. Thought I’d take one more look before the walls go up.

It seems odd, somehow, that we can cancel out forty days of heavy preparation with one week of bright revelry. It must be a very heavy concentration of brightness indeed to counterbalance all the darkness that Lent brings forward. And of course it is. All the days that cling indivisibly to Pascha are God’s judgment enacted…really enacted.

God’s Judgment. The phrase itself sounds heavy.

Even now as I’m writing this, it sounds a bit, well.... wrong.

Easter about judgment?

Judgment bright?

I see the judgment in Good Friday, but Easter… ?

It seems I want to play judgment against mercy- as if God’s verdict was by nature grim. What does that say about my concept of God? Judgment is really about choosing. When I say I don’t trust someone’s judgment, I mean that I’m unsure about the choices they make. Why would I think that all of God’s choices are naturally forbidding?

Some of my problem is in wanting to equate mercy with only a positive response and judgment with all the negative ones. But surely saying “No” to some things is the more merciful route. Think of cancer, loneliness or pain.

When God’s verdict comes down it means brightness to some options and darkness to others- all at the same time. When choosing between competing options, a “Yes” to one always implies a “No” to the other, and vise versa. You can’t choose, I mean really choose, one thing without rejecting another. Every spoken “Yes” is one half of a larger compound word: Yes-No. Every spoken “No” says “Yes” at the same time- if only silently.

I think I’ve contrasted the wrong things. Mercy isn’t opposed to Judgment. Rather Mercy is opposed to my death. God's judgment is mercy. His mercy is judgmental. There can be no Easter morning without Good Friday. One drags the other with it…unless our God equivocates. Unless he’s not quite sure what he wants…unless he refuses to really choose.

But thankfully our God does know what he’s about. He knows what and who he's for, and that someone is you and me, fully alive. This means, is another way of saying really, that he is against all that is opposed to us…all that drains the glory from the life we were meant to have and all that leaves us pale, limp and hurting.

The cross made audible His rejection of choices in opposition to His covenant love. Mercifully he didn’t scream His rejection- his judgment- at each individual who mocked the glory he had intended for them, but rather He spoke clearly to the King who represented those people. Ever loving, He played that part himself and muffled the necessary rejection through his own body.

On Easter morning our God laughed out a great “Yes!” to the life of our beloved King. The boringly familiar counterfeits of true power and glory- money, raw strength and selfish pleasure- each made a play for supremacy.

Both religious and political manifestations made the claim, “This is the way to godlikeness. This is the way of true humanity.” But in response God left each of those advocates in the sweltering misery of their lives… and eventual deaths, but to Him who took upon himself the form of a servant and was obedient unto death, even the death of the cross, he gave eternal life. “That’s it. That’s what I’m for,” God vigorously declared in Christ's public vindication on Easter morning.

The Cross and Resurrection form one declaration- one judgment. Neither was possible without the other for each formed- each was, really- the other viewed from beneath. On Good Friday, our God spoke the "Yes”, which Easter so obviously declares. On Easter he whispered “No!” to the scandalous sin of Good Friday.

Judgment and choice, all of it. Mercy, all of it, too….because all of it for us.How different from the capricious vision of god that I often struggle with- a god who arbitrarily makes rules so that he can torture me eternally if and when I break one of them…and all for his own personal pleasure.

Good Friday and Easter tell of another God altogether- one who is by nature a Father. And His judgment- his choice- is for me. He wants only what any Father wants for his child. And who can stand in his way?

He hates all that would harm me, and has a heart so soft that he can’t bear for me to witness his dispatching of my enemies. He covers my eyes and does the deed, takes my face in his hands and says “No one will ever harm you.”

That’s the gospel. That’s our God. That’s where we must start to build his house.

Now, what sort of walls would best go up on such a foundation...

HOLY SATURDAY, HELLBOY AND THE DAMNING OF DEATH

It’s early. Everyone else (with the exception of Sandi, of course) is still asleep. It’s that odd day sandwiched between the cross of Good Friday and the empty tomb of Easter morning. Holy Saturday has arrived. And this year, it’s come with a hard freeze.

It seems appropriate, somehow. The bed feels so warm. It’s hard to get up; ought to just snuggle back in and…sleep… for a little while… longer. It’s as if our Lord has reached down through the weather and added his own personal ornament to this tree of celebration we call Holy Saturday. Our lord is dead- sleeping in a bed of stone. It’s the Sabbath, the day of rest, the last day of the week- the last day of existence for the old cursed creation. In the morning death will die, but she doesn’t know it yet. Already, the righteous poison is working its way through her system, but she is unaware.

There's a scene at the end of the movie HellBoy, which reminds me of what our God was up to on these three precious days over two thousand years ago. Hellboy is facing Behemoth, a huge demonic being. To look at them, the battle is hopeless. Behemoth is huge, and mean and powerful. Hellboy is all of these things, but not when scaled against his opponent. When they battle, our hero appears small and weak. Finally, the inevitable happens. Behemoth swallows the small opponent- not even needing to chew. That was yesterday- Good Friday. Death devoured our Savior and champion.

The beast belches in satisfaction- sitting back on its wormlike haunches, but for those who have ears to hear a high pitched whine can be heard. Hellboy has activated the grenades he strapped to his body before purposefully provoking the beast. For those who understand, things have just taken a drastic turn. That’s today- Holy Saturday. Death has taken He-who-has-life-within-Himself...He who is life itself, into its belly.

With sudden realization, a troubled expression passes for the shortest of moments across the “face” of the behemoth before the demon explodes from the very heart of its own belly. That will be tomorrow- Easter morning. Death's carcass will lie gaping and defeated for all creation to see.

The icon of the resurrection makes all of this perfectly clear. Christ is standing on the burst gates of death and hell- helping those who have been held in its grasp to their feet. He has descended into hell. He died as fully as any man or woman has ever died. His solidarity with us is complete. This, the incarnation made possible. God cannot die, but creatures can. Those who receive life as a gift can be forced to give it up. And so death made claim on this man- just as he does on every man and woman that Christ came to save. But this particular morsel was indivisibly and inseparably united to Life itself. Death had taken its own destruction into its own heart. Death was destroyed by death. That is the message of Holy Saturday. Our sorrow is not replaced. Our sorrow is transformed.

I need to get up and moving. Last night’s Good Friday Service is still heavy on my heart. We left him in the tomb. We left the darkened sanctuary sorrowful and silent.

It is what it is: Our Savior is among the dead.

But sometime, later in the morning my heart will begin to sing. An epiphany will begin to work its solace through my consciousness. Death has swallowed unending and unconquerable life. Damned death is surely damned.

It is what it is: Our savior is among the dead. Hallelujah!

Now, we just have to wait for the bang....

A HUMBLE KING CROWNED WITH THORNS

Then Pilate took Jesus and flogged him. And the soldiers twisted together a crown of thorns and put it on his head and arrayed him in a purple robe. They came up to him, saying, ‘Hail, King of the Jews!’ and struck him with their hands. Pilate went out again and said to them, ‘See, I am bringing him out to you that you may know that I find no guilt in him.’ So Jesus came out, wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe. Pilate said to them, ‘Behold the man!’
— John 19:1-5

Have you ever wondered why the soldiers chose a crown of thorns? After all, they could have constructed the crown from a number of other materials. Yet, the crown of thorns seems purposed, that is, it draws us back to the Genesis and the series of curses that resulted when our first parents fell. “Cursed is the ground because of you; in pain you shall eat of it all the days of your life; thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you” (Gen 3:17-18). As Jesus begins to walk the path that leads to his death by crucifixion, we have a glimpse here of how he, the true guiltless Man, will take the curse, our curse upon Himself. The scene is shot through with irony—Pilate, the image of a false and corrupt “king,” presenting the true King as a helpless prisoner and eventually condemning Him to die. Likewise, we see Jesus, the Lord of creation, the perfect image of God, who unlike Adam and Eve, listened the voice of the Father in humble obedience even to the point of death on a Cross—this Jesus, Pilate proclaims is the true man (talk about meanings going beyond the intention of the author/speaker), and indeed He is—the icon of God who makes the invisible God visible, who opens blind eyes, softens hard hearts and who gives life to the dead. Yet, the One through whom all things were made and who, came to His own, finds His own in rebellion against Him. In fact, they even weave together a crown of thorns and dress Him in a purple robe to mock Him. What is our Lord’s response to this? Does He lash out and call down legions of angels to wipe out the rebels? No. The innocent, yet true King, crowned with signs of creation’s curse, stands silent and walks the path that was both His destiny and our blessing. Behold the Man!

Cynthia Nielsen is graduate student at the University of Dallas and an adjunct philosophy instructor at Eastfield College. Her interests include jazz guitar and Russian language and literature. She blogs at Per Caritatem. [HT: Alastair]

GOD'S CONDEMNATION OF SIN

‘For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.’ Paul’s classic challenge to the wisdom of the world echoes down the centuries and confronts us once more as we come face to face once more with the great events which not only stand at the heart of our faith but are etched into our geography and architecture, as this great building makes clear. One of the paradoxical signs of the continuing and urgent relevance of the message and meaning of the cross is that it is once more under attack from several directions; and we who today declare that we will be true to our ordination vows, and who will this evening and tomorrow commemorate those high and holy, disturbing and decisive events in the story of Jesus himself, must take a deep breath, summon up our courage, and learn again what it means to discover the wisdom of God in what the world counts foolishness, the power of God in what the world counts weakness.

The first challenge comes from within, in the temptation to water down the message of the cross so that it becomes less offensive, more palatable to the ordinary sensible mind. We must of course acknowledge that many, alas, have offered caricatures of the biblical theology of the cross. It is all too possible to take elements from the biblical witness and present them within a controlling narrative gleaned from somewhere else, like a child doing a follow-the-dots puzzle without paying attention to the numbers and producing a dog instead of a rabbit. This is what happens when people present over-simple stories, as the mediaeval church often did, followed by many since, with an angry God and a loving Jesus, with a God who demands blood and doesn’t much mind whose it is as long as it’s innocent. You’d have thought people would notice that this flies in the face of John’s and Paul’s deep-rooted theology of the love of the triune God: not ‘God was so angry with the world that he gave us his son’ but ‘God so loved the world that he gave us his son’. That’s why, when I sing that interesting recent song and we come to the line, ‘And on the cross, as Jesus died, the wrath of God was satisfied’, I believe it’s more deeply true to sing ‘the love of God was satisfied’, and I commend that alteration to those of you who sing that song, which is in other respects one of the very few really solid recent additions to our repertoire.

But once we’ve got rid of the caricature, we are ready to face the reality, the reality of the foolishness and weakness, but in fact the wisdom and the power, of the cross of Jesus Christ. When Paul declares, equally famously, that there is ‘no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus’, he doesn’t say ‘because after all God wasn’t into condemning things, there was never any question of his being wrathful or angry, that’s a barbaric old-fashioned myth’. No. At the heart of the complex explanation Paul gives in the next two verses for why there is no condemnation, we find this central statement in which we find the life and peace of the gospel itself: ‘For God has done what the law . . . could not do: sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and as a sin-offering, he condemned sin in the flesh.’ Precisely out of his fathomless love the creator God sent his own Son not simply to share in the mess and muddle of our human existence, but to take upon himself the task of being the place where God would pass judicial sentence upon sin itself, sin as a fact, sin as a deadly power, sin as the poisonous snake whose bite means death itself. Please note, Paul doesn’t say that God condemned Jesus Christ. He says that God condemned sin in the flesh of Jesus Christ. As the Archbishop of Canterbury says in his new book, ‘[Christ] becomes a sort of embodied image for what we are; and he takes on himself the curse that is laid on us.’ Now if you put that truth into other narratives – the story of an angry old man, the story of an offended mediaeval nobleman, the story of a judge imposing a heavy fine – and you will distort it. But to deny the truth because of the distortions is to cut out the heart because the patient is bleeding. The word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.

Face it: to deny God’s wrath is, at bottom, to deny God’s love. When God sees humans being enslaved – and do please go and see the film Amazing Grace as soon as you get the change – if God doesn’t hate it, he is not a loving God. (It was the sneering, sophisticated set who tried to make out that God didn’t get angry about that kind of thing, and whom Wilberforce opposed with the message that God really does hate slavery.) When God sees innocent people being bombed because of someone’s political agenda, if God doesn’t hate it, he isn’t a loving God. When God sees people lying and cheating and abusing one another, exploiting and grafting and preying on one another, if God were to say, ‘never mind, I love you all anyway’, he is neither good nor loving. The Bible doesn’t speak of a God of generalized benevolence. It speaks of the God who made the world and loves it so passionately that he must and does hate everything that distorts and defaces the world and particularly his human creatures. And the Bible doesn’t tell an abstract story about people running up a big debit balance in God’s bank and God suddenly, out of the blue, charging the whole lot to Jesus. The Bible tells a story about the creator God calling a people through whom he would put the world right, living with that covenant people even when they themselves went wrong, allowing them to become the place where the power of evil would do its worst, and preparing them all through for the moment when, like the composer finally stepping on stage to play the solo part, he would come and take upon himself, in the person of his Son, the pain and shame, yes, the horror and darkness, yes, but also, in Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, in Paul and Acts and Hebrews and 1 Peter and Revelation, in Ignatius and Irenaeus and Augustine and Aquinas, in Luther and Calvin and Cranmer and Hooker, in Herbert and Donne and and Wesley and Watts – he would take upon himself the condemnation which, precisely because he loves us to the uttermost, he must pronounce over that deadly disease we call sin. To deny this, as some would do today as they have for hundreds of years, is to deny the depth and weight of sin and the deeper depth and heavier weight of God’s redeeming love. The word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.

From the Maundy Thursday Sermon of the Bishop of Durham, Dr N. T. Wright

MERE CHRISTIANITY DEFINED

I’ve grown fond of describing myself as a “Mere Christian.” Makes me feel all “Lewisian,” I guess. That’s always a good thing…Lewis-ian. Not sure how to spell it, but you know what I mean.

N. T Wright has tempted me with Simple Christian, but this sounds to much like Simpleton, and it’s a tactical blunder to draw undue attention to one’s weaknesses. I’ll stick with Lewis’ designation.

By Mere Christian our dear brother meant to indicate the ground common to all Christians.

Nothing fancy.

Nothing extra.

Just “the stuff.”

It’s a sort of modern Vincentian Canon (Quod ubique, quod semper, quod ab omnibus creditum est- What has been believed everywhere, always, and by all); it has all the weaknesses and attractions of the same. On the plus side we have an acknowledgement and affirmation of the essentials- along with the history that formed them. On the negative side we have the ambiguity created by the sheer simplicity of “everywhere, always and all.”

Everywhere and always…really? And what about “all”- all of what?

Doesn’t seem very helpful; does it? But I think that St. Vincent was assuming presuppositions that we would tend to question. He knew what belief in a truly catholic church meant. He could point to one.

If we were asked to point at the catholic church, we’d end up indicating a body that is oxymoronically called Roman, yet universal. A part of the catholic church, for sure, but not the whole shebang. That’s a problem for the modern application of St. Vincent’s formula- and for Lewis’, as well.

So I thought it might be helpful to make explicit what I mean by the term “Mere Christian." In a nutshell, it seems important to me that we restore St. Vincent’s presuppositions. We need to know “where and by whom” the “always” has been believed.

The fullest measure of the radically least is fourfold. (Yeah, I know. I had to reread that a couple of times, too.) The recipe requires four ingredients. Here's how I figure it-

(1) The Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments, as "containing all things necessary to salvation," and as being the rule and ultimate standard of faith.

(2) The Apostles' Creed, as the Baptismal Symbol; and the Nicene Creed, as the sufficient statement of the Christian faith.

(3) The two Sacraments ordained by Christ Himself--Baptism and the Supper of the Lord--ministered with unfailing use of Christ's words of Institution, and of the elements ordained by Him.

(4) The Historic Episcopate, locally adapted in the methods of its administration to the varying needs of the nations and peoples called of God into the Unity of His Church.

The one, holy, catholic and apostolic church is that community which is entered into by baptism, fed and sustained by Christ in the Eucharist and committed to living the story attested to…by the bishops who trace their authority to Christ and his twelve apostles.

(Editorial note because my daughter says I'm confusing- Begin my part of imaginary conversation with irate reader here)

So there it is- Mere Christianity. No more and no less. I think you…

What was that?

I’m out of my freakin’ mind…now I wouldn’t say…

Sola what? Sola Scriptura?

Yeah, I believe in… What?

Scripture is the rule and ultimate standard of faith. I affirm that. I said th…

Wait, wait, wait.

This is the problem I was trying to get at in the beginning. Scripture isn’t enough. In fact, if we stick with scripture alone, then we end up without a bible. Let me come at it from another angle; hear me out.

Why does scripture matter?

Owe! Come on! I’m asking a serious question.

Why does it matter? Scripture is the final authority- the ultimate rule for faith and practice- because it is the authoritative depository of what God was up to in Christ.

Right?

It’s not important apart from its message. It’s not uniquely significant as an object. It’s foundational importance is found in what says. It does us no good, if it’s not read…and understood. Scripture doesn’t form the bedrock of our identity by…well, lying there and being bedrock; rather it tells us authoritatively what God was up to in Christ. Everything flows from this.

In the final analysis it matters because of what it says about the identity, life and mission of Jesus. It matters for the story it tells.

Now, what does it say about the identity, life and mission of Jesus? What story does it tell?

It’s been told different way, you know. That’s okay- within reason. The problem comes when the Christian gospel morphs into another story altogether.

Imagine you have me over to your house, the kids are playing in the floor at our feet and I offer, “Want to hear a story?”

“Yeah,” they respond as they gather around expectantly.

“This is the story of Little Red Riding Hood,” I begin. “It’s my favorite story. My daddy used to tell it to me and his daddy told it to him. It goes like this: Once upon a time there was little girl named Little Red Riding Hood. She loved grandmothers- with all of her heart…”

You smile and relax back into the sofa. This is nice. It reminds you of being small and listening to the same tale from your Father.

I continue, “She loved them boiled and fried. She loved them raw and pickled, but her favorite way of eating grandmothers was roasted with carrots and potatoes…”

You come forward in your seat. “What are you talking about?”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“What are you telling them?”

“Little Red Riding Hood,” I answer.

“No, you’re not.”

“Sure I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Sure I am. I’ll prove it. This is the Story of Little Red Riding Hood. Once upon a time there was little girl named Little Red Riding Hood. She loved grandmothers- with all of her heart…”

“But simply calling it Little Red Riding Hood doesn’t make it Little Red Riding Hood. It’s a different story.”

I’m surprised at your arrogance. “Says who?” I ask. “There’s Little Red Riding Hood, there’s her Grandmother; if you’d let me finish you’d see that there is also that infuriating do-gooder “the big bad wolf. It’s all there.”

Maybe you can see my point. There’s all sorts of room for variations without compromising the fairy tale. Maybe you have the child carrying muffins in her basket, but I think that Grandmother prefers chocolate chip cookies. Perhaps you have Grandmother living to the West while I locate her in the South. I think Red Riding Hood has golden hair, but you know that it’s auburn. Plenty of room for variation while remaining the same story.

But there are certain lines you can’t cross without turning it into a different tale altogether. How many lines? Well there’s probably an infinite number of ways to switch it over. We humans have great imaginations. The only ones we know about for sure are the ones various yahoos have already tried. Little Red Riding Hood as cannibal, for example. That’s one way of telling a different story.

With the resurrection and ascension of Christ and the subsequent outpouring of His Spirit upon his people, the kingdom began to spread. The gospel, the spell (or story) of God began to go forth. It was told in Italy and Greece, Turkey and Spain. Eventually the “angels” in Britain heard its telling and the people of Egypt and India. The story. The one story.

But from the very beginning people began to tell it in such a way as to subvert it into another thing altogether. They used the same words- son of God, Jesus. They told the same plotlines, mostly, but they meant different things by them…they changed them at crucial points. And so St John had to warn against those who denied that Christ had come in the flesh. Different story, that.

How many ways are there of screwing up the narrative? We’ll probably never know. But we can know the ways it has been tried, and they usually consist of an almost infinite number of variations on four main themes. They deny that Jesus was truly God, perfectly man, distinctly both or indivisibly one person. Alerting us to these variations is the role of The Ecumenical Creeds of the church. They tell a story, but in need of fleshing out. They parade out the main plotlines without which the story would be deficient…perhaps, even other than that which was originally given. They mark the major digressions which the bent hearts of men and women have preferred to the gospel. They summarize, they preserve The Story itself by creating a fence around the truth. Inside, somewhere is truth. Out there, everywhere is error.

“In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God and the word was God.” So says our source.

“He wasn’t exactly God, you know” offers a competing storyteller. He makes a pretty good case, too- from the source itself. After all, there’s only one God. Jesus prayed to him, and grew hungry, tired, afraid….dead. God doesn’t do any of those things. What St. John means is…"

Like I said, he makes a good case. The only problem is that it’s not the way those who walked and talked and died for Jesus told the story. That’s not the story they- and through them- we were given.

Notice the different elements in play:

(1) Two contradicting versions of Christ (two stories) both appealing to (2) the same source (the Bible)

Do you see that Mere Christianity involves both (a) an authoritative source (b) properly understood?

Which is the correct understanding? What is the standard? For those who take seriously Jesus’ claims, it is the story as he told it. Ah! And where are we to find that?

We find it among the people to whom it was first given. We need to learn and be formed by them- to become one of them. How is this done- what does faithfulness to the story of a God who eternally exists in community require here? Baptism and Communion answer this.

Adherence to Mere Christianity has so far required of us three elements: (a) the source (b) the truthful understanding of the source and (c) membership and communion with the people being formed by the source. Which brings us to the last (and most contentious point)

Where are they to be found?

This is particularly crucial. Do you see why? The other three points depend on this one. If we don’t know where they are, we (c) can’t learn and be formed by them. If we can’t learn and be formed by them, (b) we can’t be sure we understand the source properly; if we can’t be sure we understand the source properly, (a) we (and this is surprisingly not understood)…can’t be sure that we have the source at all.

Just as there’s always been many competing ways of telling the story, there has always been competing works claiming to be part of the source. The recent silliness in the media over the Gospel of Judas is a case in point. In the beginning- as still today- there were literally dozens of works considered by various individuals to be “source material.” Often these works made more obvious or explicit the “alternative storylines” the competing storytellers espoused.

Here's the point: There simply is no list within any of the books of the New Testament clarifying which books belong in the New Testament.

How do we know what is “source material” and so, what is not? We rely on those to whom they were originally given. Doug Wilson has rightly said that before we can come to Scripture, we must pass through a creed. We call this creed The Table of Contents. Or in other words: the problem with New-Testament-Only-Christians is that they are left without a New Testament.

So, how do we know where to find them? Where is the church found…for sure?

Perhaps it’s a more difficult question than you might think. There are many competing groups and “peoples.” Each baptizing. Each with its own version of the story.

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, for example, asks why the more popular version of the gospel is the right one. Why indeed? They believe the bible’s declaration that Christ is God’s only begotten son. They just don’t believe that he is “God of God, light of light, very God of very God.” They’ll dunk you and they also have a peculiar position on “source material.” Maybe they’re the real deal. How do you know? Are those of us living two thousand years from Christ’s earthly visit left to our own discretion and judgment about the truthfulness or falsehood of ancient things?

Thankfully, it’s not such a difficult question. We simply need to know where “they” are. How do we do it? The same way we locate any other group. Can you imagine asking “I wonder where congress is…the real congress, that is?”

“Well, Congress is over there.”

“But how do you know it is the real congress?”

“Because it received its authority- its authentication- from the congress that assembled before it, and they received theirs from the one before that….all the way back to the original institution. No reasonable person asks where it can find Congress, or the Presidency, or the county School Board. Likewise, no one need wonder where to find the church. While there are various individuals, parishes and institutions the church can be traced consistently back to the Apostles and their Lord through its shepherds.

This is why we find the martyr St Ignatius of Antioch writing in 110 AD “Let no one do anything of concern to the Church without the bishop. Let that be considered a valid Eucharist which is celebrated by the bishops, or by one whom he appoints. Wherever the bishop appears, let the people be there; just as wherever Jesus Christ is, there is the catholic church.”

It may be that we can “happen” upon the true source. We might get really lucky regarding its proper understanding. Then, if our luck and scholarship holds, we can identify the independent manifestation of the one true body. Maybe. But it would be disingenuous. You would be depending on the authority of the church’s continuity to arrive at a, b and c. before throwing them overboard in the sixteenth century. Seems a bit selective. We started in the air, built the ladder under us and then climbed down to survey the job. No one believes that. Something fishy is going on.

If we happened to get a, b and c right on our own and against all odds (though how would we know), we would leave those who came after us vulnerable and uncertain at each stage, because we went about it precisely backwards.

If we want to know with certainty where the church is, we simply need to follow her back to her Lord. Certainty, in regards to Mere Christianity requires- indeed, begins with- (d) the Historic Episcopate.

Being able to tell where the church is is an essential part of Mere Christianity; knowing for sure where it's not is dubious extra.