I have been struggling with rethinking the grace of God given to us in Christ. And this has led me, among other things, to placing a temporary moratorium – perhaps for a couple of months or so – on my blog. It is because this place – like so many places in my life – becomes the grounds for me to prove my worthiness to God. I embroil myself in a theological battle (with myself) in order to prove my spiritual worth to God. Or I use my work and productivity as a measure of my value. Or my relationships and my own vain measure of “impact” too becomes a way to work toward acceptance. And so this blog along with many things in my life can become a preoccupation – what do I post, and how may I use it prove myself? – which leads down that sorrowful path of rejecting God’s grace through the cross of Christ.

I recently finished Paul Tillich’s The Courage to Be, which I found one of the deepest books I have read in a good long while (the toughest read since The Religious Affections). Tillich was challenging in the sense that he brought me home to that philosophy which has always resonated most strongly with me – existentialism – and placed God so squarely in the center of it. He defines God ontologically – not as a moral abstract or even a personal abstract (though he is personal and though he is the source of morality), but as the source of Being. Apart from him there is nothing, and everything stems from him; the struggle of mankind is the struggle against non-being, which is separation from the source of being (which is God himself), which is itself sin, and what makes sin what it is. I need to re-read the book with a notepad and some more time, and even then I do not think I can explain it with the elegance or clarity of Tillich, but it has been one of a few things which has led to a rediscovery of grace. I don’t believe that any system of philosophy or understanding may be constructed which will not find God (and more specifically, the risen Christ) at the center of it, and by taking these differing perspectives we may be able to reach a fuller and more nuanced understanding of the person of the God we worship.

Tillich calls grace, on our end, the “courage to accept acceptance.” There are many human responses to the anxiety of non-being – the anxiety of death, or of meaninglessness, or of guilt – but it is only the courage to accept acceptance, the courage of grace, which transcends ourselves and places us into that stream of being which begins and ends with God. How vastly different from my own anxieties and proofs of self-worth! But there is no being in myself, and so no worth, but only that which comes unasked-for and uncontrollably (and unalterably) from God, and how frightening dependence on grace can be to my timid heart. I have come again to look at the doctrine of grace, and am blown away at how little I understand it and how little I live it. I heard this all my life in church: where this newness?

While I attempt to take some time to focus on being in God’s grace, and without justification from myself, I will stay away from blogging. I am going to try to study and practice meditation on God’s character, on his word, and the pursuit of the disciplines of simplicity and service. To keep a journal – something private, where I work out with God what it is this life should look like as it is transformed and reconciled more deeply to himself. To take seriously the call to “abide in his love”, and in so doing become changed into a more accurate picture of Christ. There are real practices and disciplines to preparing our hearts to receive the instruction and grace of the Holy Spirit, and it is instructive to consider and learn from how those who went before us in the faith have approached and practiced the presence of God (one thing I will be looking at). His presence dwells, intoxicatingly, everywhere, filling all the earth and still overflowing: and so there, with the wisdom he has provided in Scripture and his followers have given us down through the centuries, I will seek to find him. Of course, though I may not be blogging, I will still be keeping up with folks, and if you know me (or want to chat), you are always welcome.

On some lighter notes, I got to spend pretty much all day yesterday with Ron (who I realize now may be reading this; if so, ‘Hi Ron!’), and that was a great experience. In part because of the natural beauty of the area and equally because of the company. There are two links to some of Ron’s articles up in the upper-right corner of the page (The Great Debate and Love that Does not Count the Cost – I’m not posting a last name up here, but he is a fairly public figure). I also have decided to put a couple of pictures of myself here – one at the end of this post, and one in my profile, and I hope neither is too pretentious – and perhaps I won’t chicken out and take them down.

Let me close with some excerpts of Paul’s, or looking at Colossians’ introduction, is it Paul and Timothy? But it is the word of God, given through the Christological experience of particular men in history for our benefit, those who are seeking him, our Savior.

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.

See to it that no one takes you captive by philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the world, and not according to Christ. For in him the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily, and you have been filled in him, who is the head of all rule and authority.

Soli Deo Gloria! Peace, grace, and the fullness of Christ be with you all.

In Him,
–David

On the matter of self-denial I cannot claim to have done any special thinking. Though I have given it much thought and consideration, I very much doubt I have done moreso than any other religious individual. Nevertheless, the words of self-denial immediately conjure up a notion of special religiosity – of a particularly great holiness. But I do not know that this is so. Allow me to quote Lewis, a man who has risen to almost deuterocanonical levels in Protestantism, but who on the matters of motivation, and most particularly in his understanding of heaven and hell, is seldom surpassed among Christian philosophers. From The Weight of Glory:

If you asked twenty good men to-day what they thought the highest of the virtues, nineteen of them would reply, Unselfishness. But if you asked almost any of the great Christians of old he would have replied, Love. You see what has happened? A negative term has been substituted for a positive, and this is of more than philological importance. The negative ideal of Unselfishness carries with it the suggestion not primarily of securing good things for others, but of going without them ourselves, as if our abstinence and not their happiness was the important point. I do not think this is the Christian virtue of Love. The New Testament has lots to say about self-denial, but not about self-denial as an end in itself. We are told to deny ourselves and to take up our crosses in order that we may follow Christ; and nearly every description of what we shall ultimately find if we do so contains an appeal to desire.

My distrust of self-denial as self-denial is that it has no inherent benefit for the self or for others.

Consider how God speaks to Israel in Isaiah 58:3-6:

‘Why have we fasted,’ they say,
‘and you have not seen it?
Why have we humbled ourselves,
and you have not noticed?’
“Yet on the day of your fasting, you do as you please
and exploit all your workers.

Your fasting ends in quarreling and strife,
and in striking each other with wicked fists.
You cannot fast as you do today
and expect your voice to be heard on high.

Is this the kind of fast I have chosen,
only a day for a man to humble himself?
Is it only for bowing one’s head like a reed
and for lying on sackcloth and ashes?
Is that what you call a fast,
a day acceptable to the LORD ?

“Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
and break every yoke?

Pay attention to the whole thing, but look at that last verse: the focus of fasting is not ourselves, but it is actually about our neighbors, particularly the poor. As he says, ‘this is the kind of fasting chosen for us.’ And while I haven’t done this yet, I would really like to find a place here to get plugged into that is involved with social justice – maybe once every other week or something go without dinner or lunch (on a weekend) and serve someone else lunch. It is just the idea of going without not merely for the sake of going without, but so that someone else can have.

So do not merely deny yourself in order to increase your spirituality. And do not give up your time in order to increase your spirituality through prayer; pray for your sisters and brothers, and give up your time to be with them and be a blessing to someone. What good is it for you or I to starve ourselves if we are not feeding our neighbor? And what good is it if we can claim a spirituality before God that does not spill over into the lives of our neighbors? Even Christ did not take such an approach. He may have withdrawn for prayer, but immediately went out to address the needs of the people: and not just their spiritual needs, but to feed them and to heal nine lepers who never came back to discipleship with him.

Even the self-denial of the cross was not self-denial as self-denial, but it had a purpose: namely, you and I. If the cross were only a form of religious ascetism then it means nothing to us, for he would be just another religious man attaining his own religious significance. But the beauty of Christ’s sacrifice lies in what he did it for: to impart his significance to that which is insignificant, to call ‘beloved’ that which is by nature unlovable, to accomplish that which the Christians of old called redemption. He was motivated out of an incomprehensible love, and from this stemmed the necessity of his self-denial – for our benefit. And so when we as followers of Christ speak of self-denial, it must always be in the light of the cross: not a duty we perform to prove our religious devotion, but an outpouring of the same radical and God-exalting love by which we have been loved and through which we were adopted as his daughters and sons. Self-denial then must be subservient to as well as overshadowed by the motivation of love. What are your reasons, and what are mine, for denial?

I know it’s been a while. I have been adjusting to my new surroundings and, along with my parents coming up for five days this week, have simply not had the time to put up everything I would like to here. And trust me, I have plenty. I now have a nice Word document with little jots and tittles of what I’d like to write about in it. But in the meantime, I don’t want you not to have overly long things to read, and so might I suggest a few:

Betwixt and Between – Practice Makes Perfect: The Solidarity of Stability

Christopher has one of the best, deepest blogs out there, ranging from gay issues to Anglican issues to social issues to plain ol’ deep theology. One of my favorite reads, and although I have to lay aside the time in order to read and digest his posts, I very much enjoy them and find them both challenging and encouraging. Where does stability come from, and passion, and where is Christ found living in the margins, on the outside? I cannot sum up the post, but Christopher contemplates all of this seriously, and he always leads me to a more holistic and Christ-focused meditation on my life. The monastic touches – or rather, devotion – I also find stimulating.

James Alison – Blindsided by God: Reconciliation from the underside

James is someone I’ve only discovered recently and am still going back to read many of his articles. They are very long, and take much time to munch on. He is another Christian dealing with the whole gay issue, but – and I love this about him (and Christopher) – he tackles it sideways. We first come to Christ, not our sexuality. And from him and his life flow all our reconciliations and resolves, all the while lying dim once we have come into the unmitigated presence of our Lord. And in addition, James deals with much more besides, for the divine character encompasses a far wider array of life than this one paltry issue. The article I have chosen was kind of my entry point into Alison’s theology, and introduces one to his understanding of the shame of the cross. I love listening to different understandings of the cross of Christ, for it is a deep well of theology, and we (or at least I) have the tendency to approach it from one angle and thus trivialize it. But the cross is a shameful thing – where Christ bore the ultimate shame and rejection not from mankind only but from the Father. And Alison makes some assertions about wrath being a result of our fallen natures, and not of God himself; wrath is necessary on our part of reconciliation, not on God’s. It is strange, and something I am still considering, but a concept that interweaves seamlessly with the divine undertaking of shame: the God of highest glory who reached down to lowest humility and has thus brought us into himself, detoxifying and rectifying all of Creation in the process. James Alison is definitely one to check out.

Besides all that, I am compelled by Jay to make my next post on the notion of self-denial: what I believe are its appropriate applications, and inappropriate applications. And I have a lot of blogs yet to catch up on; I spent too much time redesigning my blog layout (which, by the way, if you don’t read this via RSS yet, let me know what you think of it). And so, as Pauline as I dare, may I finish by saying: may the surpassing grace and peace of Christ be with you all.