Barth on Gratitude January 2, 2007

In the midst of Church Dogmatics vol. IV/1 on reconciliation, Karl Barth says something that caused me to stop. It’s something we say a lot in the Reformed tradition–our actions, attitudes, emotions, etc. towards God are to come out of gratitude, not guilt or some sense of inducing his favor towards us. But here’s how Barth says it:

“The thing which we maintain when we describe the covenant as the covenant of grace is that the covenant engages man as the partner of God only, but actually and necessarily, to gratitude. On the side of God it is only a matter of free grace and this in the form of benefit. For the other partner in the covenant to whom God turns in this grace, the only proper thing, but the thing which is unconditionally and inescapably demanded, is that he should be thankful. How can anything more or different be asked of man? The only answer to karis (grace) is eukaristia (thankfulness). But how can it be doubted for a moment that this is in fact asked of him? Karis always demands the answer of eukaristia. Grace and gratitude belong together like heaven and earth. Grace evokes gratitude like the voice an echo. Gratitude follows grace like thunder lightning. Not by virtue of any necessity of the concepts as such. But we are speaking of the grace of the God who is God for man, and of the gratitude of man as his response to this grace. Here, at any rate, the two belong together, so that only gratitude can correspond to grace, and this correspondence cannot fail. Its failure, ingratitude, is sin, trangession. Radically and basically all sin is simply ingratitude–man’s refusal of the one but necessary thing which is proper to and is required of him with whom God has graciously entered into covenant.”

A Prayer to Christ October 6, 2006

A poem by Gregory of Nazianzus
(trans. Brian E. Daley, SJ)

Where’s the injustice? I was born human–well and good!
But why am I so battered by life’s tidal waves?
I’ll speak my mind–harshly perhaps, yet still I’ll speak:
Were I not yours, my Christ, this life would be a crime!
We’re born, we age, we reach the measure of our days;
I sleep, I rest, I wake again, I go my way
With health and sickness, joys and struggles as my fare,
Sharing the seasons of the sun, the fruits of the earth,
And death, and then corruption–just like any beast,
Whose life, though lowly, still is innocent of sin!
What more do I have? Nothing more, except for God!
Were I not yours, my Christ, this life would be a crime!

Psalm 139: Pt. 7, Concluding Reflections July 31, 2006

David began with an acute awareness of the Lord’s knowledge of him, knowing that God searches him and knows him. But that isn’t useful unless the psalmist knows what God sees.

Thinking about this, I remembered the first time I saw The Truman Show. There’s this guy who lives in this completely falsely constructed world for the purpose of being entertainment to millions of viewers who watch, scrutinize, and discuss every aspect of his daily life—and I thought to myself, how humbling and helpful would it be for Truman to hear what all those people thought of him, saw in him and about him that he was blind to; it would be an almost inexhaustible resource for personal betterment and growth, in areas he never knew he needed it. He just lived honestly and ignorantly in front of millions of people who could’ve given some very constructive criticism. Well, all of us have an audience who sees and closely observes all of our most unaware living. He knows us perfectly, and while God’s providence is at work in all our lives, there’s something qualitatively different about knowing that we’re known by God and asking him to show us what he sees. This invitation makes us severely vulnerable and requires a submission that none of us are accustomed to, but will invariably (when we listen) result in following God to his heavenly palace where we will dwell with him. This is not an intimacy to be taken lightly, or considered nonchalantly. While we cannot escape from God, his presence is most significant and meaningful when we acknowledge it and choose also to be present with him. The most frightful truth in the world is that God knows us—that the darkness can’t hide us, that God saw our unformed body in the secret place. While these truths are absolutely terrifying, they’re also more wonderful and dignifying than any other truth I could realize in my life—better than a stellar Curriculum vitae, more impressive than many well-invested funds, more impactful than a global ministry I founded. And it’s the truth and acknowledgment of God’s knowledge of me, presence with me, and care for me that is foundational to my willingness to listen to his law, walk in his ways, think his thoughts, be comforted by his presence, and to follow him in the way everlasting.

Thomas Cranmer to Peter Marty (1555) July 28, 2006

An excerpt from a letter Cranmer, while imprisoned, wrote to fellow reformer Peter Martyr Vermigli:

“I have not deemed it right to pass over this one thing, which I have learned by experience, namely, that God never shines forth more brightly, and pours out the beams of his mercy and consolation, or of strength and firmness of spirit, more clearly or impressively upon the minds of his people, than when they are under the most extreme pain and distress, both of mind and body, that he may then more especially shew himself to be the God of his people, when he seems to have altogether forsaken them; then raising them up when they think he is bringing them down, and laying them low; then glorifying them, when he is thought to be confounding them; then quickening them, when he is thought to be destroying them. So that we may say with Paul, ‘When I am weak, then am I strong; and if I must needs glory, I will glory in my infirmities, in prisons, in revilings, in distresses, in persecutions, in sufferings for Christ.’ I pray God to grant that I may endure to the end!”

Thomas Cranmer was burned at the stake in Oxford on March 21, 1556.

One Effect of Expectations July 25, 2006

From Jonathan Edwards’ Diary on Sunday, January 12, 1723:

“The reason why I so soon grow lifeless, and unfit for the business I am about, I have found out, is only because I have been used to suffer myself to leave off, for the sake of ease, and so, I have acquired a habit of expecting ease; and therefore, when I think I have exercised myself a great while, I cannot keep myself to it any longer, because I expect to be released, as my due and right. And then, I am deceived, as if I were really tired and weary. Whereas, if I did not expect ease, and was resolved to occupy myself by business, as much as I could; I should continue with the same vigor at my business, without vacation time to rest. Thus, I have found it in reading the Scriptures; and thus, I have found it in prayer; and thus, I believe it to be in getting sermons by heart, and in other things.”

Sabbath Thoughts July 24, 2006

Abraham Joshua Heschel in his book The Sabbath says,

“Judaism is a religion of time aimed at the sanctification of time. Unlike the space-blinded man to whom time is unvaried, iterative, homogenous, to whom all hours are alike, qualitiless, empty shells, the Bible senses the diversified character of time. There are no two hours alike. Every hour is unique and only one given at the moment, exclusive and endlessly precious. Judaism teaches us to be attached to holiness in time, to be attached to sacred events, to learn how to consecrate sanctuaries that emerge from the magnificent stream of a year. Sabbaths are our great cathedrals; and our holy of holies is a shrine that neither the Romans nor the Germans were able to burn; a shrine that even apostasy cannot easily obliterate: the Day of Atonement. According to the ancient Rabbis, it is not the observance of the Day of Atonement but the Day itself, the ‘essence of the Day,’ which, with man’s repentance, atones for sins of man.”

Having inherited the Christian understanding of time from Judaism, it’s worth considering how we are called to live in time. In thinking about the Sabbath and a God-honoring observance of the Sabbath, I’ve been noticing how I view time as a commodity–something to be spent carefully rather than received as a gift. We don’t give our time to God, but God has given our time to us. Stanely Hauerwas argues that “We learn to be in time as God’s creatures. In worship we take time, or more accurately, in worship God gives us time.” In fact, he gives us time that has been sanctified through the resurrection. The day is holy. “Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God. On it you shall not do any work….For in six days the Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but he rested on the seventh day. Therefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy (Exodus 20:8-11).” Our understanding of Sabbath provides us with both a work ethic and a rest ethic. God accomplished a myriad of wonderful things that required much effort, thought, personal application, and care in the first six days of the week. Then he rested–and his rest sanctified the day, made it holy. If entering into eternal life is knowing the Father and the Son whom he sent (John 17:3), then we live by entering into his pattern of work and rest.

This pattern isn’t one of activity followed by passivity, though. This is strongly demonstrated in the resurrection rest that we are promised–the resurrection wasn’t a rest that Jesus effected for himself so he could live forever in a glorified human body. It’s a rest he accomplished on our behalf so that we could taste that glorified humanity that we’re destined for as we come into worship on Sundays where the full restoration of our fellowship with God is weekly anticipated and preliminarily tasted. He desired that this fellowship would be our reality. Our rest is no more passive than his rest; our rest must also be characterized by bringing restoration and redemption to ourselves, our families, our friends, and to the community we are a part of. “Christians believe that Sabbath has been forever changed through the Resurrection. Jesus was raised on the eighth day, becoming for us a new creation, giving us back time in a way we would not have had without God’s raising Jesus from the dead. Just as God entrusted to Israel the Sabbath so that the world might know God’s intentions for Creation, so Christian worship on the day of the Resurrection, thereby signaling that God’s promise to Israel has gone to all the world. All are created to share the rest, the salvation, that comes from worship of the true God. In our Sunday worship Christians serve the world by showing the world that God has not left us alone and that we have good work to do (Hauerwas).”

Valley of Vision: A Puritan Prayer July 21, 2006

Lord, high and holy, meek and lowly, Thou hast brought me to the valley of vision, where I live in the depths but see Thee in the heights; hemmed in by mountains of sin I behold Thy glory. Let me learn by paradox that the way down is the way up, that to be low is to be high, that the broken heart is the healed heart, that the contrite spirit is the rejoicing spirit, that the repenting soul is the victorious soul, that to have nothing is to possess all, that to bear the cross is to wear the crown, that to give is to receive, that the valley is the place of vision. Lord, in the daytime stars can be seen from deepest wells, and the deeper the wells the brighter Thy stars shine; let me find Thy light in my darkness, Thy life in my death, Thy joy in my sorrow, Thy grace in my sin, Thy riches in my poverty, Thy glory in my valley.

Sermon July 9, 2006

It’s often argued in Reformed circles that the sermon is the high point of a worship service–everything leads up to the sermon, then there’s the sermon, then everything leads down from the sermon. So one might ask, what is a sermon? Kevin Vanhoozer, in typical style, offers a compelling answer to just that question:

“The sermon, not some leadership philosophy or management scheme, remains the prime means of pastoral direction and hence the pastor’s paramount responsibility. The good sermon contains both script analysis and situation analysis. It is in the sermon that the pastor weaves together theo-dramatic truth and local knowledge. The sermon is the best frontal assault on imaginations held captive by secular stories that promise other ways to the good life. Most important, the sermon envisions ways for the local congregation to become a parable of the kingdom of God. It is the pastor’s/director’s vocation to help congregations hear (understand) and do (perform) God’s word in and for the present.”

Makes me want to hear a sermon.

Communal Worship July 4, 2006

Colin Gunton’s theology has stood out to me because it has proven time and again to be thoroughly Trinitarian, thoroughly God-centered. As Gunton interacts with what it means to be human, he always holds in tension the unfathomable reality that creatures are able to commune with their Creator; that we are images of God and therefore capable of knowing him. Douglas Knight, a theologian and former student of Gunton, here reflects on how this impacts our worship of God:

“Gunton taught that we creatures are able to know God because the Holy Spirit enables us to confess Jesus, who confesses God the Father. Often quoting Irenaeus to say that the Son and the Spirit are the two hands of the Father, Gunton showed that the doctrine of the Trinity provides us with a doctrine of mediation – God himself is not only the (christological) content but the (pneumatological) medium and bearer of that content. He argued that God is now at work making possible not only our worship and knowledge of him, but also our recognition of one another. God is the means by which I may see you for who you are, and let you become what God intends you to be – a unique and particular person.” quoted from www.douglasknight.org

As Knight points out here, the same way we come to know and love God we come to recognize who our brothers and sisters are. The Spirit who carries us in our worship of God also carries us in our relationships with one another, enabling us to recognize the dignity and nobility that we are created with. With the Spirit bearing the truth of Christ’s confession concerning the Father, we are simultaneously drawn into God’s own love for himself as well as for his people. Consequently, learning to know and love one another occurs alongside learning to worship God. I don’t think there could be a stronger argument for communal, or corporate, worship.

Incarnational Ministry and the Drama of Doctrine June 27, 2006

Incarnational ministry, fully being one’s self for others, is an integral part of worship. We can only give ourselves to others when we have ourselves, but we only have our true selves when we give ourselves to God. Incarnational ministry, then, is also a necessary consequence of worship that itself leads us back to worship. Kevin Vanhoozer, in his Drama of Doctrine, compares Christians to actors who are enfleshing a given script in order to communicate a significant message (consider the *astericks* as italics):

“…[T]he telos of the actor/disciple is spiritual communication: performing *Christ* in the power of the Spirit, speaking and acting as a *persona* ‘in Christ’ should speak and act. It is not enough merely to know what to do; one has to become the kind of person for whom such doing comes *naturally*. Doctrine aids the process of becoming integrated persons whose characters coincide with their roles. *Doctrine not only indicates what it is we are to do to participate fittingly in the drama of redemption but actually helps disciples become spiritually fit.* It does this by exposing our mechanical acting and by stripping off our false masks that require so much time and energy to maintain. In place of these false masks, doctrine discloses our true identities, summoning us to become who we are: persons called, known, and loved by God. Doctrine does not construct new masks but unveils our true faces, faces that reflect the glory of God seen in the face of Jesus Christ (2 Cor. 3:18; 4:6).”

So, fully being one’s self means that, as Christians, by the power of the Holy Spirit we are successively entering deeper and deeper into Christ’s way of being human. We are realizing in our lives with other people the eschatological, the promised, reality of being like Christ. The fact that we get to experience being redeemed humanity now is a fact of grace that must draw us into one another’s lives in such a way that the intentional and self-conscious worship of God is unavoidably elicited in our relationships.

I’m not so good at this.