Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Christianity Without Church?

Why does organized religion matter? Isn't faith a private, personal, subjective thing, after all? It's a relationship with Jesus, so who cares about getting all gussied up and driving to a building every Sunday morning? This is the kind of thinking Kevin DeYoung examines in a Christianity Today interview about his new book, Why We Love the Church.

DeYoung points out that while the term church can refer to believers in general, two Christians meeting at Starbucks does not constitute a true church, i.e. a defined local community of believers. Why not? DeYoung says that the church as an institution has a structured litugry (teaching, singing, praying, ordinances) and offices (pastor/elder/bishop and deacon/deaconess). This is another important meaning of the word ekklesia. Coming together in a regular, organized manner is essential, he says, to have a lasting impact. (It's also commanded of us in Heb. 10:25.) Furthermore, he claims that many of those who care decrying the necessity of an organized church are, quite simply, immature in the faith. I tend to agree with this assessment. Organization, structure and even routine are extremely necessary for Christians. Let me explain.

Imagine that a group of Christians decided they were no longer going to celebrate Christmas by purchasing gifts, decorating, caroling, seeing family, etc. After all, December 25 isn't really Jesus' birthday, and we all just do the same things over and over again, year after year. Besides, what do any of those things have to do with one's relationship to Christ? They're just external trappings, so it is asserted. This, of course, is missing the point. All of those activities are part of the tradition of Christmas. Giving gifts reminds us of Christ's ultimate gift. Family get togethers provide a structured, planned time of fellowship with kin, something we need to stay connected to one another for a lifetime. And perhaps this is the only time each year when Luke 1-2 is read.

Tradition, organization and structure allow for remembering, learning and growth opportunities over the long term. There is certainly a place for spontaneous meetings over coffee, but this alone will not contribute to lasting growth. Fellowship, teaching, congregational singing and prayer are all part of the essential dynamic called the local church, the involvement in which is expected by all beleivers. One should question its necessity ony with great care.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

A Concise History of Beards--Mine, Too!

Ever since I was 18, I have almost always sported a goatee or a full beard. Periods of clean-shavenness have been exceedingly rare and short-lived. I recently started thinking, why do I prefer having facial hair? An interesting question, one which I will answer shortly. Before I do, though, I thought I would share a brief pogonological comment or two. So here it is, ladies and gentlemen: A concise history of the beard in Western civilization.

The oldest flint razors that have been discovered thus far date to around 30,000 BCE. This means that men living prior to this date had no choice but to walk around fully bearded, wearing the skins of saber-tooth tigers they killed themselves. After that, the history of facial hair gets a little fuzzy (no pun intended) for about 27,000 years. Enter the ancient Jews, Greeks and Romans. The Israelites, of course, all had beards, since Leviticus 19:27 forbid shaving (or so it was interpreted). Thus growing a beard was a God-honoring prospect, a profoundly pious act. The ancient Greeks also revered the beard, considering it a sign of wisdom and virility. The most famous Greek of all, Alexander the Great, changed the social norm when he commanded his armies to enter battle cleanly shaven. Why? The enemy could grab one's beard during hand-to-hand combat, putting oneself at extreme disadvantage! The Romans, too, preferred the clean-cut look (at least after 300 BCE, which is when the first barber reached Rome), considering facial hair to denote slovenliness.

After these ancient societies collapsed, Europe descended into the Dark Ages. Apparently pogonologists were in short supply, because I could find no information about beards during that time (can you believe it?). We can, however, pick up in our history of the beard in the Middle Ages. 15th-century Europe was a beardless society; the fad was reborn in the 16th century. At this time, the first association of beards and politics appears. Catherine the Great did her best to do away with beards, because to sport one was to protest the religious climate of the day. In fact, priests who had traditionally been clean-shaven as a show of their celibacy, grew out their beards (and got married) to send a message. This love affair with the beard was short-lived, however; by the 1600s, they were no longer in vogue. That this was the case can be seen in Peter I. He wanted to be like the West so much that in 1698 he forbade his fellow Russians to grow beards, and by 1705 he was exacting a 100-ruble tax on men who defied his orders.

Beards were by and large out of style from that point until the Civil War (thanks to a little help from men like Abraham Lincoln and Ambrose Burnside). The mantra of the day, of course, was "the bigger, the better." But the mighty beard took another downturn in WWI. Soldiers were required to shave, since a grizzly face would inhibit gas masks from sealing tightly. Also during that era, movies were becoming more and more popular, and of course, many flicks were about the war, featuring actors portraying soldiers--sans beard for authenticity's sake. Concurrently, major ad campaigns by razor companies emphasized the importance of a good, clean shave. Thus from 1920-1960, beards were virtually forbidden. The arrival of the Beatnik movement in the 50s led some members to grow beards just to be nonconformists. The hippies of the 60s picked up on the habit from them, but they used the beard/long-hair combination as a means of protest against the US government and the Vietnam War. By the 70s, however, this look had become mainstream and carried with it no political baggage. The 1980s saw a return to the hairless face, which persisted until the 2000s, where the trend has been to grow sideburns, goatees and pencil-thin beards.

The beard has been around as long as men have. Over the last 6,000 years or so, men have been shaving their faces and growing out their beards for various reasons--sometimes social, sometimes political, sometimes religious. The beard continually rises in and falls out of style, again, for myriad reasons.

With the prolific history of the beard now stated, I can answer my initial question: Why do I have one? For me, there is no social, religious or political reason. I think, rather, that it comes down to the issue of fatherhood. You see, I have never seen my dad without a full beard. (In fact, in 30+ years of marriage, neither has my mom!) My dad's beard is his most distinguising physical characteristic. I can't imagine him without it--nor do I want to. I suppose his genes allowed me to grow a beard in the first place, but there's more than reproductive biology at work here. Having facial hair just feels right. Being clean-shaven just feels wrong. I don't know how to explain it; I don't know why I feel this way. Perhaps I am trying to emulate him, but especially now as a father myself, I can't imagine taking a razor to my entire face. I can't imagine going through life with a smooth chin. It just ain't right.

For more information on the history of beards, check out the following links:

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Laboring in Vain?

“Therefore, my dear brothers, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.” 1 Corinthians 15:58

Such is Paul’s climactic application for 1 Corinthians 15. He has just argued for the reality and centrality of bodily resurrection for the Christian, how we will one day receive a new, glorious body and live forever in perfect fellowship with God and others. Therefore, because of that great reward which awaits us, we are to stand firm in our faith. Okay, I can see that. An eternity of bliss is worth a few years of enduring hardships. That makes sense well enough. But then Paul adds one more sentence in which he states that our “labor in the Lord is not in vain.”

This is another case where it seems that doctrine and experience are at odds (at least for me). Let me illustrate. I always seem to get the tough nuts to crack, so to speak. The non-Christians in my circle of friends historically have not been all that interested in adopting Christianity as their religion of choice. By and large, they enjoy discussing religion and spiritual things, they have no qualms listening to my point of view, and I get the impression that they might even respect me for believing as I do and living out that belief system. But they have no interest whatsoever in becoming a follower of Christ. The usual culprit is their intellect. They are held prisoner by the idea that things just aren’t that simple as the gospel message would claim. The Bible wasn’t written to be taken so literally. What can we really know about this Jesus guy, anyway? There are so many different religions out there, how can there be just one that’s correct? And the list goes on. Although I know arguments to counter each of these questions, I have also learned that often they don’t do much good. This is what I have come across as I do the work of evangelism: Lots of prayer, lots of good discussions, lots of good friendships for which I am thankful, even, but ultimately no decisions for Christ.

It’s hard to look at this situation repeat itself over and over again in my life and believe that the work is not in vain. What am I accomplishing? What good have I done? How am I screwing up? Perhaps I am being too pessimistic. Perhaps one day I will find out that I did more than I thought. But I won’t know until that day.

I suppose in the end, I have to accept the fact that I did what was asked of me—I have tried, in the power of the Spirit, to be faithful. The results are not up to me. But when one labors long and hard with nothing tangible to show for it, the word failure does crop up in one’s mind.

Am I a faithful failure?

Monday, August 10, 2009

Karma: Garbage In, Garbage Out

Karma is ubiquitous in today's American culture. I hear this term bantered about on the radio, on TV and in conversations. For some reason that, quite honestly, escapes me, people actually believe in karma. I wish to show two reasons why the idea of karma is not viable.

Karma is the idea that moral actions are rewarded or punished through an impersonal system, whether it be some kind of law, or the universe itself, etc.* Let us note first of all that, in order to believe in good and bad actions as the inputs to the karmic system, one must hold to some standard of Good. After all, how can good behavior be rewarded--and more importantly, bad behavior be punished--if there is no standard on which to judge? Karma without the idea of the Good is like a capricious master, deciding your fate on a whim. This is hardly a fair scenario, and if karma isn't about fairness, then what is it about? But this idea of the Good must also be a universal standard, if the universe or a universal law is responsible for punishment and reward. Now, every good postmodernist knows that the first rule of postmodernism is "there are no moral absolutes." So the relativist who believes in karma (and I have yet to meet, see or hear a karma-espouser who is not a moral relativist) is faced with a contradiction--there both is and is not a universal standard of Good.

Now I myself do believe in a universal standard of Good. Should I therefore admit that karma is at least possible, given my worldview? Not quite. Karma runs into another issue when one recalls that it is believed to be an impersonal system: Put a good action into the system, get rewarded; put a bad action into the system, get punished. Here's the rub: How does an impersonal system differentiate between good and bad? Good and bad are moral categories, and only persons have an understanding of moral actions. If, for example, I were to use my computer to hack into Wal-Mart's customer database and steal all of their information, my computer would not stand in my way. It would not send me an email letting me know it disapproved of my actions because they were morally wrong. But were my wife to walk in while I was breaking into the database, she would immediately let me know that what I was doing was wrong. For her, the distinction would be immediate and obvious. For my computer, no distinction would ever be forthcoming. Karma is an impersonal agent, just like a computer. Therefore, karma is not able to know the difference between good and bad.

To reiterate, karma presupposes an absolute standard of Good, which contradicts postmodern moral theory, and it posits the existence of an impersonal agent that can differentiate between good and bad, which is another contradiction, since only persons understand this distinction. This leaves the believer in karma with an untenable assertion on two counts.

In other words, in postmodern America, karma simply cannot be.



*Let us put aside the fact that American karma is a bastardized version of the actual Hindu/Buddhist doctrine. I am only discussing the American version here.

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Something Seems Fishy Here

I received an interesting link from my father-in-law this morning, which I think is very much worth sharing.


Like I said, interesting. Then I stumbled across the transcript of President Obama's weekly address, given today (emphases added). Here are some excerpts:

So, let me explain what reform will mean for you. And let me start by dispelling the outlandish rumors that reform will promote euthanasia, cut Medicaid, or bring about a government takeover of health care. That’s simply not true. This isn’t about putting government in charge of your health insurance; it’s about putting you in charge of your health insurance.

We will require insurance companies to cover routine checkups and preventive care...

We will stop insurance companies from denying coverage because of a person’s medical history...insurance companies will no longer be allowed to drop or water down coverage for someone who has become seriously ill. Your health insurance ought to be there for you when it counts – and reform will make sure it is.

Insurance companies will also have to limit how much you can be charged for out-of-pocket expenses. And we will stop insurance companies from placing arbitrary caps on the amount of coverage you can receive in a given year or a lifetime...
Maybe I should email flag@whitehouse.gov--Obama's words seem awfully fishy to me.

Friday, July 24, 2009

Begging the Question

I typically let most grammar and usage mistakes slide. Mind you, when I find one in print or hear one spoken, it still makes me cringe. I have learned, though, just to let it go, except when I think that pointing it out would be beneficial to all parties involved (for instance, when I am grammarian at a Toastmasters meeting). I come across a few mistakes, however, over and over again, and sometimes I must comment.

The particular oft-misused phrase stuck in my craw at the moment is begging the question. Countless times have I heard or read something like, “The Rockies have been on a tear since firing manager Clint Hurdle. That begs the question, why was Hurdle not fired sooner?” The fact of the matter is Hurdle’s firing does not beg the question of timing. It raises the question.

Begging the question (a.k.a. petitio principii) is a logical fallacy in which a statement or claim is assumed to be true without evidence other than the statement or claim itself. Note that in the phrase begging the question, beg does not mean “plead for” but rather “assume” and question does not mean “a sentence in interrogative form” but rather “the thing one is trying to prove.” Thus, begging the question literally means “assuming the thing one is trying to prove.”

For example, the famous zinger, “When did you stop beating your wife?” begs the question. It assumes that you have been beating your wife, even though no evidence has been produced that you do in fact beat her. Another example is, “OJ could not have killed his wife, because he just wouldn’t do that sort of thing.” It assumes that OJ could not have killed his wife because he would not kill his wife. No evidence is produced to suggest why he would not perform such an act other than “he just wouldn’t.”*

Perhaps I am being way too anal about this, but I believe that clear and cogent thinking is extremely important, and an important part of solid thinking is having a solid understanding of the words and phrases used. Furthermore, not only is the phrase begging the question often misused, the real fallacy of question-begging is common, as well. Thus knowing the true meaning protects you from misusing your words and your logic.

So the next time you read, “The economic crisis begs the question, when will things turn around?” join me in cringing in your chair. Let out a good, hearty scream while you are at it. And then relax by chanting this mantra: It doesn't beg the question; it raises the question...It doesn't beg the question; it raises the question...It doesn't beg the question; it raises the question...It'll make you feel better. I promise.


*Apologies for the misogynistic examples; ladies, please do not take offense!

Monday, July 20, 2009

A Challenging Legacy

I never realized what kind of a man he was until it was too late.

I last saw my grandfather a week ago Sunday. It was my birthday, and Jessica, Brodie and I had traveled back to my hometown in Kansas for a long weekend. All of the family was supposed to come over to my parents' house at 5 PM Saturday to see us and celebrate. A little before 5, Grandma called and said that Grandpa was running a fever. It was decided that they would not come, since there was a baby at the house. A little after 5, Grandma called back and said that Grandpa had fallen. My dad, aunt and cousin left the party to go to my grandparents' house to help out. My cousin, an RN, decided once they were there that Grandpa needed to go to the hospital. That is where he was the next day when I saw him.

I walked into the room, and Dad introduced me to him. Grandpa, whose mind was failing him, said, "I remember Jon, but that's not what he looks like." (I can't blame him for that; I have changed my looks quite a bit over the years.) After we assured Grandpa that I was his grandson Jon, he turned and looked at me and asked, "Are you a Christian?"

This is when I realized what kind of man my Grandpa was. Here he lay dying in a hospital bed. His body was failing him; his mind already had. He wasn't even really clear about who I was. Yet he wanted to make sure that I believed in Christ. His faith somehow, miraculously, was still strong.

I assured him that I was a Christian and introduced him to his newest great-grandson, Brodie. In the course of our short conversation, he repeatedly told me to raise Brodie up to honor his father and mother and as a Christian. Again, I witnessed a man at the end of his days--so weak he couldn't stand--and his primary concern was to make sure that my family and me (who were, for all he knew, strangers) loved Jesus.

He soon fell asleep and I left the room. That was the last time he was lucid, and although he lived for a few more days, that was when I said goodbye to Grandpa. That was also the moment that his legacy was crystalized in my mind. He was a man of faith.

My dad told me about the last thing Grandpa said. He had spotted a new doctor, one he hadn't seen before, and in a garbled mumble, said to him, "Do you believe in Jesus as your personal Lord and Savior?"

A man of faith to the very end.