John Meunier

I read this on Dale Tedder’s blog earlier today:

I want to suggest that God’s Word is the sure foundation we need for every sphere of life – for the light and heavy loads. United Methodists believe that God’s Word is authoritative and sufficient for every sphere of our faith and life.

His claim got me looking in my Book of Discipline. Is that what United Methodists believe?

Here are the relevant portions from the Articles of Religion and the Confession of Faith.

Articles of Religion:

The Holy Scripture containeth all things necessary to salvation; so that whatsoever is not read therein, nor may be proved thereby, is not to be required of any man that it should be believed as an article of faith, or be thought requisite or necessary to salvation.

Confession of Faith

We believe the Holy Bible, Old and New Testaments, reveals the Word of God so far as it is necessary for our salvation. It is to be received through the Holy Spirit as the true rule and guide for faith and practice. Whatever is not revealed in or established by the Holy Scriptures is not to be made an article of faith nor is it to be taught as essential to salvation.

If I read this one way, it would seem to contradict Tedder. These clearly focus on the issues of salvation and what is necessary for that end. The doctrinal standards of the UMC do not mention “every sphere of life.”

But then I am reminded of the Wesleyan meaning of salvation: Holiness of heart and life. Salvation is not just about getting a ticket stamped for a seat on the heaven train. It is about the entire character of our lives now. Salvation is to move toward mature and complete holiness in heart and life.

If Scripture “containeth all things necessary” for salvation, then that would include all that is needed for a holy life and holy heart in this world.

This realization, however, does leave one issue that is beyond my grasp at the moment. In logic, there is a difference between being “necessary” and being “sufficient.” Tedder asserts that Scripture is sufficient and authoritative in all spheres of life. Our articles and confession say that Scripture contains all things necessary for salvation. This is an important difference. One I will attempt to muster the mental acuity to tackle in a later post.

Recent comment exchanges on the topic of doubt got me to thinking that we don’t agree on the meaning of the term.

I found this discussion in the Catholic Encyclopedia quite helpful in that it let me see where some of my disagreements are coming from. If you are already tired of the topic of doubt, do not bother to read the link. If – like me – you want to wrestle with the topic of doubt further, the entry is worth your time.

The Ministry Study Commission for the United Methodist Church has released some recommendations as we move toward General Conference 2012.

The recommendations can be found here.

The theological statement of the commission is here.

A news story about the whole matter is here.

From his journal dated March 1747:

I examined the classes. I had been often told, it was impossible for me to distinguish the precious from the vile, without the miraculous discernment of spirits. But I now saw, more clearly than ever, that this might be done, and without much difficulty, supposing only two things: First, Courage and steadfastness in the examiner. Secondly, Common sense and common honesty in the Leader of each class. I visit, for instance, the class of the Close, of which Robert Peacock is the leader. I ask, “Does this and this person in your class live in drunkenness or any outward sin? Does he go to church, and use other means of grace? Does he meet you as often as he has opportunity?” Now, if Robert Peacock has common sense, he can answer these questions truly; and if he has common honesty, he will. And if not, some other in the class has both, and can and will answer for him. Where is the difficulty then of finding out if there be any disorderly walker in this class, and, consequently, in any other? The question is not concerning the heart, but the life. And the general tenor of this, I do not say cannot be known, but cannot be hid without a miracle. …

The society, which the first year consisted of above eight hundred members, is now reduced to four hundred. But, according to the old proverb, the half is more than the whole. We shall not be ashamed of any of these, when we speak with our enemies at the gate.

The church is not a class meeting, but if the church takes baptismal and membership vows seriously, should we be growing by shrinking? Do we need more pastors with courage and steadfastness?

Or are we not turning Wesley’s proverb on its head by saying that 800 is better than 400, even if half the 800 are “disorderly walkers” who do not really seek God’s kingdom or salvation? (I ask the question as one with little of either quality.)

Doubt has a pretty good reputation in church these days.

I wonder if that is a good thing.

I can’t think of too many situations in life in which I find doubt a virtue. When I need my furnace fixed, I don’t want a repairman who is doubtful about the right way to do the job. When I need my heart fixed, I don’t want a surgeon who doubts his ability to do the job. When I go to the bank, I don’t want the teller to be in doubt about the balance in my account.

Oh, but faith and religion aren’t these kinds of hard, practical things, you might say. Well, we might have a disagreement about that, but let’s take your lead for now.

In college, the absolute best instructors I had were the ones who thought they knew exactly what Shakespeare or Plato meant. They had read the materials. They had listened to and participated in the debates. They understood the other sides and other opinions. But when it came down to it, they were sure of what they believed to be the case. It was the students who floundered around in doubt – usually doubt about what we needed to write to get an “A.”

Being open to new ideas and new information, I understand. Trying to understand why someone believes something different, I appreciate. Listening to each other, I applaud.

But why the praise – even glorification – of doubt? We cannot escape uncertainty about many things. We are finite and imperfect. Our ways are not God’s ways, and our thoughts are not God’s thoughts. Doubt is unavoidable so long as we remain merely human.

But I can think of no other phase of my life in which I consider doubt something to be desired. The only times I can think of when it is good to be in doubt is when the only certain alternatives are bad. When a plane goes down in flames, doubt about whether your child got on board may be the only ray of hope for a parent. But in most situations, doubt is something we want to eliminate or at least reduce. Why do we cherish it so much when speaking of the most important of things, when speaking of God?

Two different voices in the United Methodist Church about the virtues of counting heads.

Bishop Will Willimon on the conference dashboard he’s set up in North Alabama and what he’s learned about increasing attendance.

The Rev. Patricia Farris repents of her number counting days as a DS and worries that counting will lead us astray.

From John Wesley’s May 1752 journal:

Fri. 15 — In the afternoon I preached at Alemouth. How plain an evidence have we here that even our outward work, even the societies, are not of man’s building! With all our labour and skill, we cannot, in nine years’ time, form a society in this place; even though there is none that opposes, poor or rich: Nay, though the two richest men in the town, and the only gentlemen there, have done all which was in their power to further it.

From John Wesley’s April 1752 journal.

About five, Saturday, 25, we took horse, and made it to Pocklington. I was sorry, when I found it was the fair-day, that notice had been given of my preaching; especially when I heard there was no society, and scarce any one awakened in the town. The usual bitterness of several who met us in the street made the prospect still more unpromising. However, I went to see the room provided for preaching, but found it was not above five yards square. I then looked at a yard which was proposed; but one circumstance of this I did not like. It was plentifully furnished with stones: Artillery ready at hand for the devil’s drunken companions. Just then it began to rain; upon which a gentleman offered a large commodious barn.

I’ve been struggling to come to grips in recent weeks with a hole in my own personal theology.

My theology of suffering is entirely passive. When I read a story of Jesus Christ’s suffering or read the passages in the epistles about suffering or endurance, I read them almost always in terms of passivity. Suffering is something that is inflicted upon Christ.

I find this view, which I have held for a long time without being aware of it, inadequate. It puts Jesus, the second person of the Trinity, in the role of passive victim. It puts the agency outside of God and into the hands of the Romans.

That view authorizes – at least in my life – all kinds of bad patterns of behavior and thought. It sanctions victim language and victim thinking. It voids the testimony of the New Testament that suffering is endured not because we have no choice as passive objects, but because suffering is the only road to God’s kingdom.

In a sermon a few weeks ago, I used the movie Rocky as an illustration of Jesus carrying his cross. I was not really happy with the illustration at the time, and I don’t often use movie illustrations because they do not fit well. But my unease with Rocky Balboa as righteous sufferer is because righteous suffering is so alien to my theology.

Part of this is biographical. I have never been much of an athlete. I’m clumsy, and I have painful flat feet. In school, I’ve always been smart enough to do well without trying too hard. So, the virtues of suffering to accomplish a goal have always eluded me.

Without going all Mark Driscoll, I’ve avoided the counsel of Paul to “fight the good fight” or of Hebrews to “run the race.” All similar words in the Bible and the example of Jesus at Gethsemane and Golgotha have been largely lost on me.

And I’m experiencing that as a spiritual weakness right now.

Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner.

Here are John Wesley’s thoughts on why conviction of sin comes before salvation.

This is a fundamental truth; none will come to Christ as a Redeemer until he is thoroughly convinced he wants a Redeemer. No man will ever come to him as a Saviour, till he knows and feels himself a lost sinner. None will come to the “Physician” but “they that are sick,” and are thoroughly sensible of it; that are deeply convinced of their sinful tempers, as well as sinful words and actions.

Reading Wesley’s words, I see the logic of it. He makes a good point. Who would seek Jesus as either redeemer or saviour if they did not need redemption or salvation?

And yet, some of my friends tell me their first coming to Jesus was not on these terms. As one put it once, “I had no awareness of myself as a sinner when I came to Christ. I knew that Jesus was the winning team, and I wanted to be on that team.”

John Wesley was nothing if not an advocate for testing our interpretations of Scripture against the experience of living a Christian life. We sometimes run too far with that, but Wesley did explain the soundness of some of his teachings and the unsoundness of others on the basis of the experience of everyday Christians.

So, that leads me to wonder if the experience of many Christians indicates that Wesley placed too much importance on the necessity of being conscious of sin. Or could it be that some of my friends have not yet come all the way to Jesus the redeemer and saviour?

Or is there some third answer that eludes my grasp?