A guide to good and evil

John Wesley on Scripture as the tutor of our conscience:

This is a lantern unto a Christian’s feet, and a light in all his paths. This alone he receives as his rule of right or wrong, of whatever is really good or evil. He esteems nothing good, but what is here enjoined, either directly or by plain consequence, he accounts nothing evil but what is here forbidden, either in terms, or by undeniable inference. Whatever the Scripture neither forbids nor enjoins, either directly or by plain consequence, he believes to be of an indifferent nature; to be in itself neither good nor evil; this being the whole and sole outward rule whereby his conscience is to be directed in all things. (From “The Witness of Our Own Spirit“)

I wonder what would happen if we were to apply this system to our own values. If we took the list of things that we call “good,” how many of them would we find named as such in Scripture?

I suspect a great many of the the things we call good could rise to no more than indifference in Wesley’s system. Some would fall into the “evil” bin. And some of the things we consider bad or evil might very well show up on the “good” list. (I am thinking here of suffering after reading 1 Peter this afternoon.)

Of course, it is hard to know how to apply Wesley’s proposed system. The key verbs are “enjoin” and “forbidden.” The second we probably know, but the first one may not be as familiar. Indeed, two of the three meanings of the word in the Merriam-Webster Dictionary are negative. The definition that makes sense of Wesley’s words is this one: “to direct or impose by authoritative order or with urgent admonition.”

So, what is good for us to do are only those things expressly directed upon us in Scripture. What is evil are only those things that are directly forbidden.

But immediately we must modify things. Wesley taught — along with a huge number of other Christians — that in Christ the “ceremonial” laws of the Old Testament were no longer binding. Neither were the “civil” laws. Only the “moral” laws and commands are still in force. Exactly which Old Testament commands go in each category is not always crystal clear, though.

Neither is it always clear that Wesley himself clung tightly to this system.

Take slavery, for instance. Scripture neither demands that God’s people acquire slaves nor does it forbid it. It appears that slavery — in the abstract — is an indifferent thing by Wesley’s system. But, of course, Wesley was a vehement critic of slavery as it was practiced in his day. He found it so outrageous that it offend even sub-biblical morality. I am aware of no place that he takes up arguments about the biblical witness on slavery.

I am left with the conclusion that his system was not so simple and may not have been internally consistent. And yet I find myself drawn to the idea that we would benefit in our day — as Christians — if we at least tried it out more seriously.

As a start, perhaps, we might turn to the Sermon on the Mount and begin to draw up there a list of good and evil actions.

Reading Isaiah 55:1-9, part 2

A reading for the third Sunday in Lent: Isaiah 55:1-9

Isaiah 55:6-7 has to be one of the key texts for evangelical preaching.

Seek the LORD while he may be found, call upon him while he is near; let the wicked forsake their way, and the unrighteous their thoughts; let them return to the LORD, that he may have mercy on them, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.

John Wesley’s journals and sermons echo with that phrase “Seek the Lord while he may be found.” Justification, he preached and taught, is the pardon of God. This was a go-to text for Wesley.

Here is what I have found in preaching, though. Most of the people who come to hear preaching do not experience themselves as lost. They do not have a sense of God’s distance. They do not feel themselves to be in need of mercy. They frequently have needs and wants to place before God, but are not anxious about God’s pardon.

Is this where reading the gospel reading (Luke 13:1-9) offers a map? There is a post for tomorrow.

Reading 1 Corinthians 10:1-13

A reading for the third Sunday in Lent: 1 Corinthians 10:1-13

Wow. I’ve read this before, but today the words leap out at me and into conversations in my life.

I do not want you to be unaware, brothers and sisters, that our ancestors were all under the cloud, and all passed through the sea, and all were baptized into Moses in the cloud and in the sea, and all ate the same spiritual food, and all drank the same spiritual drink. For they drank from the spiritual rock that followed them, and the rock was Christ.

Paul’s concern for unity must lie behind this text. The unity of the people is marked by their experiences with God and dependence on God. I’m not sure what the phrase “baptized into Moses” means exactly, but given many recent conversations about baptismal theology  with Metho-friends, I note that all the people were baptized by passing through the sea — not just the adults and people who could choose for themselves to follow Moses, but also the children and the helpless.

Paul also gives us an early warrant for Christian practice of reading the Old Testament as a witness to Christ. This practice is sometimes controversial in the church and seminary these days, but Paul had no problem with making — at least — metaphorical connections between Christ as the source of living water and the rock in the wilderness that Moses struck with his staff.

Nevertheless, God was not pleased with most of them, and they were struck down in the wilderness. Now these things occurred as examples for us, so that we might not desire evil as they did. Do not become idolaters as some of them did; as it is written, “The people sat down to eat and drink, and they rose up to play.” We must not indulge in sexual immorality as some of them did, and twenty-three thousand fell in a single day. We must not put Christ to the test, as some of them did, and were destroyed by serpents. And do not complain as some of them did, and were destroyed by the destroyer.

With my students I call that first word in this section a “turn signal.” Paul’s “nevertheless” is a warning that we are going to change focus, and, boy, do we. Despite the unity of the people, God was not pleased. They were marked by baptism. They ate the bread of life. They drank the cup of salvation together. But God was “not pleased” with their lives. They did evil. They worshiped idols. They were sexually immoral.

And God struck them down by the thousands. (That “not pleased” in Paul sure is an understatement.)

In my reading and seminary, I encounter lots of talk about the names of God. So far, I’ve not heard anyone suggest “the destroyer” as one of the names of God we should use in worship. Wow, what a thought.

These things happened to them to serve as an example, and they were written down to instruct us, on whom the ends of the ages have come. So if you think you are standing, watch out that you do not fall.

Where is once-saved-always-saved? I know we can find other words in Paul to prop up the P in the Calvinist TULIP, but here Paul is writing to well-established Christians telling them they must be careful lest they fall away. Dare we say “backslide”?

No testing has overtaken you that is not common to everyone. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tested beyond your strength, but with the testing he will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it.

And we close with a passage that drives crazy some people I know, well, not this passage exactly. The saying they despise is “God never gives you more than you can handle,” which has roots here in Paul. Two objections come up. First, God is not the source of the things that cause us to be overwhelmed. Second, sometimes life does give me more than I can handle.

What a rich vein of conversation this one verse holds out for us. I am not prepared to offer easy answers to these objections or Paul’s words, but I will carry around the implications of his words and their reverberations in the lives of people I know.

Reading Isaiah 55:1-9, part 1

A reading for the third Sunday in Lent: Isaiah 55:1-9

My daughter wrote a song called “Come to the Waters” inspired by this verse. I can hear her singing it on her guitar when I read this passage.

It reminds me how reception of Scripture is often so personal and particular. We talk in church about “reading in community” and often try to impose or inculcate collective interpretations on the Bible. I do that quite a bit myself on this blog in my advocacy for Wesleyan readings.

But the Scripture is not so compliant as we would have it be.

I wonder how the opening verses of this reading sound to different ears.

I can imagine those for whom the call to come to the waters and to buy and eat without money brings relief and refreshing and peace. Here is an oasis of grace in the desert of the world.

I can also imagine those for whom the call mocks their hunger and their dryness.

We say these words in church. They will be read in the congregations I serve next Sunday. And yet, our flawed and frail congregations are often not places of such abundance. People come looking for something and find us there flogging our way through another service. The preacher seems to be trying to make a point, but it is not clear what it is. The hymn singing is uneven. The carpet is stained.

Or everything goes perfectly. The production is flawless. The pastor is inspiring. The music lifts us out of our seats. We cry during prayers. And yet, some people leave finding they are still thirsty and the ache in their stomach that brought them to church still gnaws at their belly.

The church speaks these words and often tries to live into them, but I can’t escape the feeling that we often treat the church as if it should live up to its proclamation in a way that asks the church to be something it can never be. I even dare to say we make the church an idol. We think the prophet is sending out an invitation to attend next Sunday’s worship service.

The prophet does not say “Come to our church, and you will find water.” He says, “Listen to Yahweh.” I did not notice that until now, but that word “listen” is a the heart of the first few verses. Listen. Listen. Listen.

And so, I wonder if the church should view itself less as the dispenser of the water of life and more as the people gathered together with open ears trying to listen.

If we would only read

Craig Adams thinks that if we would just read our bibles with open hearts and minds, we’d come to share the same conviction that seized John Wesley: true Christianity is inward and outward holiness.

Nothing new under the sun

At a time when I was in great danger of not valuing [the authority of the Bible] enough, you made that important observation: “I see where your mistake lies. You would have a philosophical religion; but there can be no such thing. Religion is the most plain, simple thing in the world. It is only ‘We love him, because he first loved us.’ So far as you add philosophy to religion, just so far you spoil it.” This remark I have never forgotten since; and I trust in God I never shall.

— From a letter John Wesley wrote to William Law, Jan. 6, 1756

We flatter ourselves in the 21st century that we have discovered new spiritual problems. We imagine that our ancestors living in less advanced and blessed ages were mired in darkness, but we see things new and face all manner of new challenges. Chief among these in our day are questions about the reliability of Scripture, questions about the reality of eternal reward and punishment, questions about the necessity of church itself for the salvation of souls. Men such as Rob Bell captivate our attention and the “rise” of the ranks of the spiritual but not religious are seen as harbingers of a new age.

Of course, our fantasy that we live in a unique time when it comes to questions of the spirit would be quickly dissolved if we would read more.

For instance, John Wesley had frequent conversation and correspondence with people who raised the same questions so popular and controversial in our day. There were in 18th century England popular figures who questioned the reality of hell and preached a kind of faith that was all about personal spirituality set free from the trappings of church and Sunday worship. Spiritual but not religious was not invented by us.

William Law was a spiritual writer and teacher who had great influence in England during Wesley’s life. Wesley himself expressed his indebtedness to Law’s works. But Wesley found himself at odds with Law’s mysticism. Law argued against the need for outward means of grace. He wrote that people did not need the trappings of church and organized religion (not his term) to follow the Spirit of Christ that is given to all people. He argued against the doctrine of hell, instead insisting on something like the doctrine of universal purgatory, where the blemishes of our sins would be removed by a time of purging before all are brought to the presence of our Lord in heaven. (When I read such notions, I am reminded quite strongly of Bell’s popular book Love Wins.)

I do not deny that our circumstances are different than Wesley’s. The general “plausibility structure” of our culture is different. The social norms are different. The religious landscape is different. But I resist the idea that we face questions about belief and practice that are all that different. The context in which the questions are raised may be different, but the questions themselves appear to be quite commonplace throughout Christian history.

In his lengthy reply to Law, Wesley tackled questions of the reality of hell with an appeal to Scripture, one that historical-critical methods make problematic for many 21st century clergy, but one that sets issue in exactly the same terms that we discuss it today.

Now, thus much cannot be denied, that these texts speak as if there were really such a place as hell, as if there were a real fire there, and as if it would remain forever. I would then asked but one plain question: If the case is not so, why did God speak as if it was?

In our day, we would halt Wesley here with questions about inspiration and revelation, but I am reminded in reading his words of people who stand up at annual conference when we debate contentious issues and raise the simple question: What does the Bible say? They are putting the question much as Wesley did.

Say you, “To affright men from sin?” What, by guile, by dissimulation, by hanging out false colours? Can you believe it of Him? Can you conceive the Most High dressing up a scarecrow, as we do to fright children? Far be it from him! If there be then any such fraud in the Bible, the Bible is not of God. And indeed this must be the result of all: If there be “no unquenchable fire, no everlasting burnings,” there is no dependence on those writings wherein they are so expressly asserted, nor of the eternity of heaven, any more than of hell. So that if we give up the one, we must give up the other. No hell, no heaven, no revelation!

We might today engage in more layers of debate and argument, but the dispute between Law and Wesley captures in its fundamentals so many of the disputes we have today. Like Wesley, many contemporary Christians cannot fathom how they should be called to find the Bible both the final authority in matters of faith and practice and a book full of errors, lies, and cynical manipulations designed to play upon the credulity of simple folk.

As I read the words of Law and Wesley, I hear so many of the conversations and debates we still have today. I am reminded of that other writer of some fame who wrote, “There is nothing new under the sun.”

Scripture moment: Naked

No creature is hidden from it, but rather everything is naked and exposed to the eyes of the one to whom we have to give an answer. (Hebrews 4:13, CEB)

I was not thinking about this last week while working on my sermon over the gospel reading, but after hearing this verse read twice yesterday and then listening to John Mellencamp’s version of John the Revelator in the car this morning, I found myself wondering if this verse would have raised echoes of Adam in the garden in the early church. Adam was naked and unashamed and then was naked and afraid to be seen by God.

I’m not sure what to make of the allusion if it is there, but it was a thought while taking my son to school.

Link love: Scripture, slavery, Wesley

Here are two interesting posts from around the digital pasture that are worth your time, but don’t really need a lot of comment from me.

Joel Green and David Watson have a book coming out about Scripture and Wesleyanism.

Fred Clark at Patheos has an interesting commentary with some interesting internal links about the debate over slavery and the Bible in the 19th century.