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During grad school in New England I took a class with Tom Wright at Harvard Divinity School in which he explained how certain titles commonly used of Jesus, such as “Lord,” “Son of God,” “Savior of the world,” etc., were first used of the Roman Emperor. Later that same week, in my exegesis of Revelation class, Greg Beale made the same point. It was then the light bulb went on: “This would make a great book! Line up the titles for Caesar and his empire, show how those conventions are relevant today, and explain how the kingdom of Christ directly subverts them.”

Years have passed since that eureka moment and I have not thought much about the concept since them, that is, until today when I picked up a copy of the new book by Trevin Wax titled Holy Subversion: Allegiance to Christ in an Age of Rivals. Trevin beat me to it, and I’m so glad he did because he has done a marvelous job.

In eight chapters Trevin explains how Jesus subverts self, success, money, leisure, sex, power, and a brilliant chapter called “subversive evangelism” in which he confronts the problems that emerge from tolerance and consumerism.

I can’t adequately express how excited I am about this book. It’s well written, substantive, and prophetic in its application. If you’re looking for a clear, readable text on discipleship, one that will help you to search and destroy the idols in your soul, look no further.

The following post is from Ray Ortlund. Read it thoughtfully; it just might change your life!

“You turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God.” 1 Thessalonians 1:9

You and I are not integrated, unified, whole persons. Our hearts are multi-divided. There is a board room in every heart. Big table. Leather chairs. Coffee. Bottled water. Whiteboard. A committee sits around the table. There is the social self, the private self, the work self, the sexual self, the recreational self, the religious self, and others. The committee is arguing and debating and voting. Constantly agitated and upset. Rarely can they come to a unanimous, wholehearted decision. We tell ourselves we’re this way because we’re so busy with so many responsibilities. The truth is, we’re just divided, unfocused, hesitant, unfree.

That kind of person can “accept Jesus” in either of two ways. One way is to invite him onto the committee. Give him a vote too. But then he becomes just one more complication. The other way to “accept Jesus” is to say to him, “My life isn’t working. Please come in and fire my committee, every last one of them. I hand myself over to you. Please run my whole life for me.”  That is not complication; that is salvation.

“Accepting Jesus” is not just adding Jesus. It is also subtracting the idols.

I was recently reading a blog post from my friend Frank Beckwith titled “Sola Scriptura and the scope of the canon: a reflection on my philosophical reflection.” In it Frank differentiates his view from the argument that Sola Scriptura is self-refuting, a popular position among conservative Catholic apologists. In question is whether the interpretive key for the canon’s formation (and eventually for biblical interpretation) exists “outside” of the text itself. To the extent that one regards it to be so (extra-biblical) he has undermined the “Sola” of Sola Scriptura. In what follows I want to offer a quote from Kevin Vanhoozer’s book The Drama of Doctrine where, in his section titled “The Canon as Rule,” he presents an anecdote from Irenaeus that I think sheds helpful light on the issue:

“Irenaeus compares the relationship of the Rule of Faith to Scripture to a mosaic whose pieces can be variously arranged to form a portrait of a king or a picture of a dog. Mosaics in the ancient world were shipped unassembled, but they included a plan or key (hypothesis) that served as directions for their proper arrangement. Irenaeus likens the Rule of Faith to the correct hypothesis that allows the church to see the face of the king—Christ—in the Scriptures rather than a dog, which is what the heretics think they see because they have not arranged the mosaic correctly. The Rule is thus accountable to the text and its subject matter precisely because it seeks to provide the key for its correct understanding. Hence the authority of the Rule depends on its conforming to the Scriptures. This explains Irenaeus’s heroic efforts to demonstrate that the Rule of Faith indeed accords with Scripture.”

Such a view doesn’t look to natural theology as the source of the Bible’s hypothesis (interpretive key) or to other extra-biblical criteria; rather, the key emerges from divine revelation–in the Hebrew Scriptures, the person of Jesus, the teaching of the Apostles, and eventually in the inspired text. In other words, the way we decide what is canonical and what constitutes right teaching is not teaching about the Bible, but, from our post apostolic vantage point, teaching that extends from the Bible.

Andy Crouch has a fine article titled “Letter to a soon-to-be published author.” I decided to review it this week after my piece on Catholic resurgence in America was published by Christianity Today Online. As Crouch suggests, those who write or speak in public must be conscious of the particular temptation to confuse our image with Christ’s image. As a safeguard, Crouch proposes prayerfully reflecting upon John Wesley’s so called Covenant Prayer (below). It is a good reminder that Jesus Christ is Lord, and we are not.

I am no longer my own, but thine.
Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt.
Put me to doing, put me to suffering.
Let me be employed for thee or laid aside for thee,
exalted for thee or brought low for thee.
Let me be full, let me be empty.
Let me have all things, let me have nothing.
I freely and heartily yield all things to thy pleasure and disposal.
And now, O glorious and blessed God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit,
thou art mine, and I am thine.
So be it.
And the covenant which I have made on earth,
let it be ratified in heaven.
Amen.

Dr. Rick Lints, Andrew Mutch Distinguished Professor of Systematic and Historical Theology at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary, was (and is) one of my favorite professors. Tonight, while Angela and her girlfriend enjoyed partnering in ministry, I sat on the couch beside a bowl of popcorn reading an article by Dr. Lints from the Gordon-Conwell website. It struck me how Rick’s proposal offers enormous insight into the challenge of relating constructively to our Catholic friends and loved ones, as he writes:

“We must engage and not merely tolerate diversity in the ecclesial square. The conflicts of a fractured ecclesial polity lie not with keeping emotional distance from those with whom we have fundamental disagreements. It comes rather in the radically counter-intuitive claim that we show hospitality to those with whom we have deep disagreements.14 We invite the outsider into the common wisdom of our tradition, recognizing that we share the sacred wisdom of the gospel, even if we articulate differently. We take their ideas seriously not primarily to overthrow their ideas, but rather with the expectation that wisdom is found in the strangest of places, even among those who disagree with us.

Changing the ethos of our ecclesial identity may well require that we think of the commitment to our tradition less in terms of defeating an enemy and more in terms of showing hospitality to the stranger. Without a home (tradition) there is no place to invite the stranger into. A traditionless Christian is indeed a person without a home. But a tradition construed as a fortress is a most inhospitable place for strangers as well. Our desire is not merely to have a seat at the ecclesial table, but to prepare the meal at the table, which the stranger will find curiously satisfying. It is a call to invite the stranger into our tradition as a radical act of hospitality. If the meal is satisfying to the stranger, it is not because we have prepared the meal but rather that the food itself nourishes the soul. And in turn we may be invited into the stranger’s tradition and taste some of its delicacies.

Is not the analogy with the Lord’s Supper close at hand? The Lord invites us to His table as an expression of our reconciliation to Him in the gospel. The result is that this reconciliation spills over into our relationship with others. We bear responsibilities to each other because we have shared the Lord’s Supper together. It reminds us that it is the Lord’s Supper, not Athanasius’, not Augustine’s, not Luther’s, not Calvin’s, not Wesley’s.

The analogy of sharing our tradition with others opens us to the radical act of hospitality at the heart of the gospel itself. A tradition embedded in the gospel is finally not our tradition at all. It is something to which we belong rather than it belonging to us. And we only belong to it insofar as it incorporates us into the faith delivered once and all to the saints.”

Endnotes

14 Martin Marty, When Faiths Collide (Oxford: Blackwell, 2005) extends this suggestion at great length as a prophetic call to Christian churches to engage global diversity on distinctively Christian terms.

This morning I enjoyed conversation over breakfast with Congressman Peter Roskam. The main topic of discussion, as you might guess, was healthcare reform. Having a child with severe hemophilia, whose medical costs are quite high, stimulated a myriad of questions.

Since my pastoral role obligates me to avoid partisanship, I won’t say much about how impressed I was with Peter; but I would like to elucidate one element of our conversation. It concerns the inadequacy of collectivism.

The French economist, statesman, and writer, Frédéric Bastiat (1801-1850), lived through some of France’s most turbulent years in the aftermath of the 1789 Revolution. The revolutionaries insisted on the government taking over, by force if necessary, the ownership and control of the means of production. Then these politicians would manage and distribute the country’s wealth. In response, Bastiat was a tireless exponent of free trade and a critic of socialism, questioning the capacity and warrant of socialists to make choices on behalf of people.

“The claims of these organizers of humanity raise another question which I have often asked them and which, so far as I know, they have never answered: If the natural tendencies of mankind are so bad that it is not safe to permit people to be free, how is it that the tendencies of these organizers are always good? Do not the legislators and their appointed agents also belong to the human race? Or do they believe that they themselves are made of a finer clay than the rest of mankind? The organizers maintain that society, when left undirected, rushes headlong to its inevitable destruction because the instincts of the people are so perverse. The legislators claim to stop this suicidal course and to give it a saner direction. Apparently, then, the legislators and the organizers have received from Heaven an intelligence and virtue that place them beyond and above mankind; if so, let them show their titles to this superiority.

They would be the shepherds over us, their sheep. Certainly such an arrangement presupposes that they are naturally superior to the rest of us. And certainly we are fully justified in demanding from the legislators and organizers proof of this natural superiority.”1

Furthermore, Bastiat sought to correct the mistake of thinking that the state and its citizens are one. Not every social benefit is the responsibility of the government. His ideas are as applicable and pointed today as they were when he expressed them.

“Socialism, like the ancient ideas from which it springs, confuses the distinction between government and society. As a result of this, every time we object to a thing being done by government, the socialists conclude that we object to its being done at all. We disapprove of state education. Then the socialists say that we are opposed to any education. We object to a state religion. Then the socialists say that we want no religion at all. We object to a state-enforced equality. Then they say that we are against equality. And so on, and so on. It is as if the socialists were to accuse us of not wanting persons to eat because we do not want the state to raise grain.”2

Footnotes:

1 Frédéric Bastiat, The Law, trans. Dean Russell (Irvington-on-the-Hudson, NY: The Foundation for Economic Education, Inc, 1998), 63-64.

2 Ibid., 29. This translation can be found online at The Library of Economics and Liberty, http://www.econlib.org/library/Bastiat/basEssContents.html.

I’m constantly asked—what is the difference between Catholic and Protestant faith? Really. Not just a comparison between Luther and Trent, but on the ground among Catholics who are active in their local parish, what does the difference look like? Here is one way to answer the question, in the words of an outstanding son of the Catholic Church, Ignatius Loyola.

Some historians claim that Loyola studied at the University of Paris simultaneous to John Calvin. This is fascinating on numerous levels, especially because Loyola’s convictions about Christian life are at many points directly opposed to Calvin’s. Their divergence is obvious, for instance, in Loyola’s so called “Rules for Thinking, Feeling, and Judging with the Church,” which appear at the conclusion of his Spiritual Exercises. The following selections from Loyola’s Rules (of which there are 18) highlight two lessons: the shape of Catholic faith from his perspective and its stark contrast to Reformed Protestantism. While there are profound differences between 16th Century Catholicism and today’s post Vatican II world, I would suggest that the following issues, precisely because they are so basic, are generally true today among conservative Catholics as they were then. Perhaps most striking of all is number 13.

The First Rule. With all judgment of our own put aside, we ought to keep our minds disposed and ready to be obedient in everything to the true Spouse of Christ our Lord, which is our holy Mother the hierarchical Church.

The Fourth. We should strongly praise religious institutes, virginity and continence, and marriage too, but not as highly as any of the former.

The Fifth. We should praise the vows of religion, obedience, poverty, chastity, and vows to perform other works of supererogation which conduce to perfection.

The Sixth. We should praise relics of saints, by venerating the relics and praying to the saints. We should extol visits to stational churches, pilgrimages, indulgences for jubilees and crusades, and the lighting of candles in churches.

The Seventh. We should praise precepts of fast and abstinence, for example, in Lent, on ember days, vigils, Fridays and Saturdays; also penances, not only interior but also exterior.

The Eighth. We ought to praise church buildings and their decorations; also statues and paintings, and their veneration according to what they represent.

The Thirteenth. To keep ourselves right in all things, we ought to hold fast to this principle: What seems to be to be white, I will believe to be black if the hierarchical Church thus determines it. For we believe that between Christ our Lord, the Bridegroom, and the Church, his Spouse, there is the one same Spirit who governs and guides us for the salvation of our souls. For it is by the same Spirit and Lord of ours who gave the ten commandments that our Holy Mother Church is guided and governed.

The Fifteenth. We ought not to fall into a habit of speaking much about predestination.

The Seventeenth. Similarly, we ought not to speak so lengthily and emphatically about grace that we generate a poison harmful to freedom of the will. Hence one may speak about faith and grace as much as possibly, with God’s help, for the greater praise of the Divine Majesty; but not in such way or manners, especially in times as dangerous as our own, that works and free will are impaired or thought worthless.

George E. Ganss, S.J. The Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius, A Translation and Commentary. (St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1992), 133-137.

Before we go too far into 2010, you’ll want to show your wife how much you love her, preferably with something tangible and memorable. I would suggest the following… in just ten easy steps:

1. Get a babysitter, remove kids from the house.

2. Suggest that your wife go shopping and get herself something nice. Give her a specific time when she should return.

3. Set dining room table: flowers, candles, and Andrea Bocelli playing in background

4. Put on masculine looking apron. Trust me on this. Women love men in uniform and also in an apron (providing it’s not a wimpy, frilly type).

5. Make Italian sauce. Following is a nice recipe

2 lbs. meat (Italian sausage or ground beef)
2 lg. cans (16 oz.) tomato paste
2 cloves garlic
2 tbsp. salt
1/2 tsp. oregano
2 tsp. basil
5 c. water
1 c. red wine (very important)
2 tbsp. sugar (important)
1 lg. onion, chopped
Olive oil

Brown the meat and add to a large saucepan. Sauté the onion and garlic in a little olive oil and then add to saucepan. Combine rest of ingredients with those in saucepan and bring to a gentle boil. Simmer for 2-4 hours. Serve over your favorite pasta. Can add a few sautéed mushrooms to sauce, if so desired.

6. While sauce is simmering, go to Trader Joes and pickup whatever else looks good—e.g., tomato and mozzarella antipasto, rice balls, stuffed mushrooms, Italian bread, cannoli dessert, chocolate truffles, etc. And be sure to buy imported pasta.

*Note—I know what you’re thinking-isn’t this cheating? Certainly not! Your wife will be so jazzed that you actually made sauce that you’re entitled to get a little help on the rest.

7. Boil pot of water, sprinkle in some salt, cook pasta until it’s ready (after a few minutes periodically eat a fork-full until you’re satisfied)

8. Greet wife with the apron on (make sure you have smeared a little sauce on the apron to demonstrate that you were really into it).

9. If you have an aptitude at writing poetry, go for it. If not, find something on the internet. Don’t start with “Roses are Red….” Present your poem at the start of dessert.

10. When finished, do the dishes.

My colleague, Josh Moody, offered this thought provoking prayer from Psalm 139 on Sunday night:

“O LORD, you have searched me and known me! You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar. You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O LORD, you know it altogether. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it.”

Lord, we constantly feel that we are invisible to you. We feel that you do not notice what we do. We work hard. We try hard. Do you see? Do you know?

When we go through hard times we feel it means little to you. When we are surrounded by darkness we feel we are hid from you. We think that our thoughts are unknown to you, and our actions of little consequence to you, and our circumstances beyond your care.

How different is the reality. Your word teaches us that you know everything. You are eager like a lover inspecting and watching over us. There is nothing hid from your compassionate gaze. Even our thoughts are an open book to you.

There is nowhere we can travel. No way we can hide. No clever formulation of words that can put you off the track. You know everything there is to know about us. You know us far better than we know ourselves.

That would be a terrifying thought, if we did not know with what eyes of love you look at us, if we did not know the truth of the gospel that Christ has blotted out all our misdeeds, wrongful desires, and hidden grievances. You look on us with love. And even the darkness cannot prevent the light of your love shining on us.

Help us this New Year to live in the light of that truth. To live as if our ways are known by you, and not only known but sovereignly ordained; that you hem us in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon us. We cannot flee from your path, we cannot leave your sovereign plan. We can sin, and we do. We can make mistakes and we do. And yet – somehow, amazingly – all is under your watchful gaze, and under the sovereign control of your hand upon our lives.

Help us to live with the confidence that comes from that realization. To not live as an atheist does, as if our lives are mere flotsam and jetsam on the undulating waves of fate. To not live as the legalist does, as if our lives were forever waiting for some divine bludgeon to catch us out for not being perfect. But to live as the Christian – full of faith, full of the fear of God but not of man, with joy, hope, and life, and light.

This New Year make us aware that even the darkness is not dark to you.

In Christ’s name. Amen.