No Doubt or Know Doubt? pt 1

A large part of college education is to take a group of people who feel that they know everything (college freshmen) and get them to the point where they feel that they don't know anything. That takes a lot of work in the classroom. The goal is to instill a curious bent to the student's intellectual character. To get them to see each new experience (ideological and interpersonal) as an opportunity for learning.

Higher education is good at this. But I wonder how good the church is at this process. Churches, it seems to me, move in the opposite direction: They try to instill certainty. A similar thing happens in political affiliation. You don't see circumspection when Democrats and Republicans square off. I think this is why we live with the rule to never discuss religion or politics in polite conversation. The "feeling of knowing" infuses those discussions, making them very intense but also very unproductive.

So I wonder, can a church survive if it actually tried to undermine the "feeling of knowing" the way higher education does? Probably not. But I think some persons can make this shift. As a consequence, these person seed the church with question-raisers. The presence of these people infuse the faith community with flexibility and curiosity which prevents ossification and stagnation. A healthy church would be a mix of those who feel they know along with people who feel they don't know. The real trick is getting these people to get along with each other and to mutually affirm the gifts each brings to the communal setting.

What a great thought from one of my former professors, Dr. Richard Beck. His blog, Experimental Theology is quite challenging for several reasons. First of all, those who think that the content of my blog is too heavy and serious should not even click on his link (though his sarcasm and humor ensure that even his scholarly work is often light-hearted and enjoyable for nerds like me). However the real challenge of Experimental Theology is that Beck is quite comfortable living into the role he suggests in the extended quote above. Challenging not only assumptions but assumptions which entire systems of thought are often built upon.

While I will not cover this topic in any way like Dr. Beck and his very well researched article, I would like to talk a little about the usefulness of doubt and willingness to question assumptions. And since this post is over a thousand words, I’ll post the rest tomorrow.

The Embodiment of Christ

I recently heard someone say that they tend to refer to the Church less as the Body of Christ and more as the Embodiment of Christ. Subtle difference, maybe one you don’t care for, but it struck me. It is beyond understatement (and should be extremely obvious) to say that there is nothing wrong with the phrase “Body of Christ.” This scriptural description of the Church is a vital corrective to more settled and institutional understandings.

However, embodiment carries an active sense that resonates with me. It is not active in the sense of trying to accomplish something, but rather active because it is alive. To be the Embodiment of Christ in our world is astounding; it simultaneously declares our existence and our mission, our calling and our sending.

I’m looking forward to seeing a friend this weekend. In fact I’m looking forward to the opportunity to once again worship with and learn from her. In preparation for our worship gathering I’ve been thinking about the concept of hospitality – the theme for this Sunday and a topic that has been on my mind in a special way for the past few weeks.

When we arrived here in Burleson a few Wednesdays ago, the community of Christ Journey surrounded us. They showed up to help unload the trucks, to stock our new pantry with food, to shower us with hugs and laughter and greetings…and to share a meal with us. It struck me that people showed up at OUR new house and showed US tremendous hospitality.

This reminded me of Eugene Peterson’s powerful retelling of the story of the road to Emmaus where Jesus joins weary travelers on the trip from Jerusalem to Emmaus (check out Luke 24 if you’re unfamiliar with this passage). I’ve included part of this story on this blog before, but here’s the part that came back to me when our new friends gathered around us, which was highlighted even more after our friends in Mandeville had so lovingly surrounded us during the days and weeks before our departure.

As you enter Emmaus, you are actually feeling calm and almost your old self. You left Jerusalem three hours ago whipsawed by emotions. And now, thanks to this stranger, you are feeling almost normal.

It’s late in the day and time for supper. You’ve been away from home for a week, maybe over a week. There is nothing to eat. Passing a bakery stall you buy a loaf of bread and invite the stranger in for supper. After some coaxing, he comes in. You get out a bottle of wine. The three of you sit down to a simple supper of bread and wine. The stranger then makes a move that takes you aback momentarily. HE takes up the loaf and blesses it. The guest you invited to supper becomes the host offering you supper. After blessing the bread, he breaks it and gives it to you and to Cleopas. Then, and only then, you recognize him. It’s Jesus, alive. It’s resurrection.” (from Eugene Peterson’s, Living the Resurrection. pg 65)

While it isn’t the full expression, giving (and receiving) hospitality is a powerful embodiment of Christ in this world. Hospitality goes beyond feeding the hungry; it sits down at the table and shares the experience of the meal with them – extending not just grace, but love, dignity and community. Hospitality goes beyond merely saying “God loves you,” and even beyond, “I love you.” Hospitality says to someone that our lives would be more impoverished without them.

This isn’t about fixing a fancy dinner and making sure the children are on their best behavior (though feasting can also be a powerful embodiment of Christ). Hospitality is about sharing life together. It is what was expressed by Paul in 1 Thessalonians 2:8 “We were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God, but our lives as well, because you had become so dear to us.”

While I won’t suggest that we begin going into people’s homes and taking charge of the meal time ritual, as Christ did with the companions from Emmaus, I do love this idea of the one invited extending hospitality. It reminds me that often we approach a relationship assuming that we are the host and we find ourselves in the place to instead receive. There may well be a temptation to resist and forcefully maintain our place as the one setting the agenda or bringing the food (literally or metaphorically).

I was blessed while we lived in Louisiana to experience the incredibly humbling experience of receiving hospitality from those “less fortunate” than me. Few encounters in life have impacted me quite as deeply as when someone who I know struggles to pay the electric bills and the continuously mounting medical bills gave a very loving and sacrificial gift to my children. The gift was powerful for several reasons. For one, it is a gift that this person has given to all his grandchildren – thus it was his way of communicating to us the depth of love, commitment and connection he feels with our family…we’re part of his family.

This same family, on a Sunday when Rachel and the boys were in Texas, invited me to their house for lunch because they didn’t want me to have to eat alone…especially on Sunday.

In the past I struggled with accepting hospitality from certain people because I didn’t want to be a burden. In truth this was the lie that hid my pride and ego which preferred to sit in the position of one who offers help to those in need. It is one thing to eat a meal with the poor…it’s another thing all together to be fed by the poor.

Another time I grew frustrated with a person who each month struggled to pay bills and yet she regularly “wasted” money buying people gifts or giving to others who didn’t really need it. I wanted her to be more responsible with her money.

My internal hesitation to bless God for these gifts began to sound a lot like the disciple’s indignant complaint that perfume poured on the head of Jesus could have been sold and given to the poor. What’s more, I began to realize that in my arrogance I was assuming that my giving was less ridiculous. My assumption was that I am a “have” and others are “have nots” instead of the truth, as David Wray has been known to say, “I’m just one hungry beggar sharing bread with another.”

The offer of hospitality is not merely an opportunity for the “haves” to bless the “have nots” - though that is certainly appropriate. It is a way for each of us to embody Christ in a very real and significant sense, and to acknowledge that we all serve from a place of need in anticipation of the day when Jesus himself will fully satisfy those needs.

For some of us, and for different reasons, receiving hospitality may well be more difficult than offering it. Perhaps it is pride, perhaps it is insecurity or perhaps it is a fear of being indebted to someone. In any case we must ask ourselves whether our inability to accept hospitality can negatively impact our ability to embody Christ.

What would have happened if Jesus was unable to receive the anointing of perfume and tears from the “sinful woman” in Luke 7? I don’t have room to go into it here, but I believe that it was in part Jesus’ ability to receive hospitality from the “poor” (whatever kind of poverty they were experiencing) that enabled him to be truly hospitable. Jesus himself declared that he did not come to be served, but to serve – perhaps that’s why people rejoiced when they had the opportunity to serve him!

Out of the Wilderness

There are few things in our lives that are more terrifying than “wandering in the wilderness.” The feeling of being lost…out of control…unsure of absolutely everything…

This wandering is often referred to wistfully by those who’ve never personally experienced it. Those who’ve been home safe for many years may still shudder - or they may have rewritten the experience into a tale somewhat akin to Swiss Family Robinson...or Lost if they aren't a million years old. (Do you remember reading the book, Hatchet ? I loved that book).

But those who are presently wandering...

Have you ever been actually lost in the wilderness - for real, not metaphorically? I have. At first you’re calm enough, “surely if I just keep going this way I’ll get out of here.” Then you start wondering if you’ve seen that tree before. Soon the panic is clawing at you and you’re struggling to keep your breathing even – especially if there is someone “not lost” with you. Every imaginable worst case scenario is now running through your head and hope is beginning to seem like a quaint relic of another time and place.

I began working on this post in January of 2007. For over a year it sat as a draft waiting for the day that I felt able to come back to it. As I prepare to hit publish, I feel like it could sit and cure for another year. It still doesn’t quite say what I want…But I think that posting these thoughts will enable me to take one more step toward grasping their significance.

When we moved to the New Orleans area in April after “the storm” many people here looked at us like the hired guns; reinforcements if you will. We were supposed to be full of energy, excitement and optimism. In truth, by this point were already well into the most difficult season in either of our lives. We had spent 9 months wandering in the wilderness waiting for God’s calling. During this time I strung together 9 different jobs in an attempt to stay in North Texas. When the call finally came it was undeniable. And it was not at all what we were expecting…

During our first year in Mandeville, Rachel was repeatedly drawn to the story of Abraham. We often talk about Abraham’s calling…a call to GO which as Rachel began to discover, was the beginning of his difficulty rather than the result of and blessed release from struggles.

What is wilderness wandering like? Fear, insecurity, rummaging and foraging for food; trying to appreciate the potential benefits and dangers of this alien flora and fauna; learning to find shelter in new ways.

There are indeed few things more terrifying and difficult than wandering in the wilderness…except for wandering in the desert. When you find yourself in a barren and desolate wasteland you begin to think longingly of the underbrush, poison ivy, torrential rains and mosquitoes…well, maybe not mosquitoes.



You think about the lush and wonderful environment that allowed for foraging, shelter, and of course water. The desert makes the wilderness seem like civilization. I haven't done a thorough study, but from what I can tell Scripture seems to use wilderness and desert interchangeably to refer to a place of trial and testing. So I'm not offering this metaphor as a commentary on Scripture so much as noticing how the metaphors of Scripture provide the foundation for commentary on my life.

There is a scene from the movie Lucky Number Slevin that I think is wonderful. Slevin is “visiting” the Rabbi (why is he called "The Rabbi” you ask? …Because he’s a Rabbi - stay with me here) and mentions his bad luck. The Rabbi wisely points out that luck is a matter of perspective. Yesterday Slevin did not owe someone a large sum of money, yesterday his life wasn’t in danger. But did Slevin appreciate his good fortune? Nope. Not until his fortune took a turn for the worse. “People always want what they had” the Rabbi points out.

What do we do when we've come out of the wilderness and into the desert? When the wilderness suddenly looks good? What do we do when the desert sun is blinding us?

I’m not sure.

I do know that while being lost in the wilderness may have seemed bleak, the desert quickly teaches us to appreciate it…which begs the question, what will we find ourselves learning to appreciate tomorrow?

After wandering out of the wilderness and into the desert it doesn’t do much good to think about bounty of the forest nor the barren nature of the present locale. It doesn’t do much good to long for the security of slavery in Egypt, to long for Ur, or to remember the Alamo. All that matters is finding shelter; your choices in the desert don‘t go much beyond finding an oasis, get yourself discovered by some Bedouins or die. Philosophy and reminiscing are best suited for Trinity Hall over a pint of Murphy’s Red…

But look at what life has come from the desert – prophets and patriarchs learned to depend on God; often this deadly and harsh landscape was refuge and sanctuary for faithful people whose lives were in danger.

Life coming from the desert seems paradoxical at best. But it fits. There is only one who has the power to bring about life from death, bounty from barrenness, blessing from curse. One does not emerge from the desert unchanged. The fire-tested life is a full life, it just doesn’t feel very full until AFTER the period of testing.

The initial exposure reveals a harsh, barren desolation. But over time one realizes there is a tenderness beneath that harsh exterior and what was first seen as barren and desolate is eventually cherished as beautiful. It is beautiful because of what it reveals. It is valuable because of what it forges. The bitter shrubs of the desert become sweet and fragrant flowers. But not quickly, not for a while.



Perhaps there is room for hope in the desert. Maybe there’s reason for rejoicing when the wilderness looks good…

to be continued