Category: UMC

Reading the Bible with Christ as Our Lens

I’m regretting a near-omission in my last post. (It was quite long already.) I want to address that and then follow with a more detailed post about biblical interpretation.

In my previous post on Adam Hamilton’s method of reading the Bible, I focused on the interpretive rubric he proposes: love, mercy, and compassion. I relegated to a couple of brief footnotes any discussion of his appeal to Christ as interpretive lens. Because of the significant place that takes in Hamilton’s proposal, I should say more about this––both in praise and critique.

I write this in response to some specific statements by Hamilton, but my interest isn’t so much to criticize him.[note]Adam is a quite prominent public theologian, at least in the UMC. Public debate and discourse are important and helpful and don’t have to reflect any animosity between the persons involved. I have no animosity toward Adam. I disagree with some of his ideas. I worry that our society has come to such a point of confusion about the difference between love and affirmation that we believe any criticism of someone’s position is an attack on that person. If you see anything here that reads as ad hominem and not critical engagement, I’d be happy to know and correct it.[/note] I think he represents a common approach to Scripture, one that’s convincing on the surface and well-intentioned but on closer inspection inadequate. What I’m looking to do here is to propose a better way of reading Scripture for all of us.

Christological Reading

After his appeal to love, mercy, and compassion, Hamilton says, “Most importantly as Christians, we are to read all of Scripture through the lens of Jesus Christ, his life, teachings, ministry, death, and resurrection. He is the only unmitigated Word of God.”

Reading all of Scripture through the lens of Jesus Christ — YES!

We believe that all of Scripture is directed to Christ, the Word of God. He is, as Robert Jenson says it, “God’s agenda in Scripture.” [note]In Canon and Creed, p. 82[/note] I love the way The Jesus Storybook Bible represents this: “Every story whispers his name.”

I didn’t give this much time in the previous article and instead jumped to a discussion of canonical reading. I did that because I believe Hamilton’s version of christological reading is insufficient and one-sided. It appears to give permission to dismiss certain biblical texts if they don’t align with one’s perception of Christ.

Look at this penetrating description from Jenson for a better way:

“[We must teach] with the ancient church, that when God revealed himself to old Israel’s lawgivers, prophets, and sages, it was ‘in the person’ of that same Christ that he was present to them. The indeed singular revelation in Christ includes his presence in the Old Testament: the Word that ‘was in the beginning’ and is incarnate as Jesus (John 1:1-14) is the very Word that ‘came to’ the prophets (e.g., Ezek. 1:3), is offered back to God in the Psalms, and moves Israel’s history (Isa. 55:11). If Christ interpreted the old Scripture ‘with authority,’ as if he were the author, it was because, in the final ontological analysis, that is what he is.

Robert W. Jenson, Canon and Creed, p. 22, emphasis mine.

The kind of christological reading Jenson describes is not one that uses Jesus to judge which portions of Scripture are divine revelation. Instead, it expects to find him in all of Scripture. He is the Word come to the prophets of the Old Testament and proclaimed by the apostles of the New Testament.

So the only proper christological reading of the Bible is a canonical reading. To understand who Christ is, we must consider all of Scripture. And to understand any Scripture, we must consider it in light of Christ, its author. Do you see how this is different from using Jesus to determine which portions of the Bible are divine revelation?

A simple example:

Jesus says, “Do not judge, or you too will be judged.” [note]Matthew 7:1[/note] Later, Paul writes about a man in the church committing sexual immorality: “I have already passed judgment in the name of our Lord Jesus on the one who has been doing this.” [note]1 Corinthians 5:3[/note] If we don’t accept all of the Bible as divine revelation, we’re likely to dismiss Paul’s words as merely human. We might even scoff at Paul’s inadequate understanding of his Lord, who taught us not to judge.

If we read the Bible christologically and canonically, we’ll instead ask how the mind and will of God are expressed in both statements. That’s harder work than choosing one passage and dismissing another. And I don’t suggest that it will lead us all to the same conclusions. But it will lead us to better conclusions than assuming we can dismiss any portion of Scripture as less than divine revelation.

I write this to prevent any over-corrections or misunderstandings from my previous post, which nearly neglected christological reading. Christ and canon are both essential sources for biblical interpretation. But there are two more. I’ll discuss them in the next post: “Essential Sources for Biblical Interpretation: A new quadrilateral?”

The Church, simul justus et peccator

The United Methodist Church is in the middle of a theological crisis. Some will call this a crisis regarding human sexuality, others will say the crisis centers on justice or biblical authority or Christian orthodoxy.

Many have gone to John Wesley for help in resolving these crises, as we would expect. But I wonder if we could use some outside help in this instance. I’ll suggest here that Martin Luther may offer a different view of our impasse.

Simul justus et peccator

One of Luther’s most famous phrases is simul justus et peccator. With it, Luther claimed that a Christian is at once both righteous and a sinner. We are sinners, and we are saints. For the one who imagines himself only a saint, Luther’s claim instills humility. For the one who imagines himself only a sinner, Luther’s claim offers hope.

We hear a similar notion in Solzhenitsyn’s most famous quote:

“If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being.” [note]From The Gulag Archipelago, 1918-1956[/note]

Luther and Solzhenitsyn remind us that evil is not simply something out there. Look inside each of us and we will find it.

Luther emphasized this well in another of his famous phrases: “Sin boldly!”

What can he mean by “sin boldly”? Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase? By no means![note]This is from Romans 6:1-2[/note] To understand, we should look at the context for that exhortation –– a letter to his friend Philip Melanchthon:

“If you are a preacher of mercy, do not preach an imaginary but the true mercy. If the mercy is true, you must therefore bear the true, not an imaginary sin. God does not save those who are only imaginary sinners. Be a sinner, and let your sins be strong [i.e. sin boldly], but let your trust in Christ be stronger, and rejoice in Christ who is the victor over sin, death, and the world […] Do you think such an exalted Lamb paid merely a small price with a meager sacrifice for our sins? Pray hard for you are quite a sinner.”[note]emphasis mine[/note]

Luther’s “sin boldly” makes more sense to me when I see it in this context. This isn’t to encourage a friend into sin––”Go do what you please! God will forgive you.” This is to make Luther’s friend acknowledge his true state as a sinner. Don’t treat your sinfulness as imaginary, as something insignificant, as a few minor mistakes. You’ve heard those kinds of “confessions”––”I’m sure I’ve done some things wrong”; “Mistakes were made”; “I’m only human.” Instead, “sin boldly” tells us to recognize our true nature: “You are quite a sinner!”

The one who lets his sins be strong (i.e. sins boldly) is the one who can cry out with the Apostle Paul, “What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death?” [note]Romans 7:24[/note] He is also the one who can then join Paul in the exclamation, “Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!” [note]Romans 7:25[/note]

Luther calls every Christian to humility––to recognize our own sinfulness.
And Luther calls every Christian to wonder and gratitude––to recognize God’s undeserved gift of life and salvation through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Humility in conflict

How rarely we “sin boldly” in the church today! It seems we recognize others’ sinfulness quite easily but consider our sins much less significant––much closer to the imaginary variety. Michael Gerson named a similar phenomenon in American politics.

This is unsurprising in American politics. It should not be the norm for the Church.

Would a view of ourselves as simul justus et peccator give us the humility to engage each other with less hostility and more grace? Would Solzhenitsyn’s distinction about the line dividing good and evil slow us from tossing pejorative grenades across our supposed lines of division?

“If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds,” Solzhenitsyn writes. But we have found those evil people! We accuse the other side of racism, bigotry, white nationalism, homophobia, fundamentalism, heartlessness, and injustice. Or we claim based on one issue that an entire group must have no interest in holiness, biblical authority, or following Jesus. These false lines we draw see only justus in ourselves, only peccator in the other.

I wonder if Luther’s simul justus et peccator might give us the humility to handle these conflicts differently. Might it prompt more repentance and less accusation? Might it prompt us to deal gently with those going astray, since we know ourselves to be sinners, too?

The church as simul justus et peccator

When Luther spoke of us as simul justus et peccator, he spoke of us as individual Christians. In each of our bodies, we are at once sinner and saint. I want to suggest that simul justus et peccator may have a broader application––not only to our bodies, but to our Body.

Is it fitting to say that the Church, the very Body of Christ, is at once a sinful and a holy Body? Is it right that we should call this Body “quite a sinner”?

This does not seem fitting of the true Church––the one that is truly Christ’s Body. Because in Christ is no sin. And no one who lives in him keeps on sinning.[note]1 John 3:5-6[/note] I believe this. It’s the great doctrine of Wesleyan holiness, which has transformed my life. In the true Church, the true Body of Christ, there is no sin.

Wesley describes it this way:

“If the Church, as to the very essence of it, is a body of believers, no man that is not a Christian believer can be a member of it. If this whole body be animated by one spirit, and endued with one faith, and one hope of their calling; then he who has not that spirit, and faith, and hope, is no member of this body. It follows, that not only no common swearer, no Sabbath-breaker, no drunkard, no whoremonger, no thief, no liar, none that lives in any outward sin, but none that is under the power of anger or pride, no lover of the world, in a word, none that is dead to God, can be a member of his Church.” [note]In Sermon 74, “Of the Church” [/note]

With Wesley I affirm that Christ’s invisible Church is holy, pure, and set apart from sinners.[note]Hebrews 7:26[/note] We are these because Christ is these and we are his Body.

But are any of our visible churches without thieves or liars? Are any without people under the power of anger or pride? No! The church remains full of sinners. As a Body, we are full of sin. So we confess each week, “We have failed to be an obedient church.”

The church, in all of its visible forms, is simul justus et peccator.

And the line dividing good and evil does not cut between one faction and another, between one congregation and another. It cuts through the heart of every body that calls itself church.

Orthodoxy

We need to make an important distinction about orthodoxy before we carry the analogy from Luther too far. When Luther spoke of people as simul justus et peccator, he was not referring to all people. This was a designation for confessing Christians.[note]I’m indebted to Dr. Steve O’Malley for this point.[/note] They had been baptized into the Church under the Apostles’ Creed as the common confession of faith. They confessed God as Father, Christ as Lord, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting. The sinners Luther referred to were made righteous by living by this faith. Righteousness is not our own, it comes only by faith.

I want to suggest that the visible church is a Body both sinful and righteous. But it is only righteous by faith in Christ. A church that does not confess and mean the historic creeds of the Church as the historic Church confessed and meant them is no church at all. At least, it is not a Christian church. All faith outside of these affirmations is, by definition, heterodox––or heresy. If this sounds like an exclusionary statement, that’s because it is. All real things have bounds,[note]I originally had “All things but God have bounds,” but even an omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent God has definition. God is everywhere, but God is not everything, and everything is not God. (i.e. We are not pantheists.)[/note] and the bounds of Christian orthodoxy were constituted long ago in these universal confessions.

There are some who call themselves United Methodists who reject the Christian faith articulated by the Church’s early ecumenical councils. We have some among us[note]Please do not confuse my “some” to suggest that all, or even most, of any particular faction fit these descriptions[/note] who scoff at the notion of Christ’s real, historical, bodily resurrection, some who believe the Bible is a mere human work with no ultimate authority, and some who honestly have no interest in following the way of Jesus if it should lead them somewhere different than where they would like to go. What I’ve written above is not about those people. They are not those whom Luther referred to as simul justus et peccator. A Body that does not confess the Christ of faith is not the Body of Christ.

Debates about orthodoxy have become common in our current crisis. Should we extend it beyond our definition above? Some have called the “traditional” position on human sexuality the orthodox position. I reject that here. I think orthodoxy is best left to refer to conciliar orthodoxy. James K. A. Smith articulates this well: “The word [orthodox] is reserved to define and delineate those affirmations that are at the very heart of Christian faith—and God knows they are scandalous enough in a secular age. Perhaps we need to introduce another adjective––’traditional’––to describe these historic views and positions on matters of morality. ” [note]From this blog post, which is worth reading in full.[/note]

What do we do with a sinful Church?

And so we have a body––the very Body of Christ––at once righteous and sinful. We’re uncomfortable with the church as simul justus et peccator. And we should be. God has set in our hearts a different image of the Church––as a bride making herself ready for the wedding of the Lamb,[note]Revelation 19:7[/note] preparing as one to be beautifully dressed for her husband.[note]Revelation 21:2[/note]

Our disagreements about what we call sin are presenting themselves as a theological crisis in our church. Underneath them is another tension: What do we do with a sinful Church?

Who will rescue us from this body that is subject to death?

 

This post attempts to establish some foundations. In a post to follow, I’ll focus on another aspect of Luther’s theology––the theology of the cross––along with implications for the United Methodist Church and for those who might consider leaving.

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The Lectionary and the UMC: The subjects of our verbs

Another version – from “Ungodly Evangelicals”

“When I have taught homiletics (preaching),” writes Fleming Rutledge, “I have always put a lot of emphasis on subjects and verbs. It’s remarkable how infrequently many of today’s preachers make God the subject of active verbs. Usually it’s the human being who is given the verbs.” [note]If you have not read everything Fleming Rutledge has ever written, your life is incomplete.[/note]

In a longer paper, Rutledge discusses our love for the “triumph of the human spirit” story. She’s worth quoting at length:

“Our addiction to our own supposed powers leads us perpetually to sentimentalize and romanticize human possibility rather than acknowledge our desperate predicament. This tendency, in turn, subtly or not so subtly encourages the making of sentences which have human capacity as their subject and God as their object. Thus we have the current enthusiasm for ‘spiritual journeys,’ with the human religious search as the controlling metaphor.”

Because of Fleming Rutledge, I’ve begun to pay more attention to my grammar––especially in preaching and church leadership, but also in everyday life. How often is God the subject of my verbs?

When God is the subject

I’ve also begun to pay more attention to the subjects and verbs in the Bible. My general finding: When God is the subject of the verbs, things tend to go well. When people become the subjects of the verbs, things often go awry. Which can lead back to God being the subject of some rather unpleasant verbs…

A warning in the book of Deuteronomy illustrates well. As the people move into the promised land, they risk convincing themselves that they did it all. I’ve highlighted several key subjects so we can see the movement:

When you have eaten and are satisfied, praise the LORD your God for the good land he has given you. Be careful that you do not forget the LORD your God, failing to observe his commands, his laws and his decrees that I am giving you this day. Otherwise, when you eat and are satisfied, when you build fine houses and settle down, and when your herds and flocks grow large and your silver and gold increase and all you have is multiplied,  then your heart will become proud and you will forget the LORD your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery.  He led you through the vast and dreadful wilderness, that thirsty and waterless land, with its venomous snakes and scorpions. He brought you water out of hard rock. He gave you manna to eat in the wilderness, something your ancestors had never known, to humble and test you so that in the end it might go well with you.  You may say to yourself, “My power and the strength of my hands have produced this wealth for me.” But remember the LORD your God, for it is he who gives you the ability to produce wealth, and so confirms his covenant, which he swore to your ancestors, as it is today.[note]Deut 8:10-18[/note]

The Bible story is not a “triumph of the human spirit” story. It’s a triumph of God story. God is the main character. The main plotline is about God creating, God rescuing, God redeeming, God restoring, God with us.

People are the supporting cast. Our story, apart from God, highlights the weakness of the human spirit and the evil inclinations of the human heart. Only because of God’s active role in this narrative can we celebrate triumphant and good people.

“Why have you not built me a house of cedar?”

This week the lectionary brings us to 2 Samuel 7 where David considers building a temple for Yahweh.

Is it an act of genuine piety? David sees the contradiction between his royal palace and the place of the ark of God––literally “in the midst of curtains.” He wants to give Yahweh a more fitting dwelling place.

Or is it about self-serving legitimation? A grand temple validates the king. It’s a mark of his success. (Does this have similarities to church building programs?) In some ways, it makes the god a patron of the king.

Walter Brueggemann calls temple building “undoubtedly a mixed act of genuine piety and self-serving legitimation.” [note]In his outstanding Interpretation commentary.[/note] Isn’t this how it is with so many of our decisions, especially as Christians and church leaders? Advancement and self-preservation––of both individuals and institutions––can have motives that are at once noble and self-serving. To the extent that it may be difficult to discern which is which.

Whether David’s motives are pure or impure (or more likely, an indivisible mix of the two), Yahweh changes the subjects of the verbs. Look at these subjects:

“This is what Yahweh says: ‘Are you the one to build me a house to dwell in?’ “

Subject: David.
Object: House (temple).
Recipient: Yahweh

And then the reversal:

“I have not dwelt in a house from the day I brought the Israelites up out of Egypt to this day. I have been moving from place to place with a tent as my dwelling. Wherever I have moved with all the Israelites, did I ever say to any of their rulers whom I commanded to shepherd my people Israel, ‘Why have you not built me a house of cedar?‘ “

From here through verse 16, Yahweh is the subject of 23 active verbs, as I count them.

He’s the subject of past-tense verbs: “I took you from the pasture.”

He’s the subject of future-tense verbs: “I will make your name great.”

He’s the subject of the great promise that extends far beyond David’s small vision of a temple: “Yahweh declares to you that Yahweh himself will establish a house for you.”

Subject: Yahweh.
Object: House (dynasty).
Recipient: David.

The Bible story is also not a story of people doing good things for God. It’s the story of God continually sustaining his sometimes anxious, sometimes self-serving, sometimes faithful people by giving them far more than they have envisioned. Ultimately, God has given us his Son, the offspring of David, whose kingdom never ends.

Regarding human plans that didn’t begin with God, he asks, “When did I ask you to do this for me?”

God does tell his people to do things for him. Principally, he tells us to trust and obey. Outside of trust and obedience, Yahweh is the subject of most of the good verbs in the Bible. The difference between Noah building an ark and the people building a tower at Babel––one is an act of human trust and obedience, the other an act of human will.

The lectionary and the UMC

A favorite phrase of United Methodist leaders today is “non-anxious presence.” In a time of anxiety, our Bishops are urging us to “project a non-anxious presence.”

This amidst much (legitimate) concern about the state of the United Methodist Church. It’s difficult to speak of “death tsunamis” and potential schism with a non-anxious presence.

I don’t expect we’ll become non-anxious through reading the right leadership book or mustering up enough confidence. I don’t expect the newly released report of the Commission on a Way Forward to reduce anxieties. From the beginning, many have viewed the task of the Commission as impossible––so far as the task is to maintain the unity of the UMC.

I expect the only legitimate way to cultivate (not just project) a non-anxious presence is to make God the subject of more of our verbs. I want to resolve as a leader in the church to spend less time prognosticating and more time asking what faithfulness to God means in my life and the life of my congregation today. I want to resolve as a leader in the church to spend less time wringing my hands about the future and more time in prayer, in gratitude for what God has done, and in sure and certain hope that God will sustain his church.

Does this mean that God will sustain the United Methodist Church in unity? We don’t have that promise. Nor can we fixate on making it happen ourselves. In our efforts to save our denomination, perhaps we have romanticized human possibility rather than acknowledging our desperate predicament. Perhaps we have made ourselves the subjects of too many of our verbs.**

Perhaps, like David, our determination to do something for God (with all the mixed motives that surely entails) has veiled our eyes to the larger designs of God. Perhaps we’ve sought to preserve and build an institution at the expense of celebrating the greater promise of God––his Son, Immanuel, God with us, as the one whose kingdom will last forever. If that kingdom is our end, we have no need for anxiety.

Fleming Rutledge writes, “The biblical story has God as its unfailing subject. God is not for us to find; God has found us, and keeps on finding us, and will chase us down even in Sheol (Psalm 139:8).” I don’t know the future of the United Methodist Church as a denomination. But I believe wherever it is we end up––each of our churches and members and clergy––God will be there already, with us, seeking us out, chasing us down… even in Sheol.

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** To be clear: I don’t mean to negate good and faithful work done by many of our leaders, and particularly the Commission on a Way Forward. I trust many of them are asking questions that acknowledge our desperate predicament and God’s action as our only true hope. And I’m thankful for them. I write this more as admonition for myself and others like me than for those who already have God as the subject of their verbs.