The Value of Religion

Jay over at 4and20blackbirds made an interesting comment the other day in dismissing both religion in general and Christianity in particular. Quoting from John Derbyshire he describes the effect of religion on a community:

I have now come to think that it really makes no difference, net-net. You can point to people who were improved by faith, but you can also see people made worse by it. Anyone want to argue that, say, Mohammed Atta was made a better person by his faith? All right, when Americans say “religion” they mean Christianity 99 percent of the time. So: Can Christianity make you a worse person? I’m sure it can. If you’re a person with, for example, a self-righteous conviction of your own moral superiority, well, getting religion is just going to inflame that conviction. Again, I know cases, and I’m sure you do too. The exhortations to humility that you find in all religions seem to be the most difficult teaching for people to take on board. Mostly, I think it makes no difference.

I suspect many would share his sentiment - all religions seem pretty much the same, as do all people whether they have religion or not (eg. the divorce rate is pretty much the same for Christians as non-Christians). So religion is a wash, right?

Not so fast.

On the one hand, I agree with part of his assessment - religion can be used to build yourself up (look how great I am because I keep all the commandments, tithe on my mint and dill; look how lousy you are because you don't). We see this all the time, and it's one of the reasons we can't stand self-righteous, self-centered people (and lest we only heap blame on the evangelical fundamentalists here, I'd like to suggest that agnostics / atheists can be just as guilty in this regard).

But it doesn't follow that religion is to blame for this behavior. It's the people who do it who are liable, for co-opting a faith and trying to use it to their own advantage. Jesus was fully aware that some would try to do this, and he reserved some of his harshest criticism for them - he called them hypocrites, twice the sons of hell as those who were just blatantly bad. But he didn't write off faith, simply because some people would twist it.

And that brings me to a second thing about this comment, which I disagree with altogether - it's an assumption, really, one that says "The basic purpose of religion (and the criteria by which it should be evaluated) is to make people better." In other words, the primary function of religion is simply to provide an ethic, to tell people what to do, how to live. It's very man-centric. And I would challenge that strongly.

Other religions may indeed be primarily interested in ethics; the Jesus of Christianity most decidely is not. Jesus does not come offering people a way of life - he comes claiming to be the life. Jesus sees himself in a markedly different way than any other religious leader - he claims to be the thing people need, he claims to be the only way, he claims that it is necessary for him to die in order that others might live.

Any time someone claims that all religions are the same, what it really tells you is that they aren't particularly interested in any religion, or else they are interested in every religion to whatever extent they can use it to justify a lifestyle they have already chosen. That's not fair to Allah, to Budda, or to Jesus.

At the end of the day, Christianity is not merely about us (about what we're supposed to do in order to get to heaven) - no, Christianity is decidely about him, Christ the God-Man, the one who has risen from the dead and is worthy of all honor and worship. At the end of the day, Christianity - the real, biblical, New Testament kind of Christianity - is very focused on calling people everywhere to repent, to believe, and to worship. Ethics, while important, is always secondary to that.

If religion is really about worship - worshipping the one true God, in Spirit and truth, as HE sees fit - then faith becomes vitally important (and the difference between religions becomes crucial). At the end of the day, Derbyshire's quote doesn't say as much about religion (whether its true or false), as it does about the unbeliever - he is really interested only in himself. I wonder if he'd be willing to admit it?

A Picture of Grace?

So in case you haven't heard, a local church here in Missoula made headlines last week when they responded to three kids (ages 18 and 19) caught vandalizing the church property by "giving them Xboxes instead of exile."

Reaction has been rather mixed overall - some positive, but much negative (or at least 'puzzled'). If my kids' experience is any indication, the buzz on the playgrounds at school is largely to the effect of "Hey! Now I know how to get ahold of one of those cool new Xboxes that I've been wanting for Christmas!"

Hmm... So what do we make of this?

Looking at things as charitably as possible, I think we can at least appreciate SHEC's desire to respond differently rather than in typical knee-jerk, throw-the-book-at-'em fashion. Of course, those who are a bit cynical might call this a publicity stunt, but I doubt it - I'm willing to assume that their intentions were noble, that they really desired to respond in a biblical, gracious manner, in a way that actually helps the kids that did this.

Of course, that raises some key questions.

Is this really a helpful response? (I'm not convinced that what these kids need is an Xbox).

And is it really loving? (It's easy to pass the plate and toss in a couple hundred bucks to make us all feel like we've done something significant - like putting off our Christmas shopping till the last minute, and then simply dropping a big wad of money on a gift to cover up for the fact that we really didn't put a lot of thought, or love, into the whole endeavor).

I have a feeling that the really loving response would be a whole lot cheaper (in terms of dollars), but a whole lot more costly (in terms of time and personal sacrifice) - what would it look like to actually invest in these kids lives, on a personal, individual basis? What would it look like to show up at their trial? To follow up in person? To talk to their parents? To take time and get to know them as people? To understand why they would do something like this? To learn what makes them tick? Of course a response like this probably isn't going to generate headlines...

[As an aside, the author of 4&20 Blackbirds astutely observes a difference in how SHEC responded to these guys, vs. prostitute J.C. Nouveaux. What would it look like to respond the same way to both, by reaching out personally to both? I for one would love to sit down and just talk with someone like J.C, or these guys, in both cases to get to know them as they are, where they are...]

All of this leads to perhaps the biggest question of all - is SHEC's response really a picture of 'grace' at all? I'm not sure that it is.

For starters, 'grace' is not simply "a second chance" (because after all, if we're all really damn messes deep down, chances are we're going to blow our second - and third, and fourth - chances as well).

'Grace' is also not simply "unconditional love" or "blithe acceptance"(because after all, God's love is not simply unconditional either) - no, real grace cares so much about people that it is not content to simply leave them where they are, wallowing in the consequences of their bad decisions. Real grace cares. Real grace rescues. (And let's be honest - how many of us really give a rats ass about these kids, anyway? How many of us actually care whether or not they make bad decisions and screw up their lives? I suspect it's very few of us do...)

No, grace actually brings something to the table - something necessary, valuable, essential, lifegiving. I'm not sure an Xbox qualifies in that regard (maybe I'm just old fashioned, but I have a feeling most 18 year olds would benefit more from hard work and a father worth respecting than from more time in front of a TV screen).

Real grace is also costly. Not in terms of dollars and cents, but personally. Real grace is a wife refusing to leave her lusting husband (even though he probably deserves it), not because he's great, and not because she's great either, but simply because of who he is - her husband, the man she made a commitment to when they were married.

You see, whatever grace is, it's a long term proposition - it doesn't just offer the possibility of favor, on the condition of change; instead it starts with favor, and that actually brings about the change. Real grace actually accomplishes something, like a chinook in February. It melts hearts. It breaks logjams. It brings change. And it's often very, very messy.

It's almost certainly not very worthy of much public attention, at least not until years later when hindsight reveals just how much change grace has wrought.

So where does all this leave us? I'm not sure that SHEC did the wrong thing by responding the way they did, but I'm not at all convinced they did the right thing either. Not simply because I don't think that what they did is going to accomplish anything, but rather because I don't think it's a picture of what grace really is.

So what would I do instead? I'm not sure. But I'm pretty sure it wouldn't involve an Xbox.

The Notebook on Senility and Evangelism

Philly friend Ryan Khas posted some great thoughts on a movie called The Notebook - beautiful thoughts about senility and evangelism:

In the movie The Notebook, the male character reads to his senile wife every day and tries to remind her of their love story - the way he pursued her like a fool, her unfaithfulness through adversity, his patient restoration of her dream house in her absence, and their eventual life together. He reads to her every day, hoping for a sweet reunion in those rare, lucid moments when the cloud of sickness is lifted and she remembers her identity and their history. Those moments come and fade quickly, giving way to a violent and unnatural separation. Each day he returns, reading to her and looking for that spark in her eye that says she remembers.

So what does this have to do with evangelism? Go read the whole thing to find out. It's short, but well worth it.

Jesus and Smoking Pot

"So what do you think about smoking pot?" That's the question the young woman asked me, Joe Pastor, as she leaned across the table in the deli where we were eating lunch.

That's a good question. After all, Scripture doesn't exactly say a whole lot about the demon weed (other than in Gen 15, where it's God doing both the smoking and the pot - bet you didn't know that was in there, did you?).

So how would you answer a question like this? What's the gospel response?

Too many times we would-be followers of Christ say little more than "Bad dog! No biscuit!" as we wag our finger disapprovingly in the asker's direction. But is there a better answer? Can we say something more? What would Jesus say if he was the one answering? Be careful not to assume this question is a gimmee.

With cases like this, I think its often helpful to consider what's NOT being asked - or rather, to ponder the question behind the question, the real premise that often lies unexpressed. You see, someone who asks this might actually be asking a several different things, for several different reasons.

For instance, he might be saying "Does God even care what I do with my body? Does this 'faith' thing have any connection with the way I live my 'real life'? Or are the two so disconnected that I can do whatever I want in the here and now as long as I 'believe in God' as being important for the hereafter?"

In a case like this, I'd want to say, "Hey, God DOES care what we do with our bodies." Jesus doesn't just come demanding intellectual allegiance - he actually has the gall to claim authority over every inch of creation, over every breath we take. Jesus demands we acknowledge him as Lord ("the big Kahuna") in everything we do. This is why he can say that ANYTHING that does not flow from faith-in-him is nothing less than rebellion, sin, wrong.

My wanting to smoke pot is nothing less than high treason if I'm pursuing it for my own sake, my own indulgence, as my own little corner of the universe where I get to do what I want.

And my NOT smoking pot can be exactly the same thing - just as self-serving, just as treacherous, just as wicked in God's sight.

You see, someone might actually be asking a very different question altogether: "Does God love me more because I DON'T smoke pot?" Far too often, Christians use a "sin" like smoking pot (or whatever your favorite vice might be) as both a hammer and a ladder.

As a hammer, we point to people doing bad things and just nail them right between the eyes with it - we withhold our approval (or dish it out) based on whether or not the person conforms with our standard of morality. But Jesus doesn't deal with people this way - he tells them to trust in his goodness, not their own.

As a ladder, we use this same standard to prop ourselves up, to give ourselves pats on the back because we're good people, we're not like all those "sinners" ("Thank you God that I'm not like all those other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector here. I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get. Don't you love me because I'm so good and holy and obedient?"). Jesus reserves his harshest criticism for people who think like this - whitewashed tombs! hypocrites!

So in a case like this, our answer should be emphatic - absolutely NOT! If you think God loves you more because you are NOT smoking pot, or less because you ARE, then you don't really understand the gospel. You do not know what grace is yet.

You see, God does not wait for us to clean ourselves up. He doesn't give us an ethical standard of behavior, a set of rules, a list of dos-and-don'ts, and then lavish his affection on those who measure up, and frown disapprovingly on those who don't.

Nope, his criteria is much simpler than that: Are you family? Are you royalty? Are you a son or daughter of the King? Blood really is thicker than anything else. Especially when it belongs to Christ, poured out for us.

In light of this, there is a very real sense where it doesn't matter one whit whether or not you are smoking pot. The only thing that matters is this: Do you have Christ as your big brother? Are you clinging to him for all your rightness and approval from God? Because he alone is the entry point to God's favor, and he's not just the door - he's the whole house and estate as well.

Jesus Christ IS the promised land. He is the bread of life. He is living water. He is everything we are looking for in everything else (including pot). He's not just for the sweet-bye-and-bye. He delivers life in the here and now.

If I have Christ, God cannot love me more than he already does. Even if I smoke pot. But everything that pot is, all the good that it gives, that's just a pale reflection, a dim echo, pointing to something bigger and better and stronger. Something that is only found in Christ.

So does God care if we smoke pot? Absolutely. And absolutely not.

Both of those statements are equally true. And the answer that is most appropriate depends entirely on the question behind the question, on where the person asking it is really coming from. It depends on her context, her motive, her heart.

And to figure that out, we're going to have to have a relationship with her first - I'm going to have to learn to listen, to ask good questions, to discern what she's really asking. I'm going to have to learn to love her, not because she conforms to my particular moral standard, not because she props up my particular code of conduct, but simply because she is created in the image of God, and he loves her, even while she is still his enemy, even before she's got it all together, even while she is still a work in progress.

Just. Like. Me.

I need to constantly remember that God loves sinners (of whom I am STILL chief) so much that he was willing to die for me. And for her. And for him.

I wonder how many of us are really willing to love those who are different from us, even if they never change or become like us.

And I wonder how many of us are really willing to love ourselves, not because of anything we do, or haven't done, but simply because God himself loves us already, solely on account of what Christ has done for us, solely because we put all our hope and confidence in his work rather than our own, solely because we have put on Christ - he is ours, and we are his, and nothing (not even pot) can separate us from the love of God.

Maybe we all need to put THAT in our pipe and smoke it...

Wet Pavement outside Bernice's

It's been a rainy week here in Missoula, and I happened to snap this shot through the front window of Bernice's a couple of days ago, as all these little sparrows were hopping around on the pavement...