I liked your post on reading the Christian classics. Do you have a list that you recommend?
Here you go, in chronological order. This list is by no means exhaustive, but it’ll get you started.
Anonymous, The Didache (First century)
This is a preserved oral tradition focusing primarily on how home churches can incorporate gentile converts into the Christian fold. A fascinating look at early Christian life.
Augustine, The Confessions of Saint Augustine (c. 400)
Long considered the classic of all time, many modern readers will find this book difficult reading with scattered wisdom. The genre itself will seem unfamiliar and slightly wordy to many evangelicals.
John Climacus, The Ladder of Divine Ascent (c. 640)
The classic of eastern Christendom, written to monks, this book calls for a high commitment and chronicles some rather harsh ascetical practice.
Brother Ugolino, The Little Flowers of Saint Francis (Late thirteenth, early fourteenth century)
A narrative account of Francis of Assisi and his early followers. While the historicity of many accounts are suspect, the model of devotion and the earnest application of a simple spirituality emphasizing poverty, simplicity, and prayer is truly inspiring.
Johannes Tauler, Sermons (mid-fourteenth century)
Johannes Tauler, a Dominican monk, was a disciple of Meister Eckhart and a key voice of the influential German mystics. He spent the bulk of his life in the Order of Preachers, and his writings had a significant impact on Martin Luther, who called Tauler’s sermons “pure theology.”
Anonymous, The Cloud of Unknowing (late fourteenth century)
This book is very mystical, but with real gems sprinkled throughout. Evangelicals might find the full “program” of little interest or benefit, but those who take the time to read it will find considerable wisdom.
Julian of Norwich, Revelations of Divine Love (late fourteenth century)
One of the distinctives of this book is that it is the first Christian classic, indeed, the first English book, that can be identified with certainty as being written by a woman. As an evangelical, I must confess my own uneasiness with a book based on “divine revelations,” particularly when some of those seem to go against evangelical understandings of Scripture. Accordingly, I read this book like poetry—not to get doctrine, not to take it literally, but to benefit from, and be inspired by, the fine prose and passionate surrender to God that is a hallmark of feminine spirituality.
Thomas à Kempis, The Imitation of Christ (c. 1418)
This is probably one of the most popular spiritual classics of all time. À Kempis focused on rigorous spiritual training as a necessary part of Christian living. His work is a good counter to “soft” Christianity.
Lorenzo Scupoli, Spiritual Combat (sixteenth century)
A practical primer on the nature of sin, temptation, and spiritual warfare, this fine book was immediately recognized as a masterpiece of holy wisdom. Though written in the midst of the Counter-Reformation, it was soon adopted by the Orthodox Church as well, where it was published as Unseen Warfare.
Ignatius Loyola, The Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius Loyola (1548)
Full of very practical advice for monks, this book also offers many helpful insights for evangelicals.
John of the Cross, Ascent of Mount Carmel and Dark Night of the Soul (c. 1587)
John was recognized as a highly gifted spiritual director (he was Teresa of Avila’s director for three years). In these works he provides many helpful insights into the spiritual life, especially the stages that Christians go through. One of my favorite writers, John of the Cross wrote with an unparalleled passion for God.
John Calvin, The Institutes of the Christian Religion (sixteenth century)
Rewritten and updated throughout his life, Calvin produced one of the premier works on the Christian life. You don’t have to be Reformed in theology to enjoy the spiritual insights and commentary that fill this work of spiritual genius.
Teresa of Avila, The Interior Castle (1588)
This is a relatively short book on prayer, emphasizing spiritual visions leading to spiritual betrothal and marriage.
Francis de Sales, Introduction to a Devout Life (1609) and Spiritual Conferences (post 1610)
Introduction is a unique spiritual book in that Francis wrote for laypeople, not a religious community. His desire was to see ordinary tradesmen learn to grow spiritually, recognizing that they needed different advice than members of a religious community. This book is very practical with several helpful meditations. Spiritual Conferences is a series of talks given to the Visitation nuns, so you can compare how Francis speaks to religious people. The modern version is entitled The Art of Loving God.
John Owen, Sin and Temptation (1656-1667)
This is actually a compilation of three of John Owen’s treatises that have now been collected by Dr. James Houston. Owen’s teaching on sin and temptation is must reading for every Christian.
Ralph Venning, The Sinfulness of Sin (1669)
Classic Puritan work, written in a classically Puritan style, developing an applicable and insightful theology of what sin is, why it is so serious, and how it affects the Christian life. Originally published as Sin, the Plague of Plagues.
Blaise Pascal, Pensées (1670)
Pascal was a brilliant man in both science and devotion; the Pensées comprise an unfinished collection of his random thoughts. It’s haphazard reading, but there are some real gems for those who wade through the collection.
Jeanne Guyon, Experiencing the Depths of Jesus Christ (late seventeenth century) Originally published as A Short and Easy Method of Prayer, Experiencing the Depths explores a life of unceasing prayer, meditation, and contemplation, emphasizing abandonment and union with God.
Brother Lawrence, The Practice of the Presence of God (1692)
Brother Lawrence was a very humble man with an extraordinary sense of living in God’s presence. This little book includes several letters and conversations Brother Lawrence had with others who wanted to learn from his experience.
Francois Fénelon, Christian Perfection (1704-1717)
Along with John of the Cross, Fénelon is one of my favorites. He wrote as a wealthy mystic living in the upper strata of French society. The temptations faced by the elite several hundred years ago are remarkably similar to those faced by middle-class evangelicals today. This is one of the most helpful spiritual classics I’ve read; it’s one you may want to read over and over.
William Law, A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life (1728)
This is a rigorous treatise written by a devout Puritan. It is very helpful and challenging but could be dangerous for a person who isn’t rooted in grace because it might lead some into an unhealthy legalism.
Jonathan Edwards, A Treatise Concerning Religious Affections (1746)
Discusses those who are “truly pious” by examining and discussing various religious affections. Edwards is another of my favorites.
John Wesley, Wesley’s Journal (eighteenth century)
An astonishing, convicting, inspiring and compelling day-to-day account of a man on fire for God, earnestly seeking to build God’s Kingdom, and inviting us to share the journey.
Henry Drummond, The Greatest Thing in the World (late nineteenth century)
Drummond was one of D.L. Moody’s favorite “counselors” for those who responded to the famous evangelist’s appeals. He received considerable fame in his own right for his work applying the theory of evolution and natural laws to the spiritual life. This work consists of a series of addresses given by Drummond between 1876 and 1881, originally published under the title The Ideal Life.
Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest (twentieth century)
While it may be premature to call a book less than a hundred years old a classic, this treasured devotional is surely deserving of the title. Chambers was renowned for his work with the YMCA, and his daily thoughts breathe an astonishing depth of insight and devotion.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship (1937)
A ringing indictment of “cheap grace” and a call to experiential faith. Bonhoeffer warned that cheap grace was ruining more Christians than legalism, and sought to call the church toward the costly grace of discipleship.
Lewis, C.S., The Screwtape Letters (1944)
Among the most creative of all classics, this book brilliantly exposes the nature of temptation, spiritual warfare, human nature, and a life of faith.
A.W. Tozer, The Pursuit of God (1948)
A classic call to an experiential, intentional, and transformational faith. I’m holding the line at books written prior to 1950 to deserve the title “classic,” but I believe it likely that Tozer will still be read 100 years from now.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Monday, February 8, 2010
Isn't it Dangerous to Read From, and Quote, Christian Classics from Other Traditions?
After I preached at one church, an earnest young man came up to me and said, “What you shared is so important for the church to hear; it was truly inspired. But why did you have to quote enemies of the Gospel to make your point?”
I had quoted Francis of Assisi and an Eastern Orthodox monk.
“Francis couldn’t very well have been a Calvinist with a Calvinist’s system of thought, could he?” I asked, knowing I was in a Presbyterian church, “Seeing as how Calvin wasn’t even born until Francis had been dead for almost three hundred years. And while evangelicals certainly have disagreements with certain points of Eastern Orthodox theology, do you really want to write off the wisdom this wing of the church has gained over the past two millennia? The Orthodox claim to historicity is as strong, if not stronger, than any other branch of the church!”
I have gained so very much from reading widely and seeing how different generations and different Christian perspectives have broadened my understanding of the journey of faith, which is why I believe it is silly for us to avoid the devotional writings of ancient Roman Catholics (many of whom wrote before the Protestant church was even born) or Eastern Orthodox Christians (because they’re writing from an eastern perspective). My persistent use of quoting them is deliberate and intentional. God has used them in my life, and continues to use them, in ways it would be difficult to overstate.
If you give the classics a fair reading, you’ll be surprised by how much they agree on. For example, Lorenzo Scupoli, who worked in the Counter-Reformation in the 17th century, often sounds suspiciously like John Calvin, the innovator of the Reformed system of thought, in a surprisingly large number of areas when both talk about relating to God, growing in character, and cultivating the life of Christ in our souls.
Keep in mind, I don’t read the classics for training in systematic theology or doctrine; I read them for the passion and understanding they bring to the spiritual life. In the classics I have witnessed a beautiful tapestry of common truth that gives stunning witness to the accepted faith of the wider Christian Church—elements of the Christian life on which the most zealous and thoughtful adherents speak in virtual unanimity.
I don’t agree theologically with everything that John of the Cross or John Climacus writes. I certainly do not accept Julian of Norwich’s Revelations as true revelations, treating her work more as poetry than divine showings. But in total, their devotion fans into flame the burning embers of my faith.
Ralph Venning, a renowned Puritan preacher from the seventeenth century, actually urged his church members to read John Goodwin’s A Being Filled, even though Goodwin was a thoroughgoing Arminian (and thus at odds with Venning’s theological Calvinism). Venning’s defense of this advice is similar to my own approach when recommending the classics: “Though I confess myself not to be of the same mind and opinion with the learned author in some other controverted points, yet I cannot but give my testimony concerning this piece, that I find an excellent spirit moving on the face, and acting in the heart of it, to promote the glory of God, the power of godliness, and consequently the good of men, especially of Christian men.”
R. Somerset Ward, the Church of England’s most influential spiritual director in the 20th century, puts it this way: “Herein lies the great justification of the practice of devotional reading. It is, in fact, the use of, and cooperation with, the great process of inspiration which is forever going on in the world: a process whereby the power and wisdom of God is continually flowing out into the world to aid the growth and development of man’s soul.”
Wisdom forgotten is wisdom lost, which is why I doubt I’ll ever write a book without quoting widely from the great works of the Christian faith.
I had quoted Francis of Assisi and an Eastern Orthodox monk.
“Francis couldn’t very well have been a Calvinist with a Calvinist’s system of thought, could he?” I asked, knowing I was in a Presbyterian church, “Seeing as how Calvin wasn’t even born until Francis had been dead for almost three hundred years. And while evangelicals certainly have disagreements with certain points of Eastern Orthodox theology, do you really want to write off the wisdom this wing of the church has gained over the past two millennia? The Orthodox claim to historicity is as strong, if not stronger, than any other branch of the church!”
I have gained so very much from reading widely and seeing how different generations and different Christian perspectives have broadened my understanding of the journey of faith, which is why I believe it is silly for us to avoid the devotional writings of ancient Roman Catholics (many of whom wrote before the Protestant church was even born) or Eastern Orthodox Christians (because they’re writing from an eastern perspective). My persistent use of quoting them is deliberate and intentional. God has used them in my life, and continues to use them, in ways it would be difficult to overstate.
If you give the classics a fair reading, you’ll be surprised by how much they agree on. For example, Lorenzo Scupoli, who worked in the Counter-Reformation in the 17th century, often sounds suspiciously like John Calvin, the innovator of the Reformed system of thought, in a surprisingly large number of areas when both talk about relating to God, growing in character, and cultivating the life of Christ in our souls.
Keep in mind, I don’t read the classics for training in systematic theology or doctrine; I read them for the passion and understanding they bring to the spiritual life. In the classics I have witnessed a beautiful tapestry of common truth that gives stunning witness to the accepted faith of the wider Christian Church—elements of the Christian life on which the most zealous and thoughtful adherents speak in virtual unanimity.
I don’t agree theologically with everything that John of the Cross or John Climacus writes. I certainly do not accept Julian of Norwich’s Revelations as true revelations, treating her work more as poetry than divine showings. But in total, their devotion fans into flame the burning embers of my faith.
Ralph Venning, a renowned Puritan preacher from the seventeenth century, actually urged his church members to read John Goodwin’s A Being Filled, even though Goodwin was a thoroughgoing Arminian (and thus at odds with Venning’s theological Calvinism). Venning’s defense of this advice is similar to my own approach when recommending the classics: “Though I confess myself not to be of the same mind and opinion with the learned author in some other controverted points, yet I cannot but give my testimony concerning this piece, that I find an excellent spirit moving on the face, and acting in the heart of it, to promote the glory of God, the power of godliness, and consequently the good of men, especially of Christian men.”
R. Somerset Ward, the Church of England’s most influential spiritual director in the 20th century, puts it this way: “Herein lies the great justification of the practice of devotional reading. It is, in fact, the use of, and cooperation with, the great process of inspiration which is forever going on in the world: a process whereby the power and wisdom of God is continually flowing out into the world to aid the growth and development of man’s soul.”
Wisdom forgotten is wisdom lost, which is why I doubt I’ll ever write a book without quoting widely from the great works of the Christian faith.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Should Christians be Called Sinners?
QUESTION:
Dear Gary,
In Devotions for a Sacred Marriage, which has vastly blessed me and my wife, I noticed you address all believers as sinners. But Gary! Since we all write, are we all writers?
Our self-image (Identity) should not be defined by our sinful character, appearance, performance and social status but by our position in Christ. The Bible does not identify believers as sinners; it identifies believers as saints with capacity to sin. A saint is literally a holy person, but the designation does not describe our growth in character.
Although the New Testament gives us plenty of evidence that the believer sins, it never clearly identifies the believer as a sinner. As believers, we are not trying to become saints; we are saints who are becoming like Christ. In no way does this deny our continuous struggle with sin as you know, but it does give us hope for the future.
Though many Christians are dominated by the flesh and deceived by their ignorance. But telling Christians they are sinners because they do not act like saints seems counterproductive at best, usually to the loss of their self esteem and this is inconsistent with the Bible at worst. Apostle Paul uses words like carnal and babes in Christ.
Referring to believers as sinners fits the description of those who have not come to repentance nor accepted faith in God, since the rest of the scripture clearly identifies believers as saints who still have the capacity to sin.
“Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners” (1Tim 1:15). The reference to “the ungodly and sinners” a few verses earlier (v.9), along with other New Testament uses of the term “sinners” shows that the sinners whom Christ came to save were outside of salvation rather than believers who can still choose to sin.
And if after receiving Christ as our Lord and saviour; we still see ourselves as sinners; then something is definitely wrong with our perception that need healing for making Christ’s work and gift of no effect.
This is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance. Please reflect on what I am saying, for the Lord will give you insight into all this.
ANSWER:
Dear E.,
Thank you for such a thoughtful question. Though you challenge an important point, you do so in a spirit of mutual edification, for which I am grateful.
When you ask, "Since we all write, are we all writers?" my immediate response, to be honest, was "yes!" We might not all be professional writers, but we are all writers. And since every Christian sins, I think it is appropriate to still call us sinners. To carry your own analogy out, we might not all be "professional" sinners--people who sin without repentance, no visible transformation, and no conviction--but we are forgiven people who still fight the sin nature and oftentimes succumb.
It was interesting to me that you even quoted 1 Timothy 1:15, but left out Paul's own admission, "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners--of whom I am the worse." The way the Greek is to be understood, Paul does not say, "I was," but clearly, "I am." Paul is literally saying, "I am the worst of sinners."
Embracing this (I believe, biblical) truth has helped me to 1) live in God's grace, which I need on a daily basis; 2) guard against the effects of sin in my relationships, thoughts, and actions.
I believe this is further supported by 1 John 1:8, in which John says, "If we claim to be without sin we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us." In context, John seems to me to be talking about an indwelling principle here, not just facts. It takes me back to your original analogy of a writer: if I write, I'm a writer. If I sin, then I'm a sinner. A saved sinner, a forgiven sinner, but still, a sinner. I am also, as you so ably represent, a saint. I see evidence of God's grace increasing in my life, thoughts, heart, and character, but I am still very much a work in progress, and the day I stop seeing myself as a sinner is the day I believe I give sin an upper hand.
So, biblically, we don't have to choose between "saint" and "sinner." We are both: forgiven saints, and sinners progressing toward a greater righteousness. We should, with gratitude, embrace our identity as declared saints, and with humility, wrestle with the reality of our sin nature.
That, at least, is the biblical foundation from which I was writing.
Dear Gary,
In Devotions for a Sacred Marriage, which has vastly blessed me and my wife, I noticed you address all believers as sinners. But Gary! Since we all write, are we all writers?
Our self-image (Identity) should not be defined by our sinful character, appearance, performance and social status but by our position in Christ. The Bible does not identify believers as sinners; it identifies believers as saints with capacity to sin. A saint is literally a holy person, but the designation does not describe our growth in character.
Although the New Testament gives us plenty of evidence that the believer sins, it never clearly identifies the believer as a sinner. As believers, we are not trying to become saints; we are saints who are becoming like Christ. In no way does this deny our continuous struggle with sin as you know, but it does give us hope for the future.
Though many Christians are dominated by the flesh and deceived by their ignorance. But telling Christians they are sinners because they do not act like saints seems counterproductive at best, usually to the loss of their self esteem and this is inconsistent with the Bible at worst. Apostle Paul uses words like carnal and babes in Christ.
Referring to believers as sinners fits the description of those who have not come to repentance nor accepted faith in God, since the rest of the scripture clearly identifies believers as saints who still have the capacity to sin.
“Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners” (1Tim 1:15). The reference to “the ungodly and sinners” a few verses earlier (v.9), along with other New Testament uses of the term “sinners” shows that the sinners whom Christ came to save were outside of salvation rather than believers who can still choose to sin.
And if after receiving Christ as our Lord and saviour; we still see ourselves as sinners; then something is definitely wrong with our perception that need healing for making Christ’s work and gift of no effect.
This is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance. Please reflect on what I am saying, for the Lord will give you insight into all this.
ANSWER:
Dear E.,
Thank you for such a thoughtful question. Though you challenge an important point, you do so in a spirit of mutual edification, for which I am grateful.
When you ask, "Since we all write, are we all writers?" my immediate response, to be honest, was "yes!" We might not all be professional writers, but we are all writers. And since every Christian sins, I think it is appropriate to still call us sinners. To carry your own analogy out, we might not all be "professional" sinners--people who sin without repentance, no visible transformation, and no conviction--but we are forgiven people who still fight the sin nature and oftentimes succumb.
It was interesting to me that you even quoted 1 Timothy 1:15, but left out Paul's own admission, "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners--of whom I am the worse." The way the Greek is to be understood, Paul does not say, "I was," but clearly, "I am." Paul is literally saying, "I am the worst of sinners."
Embracing this (I believe, biblical) truth has helped me to 1) live in God's grace, which I need on a daily basis; 2) guard against the effects of sin in my relationships, thoughts, and actions.
I believe this is further supported by 1 John 1:8, in which John says, "If we claim to be without sin we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us." In context, John seems to me to be talking about an indwelling principle here, not just facts. It takes me back to your original analogy of a writer: if I write, I'm a writer. If I sin, then I'm a sinner. A saved sinner, a forgiven sinner, but still, a sinner. I am also, as you so ably represent, a saint. I see evidence of God's grace increasing in my life, thoughts, heart, and character, but I am still very much a work in progress, and the day I stop seeing myself as a sinner is the day I believe I give sin an upper hand.
So, biblically, we don't have to choose between "saint" and "sinner." We are both: forgiven saints, and sinners progressing toward a greater righteousness. We should, with gratitude, embrace our identity as declared saints, and with humility, wrestle with the reality of our sin nature.
That, at least, is the biblical foundation from which I was writing.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Embrace Pleasure with Sophistication
Question: Gary, in your book, Pure Pleasure, you ask readers to “embrace pleasure with sophistication.” Can you explain what that means? (Sarah in MD)
Thanks for asking, Sarah. Pleasure is a gift from God. It is good. He designed us to receive pleasure in many ways, and in fact is preparing us for an eternity of pleasure. We must also realize, however, that a hierarchy of pleasure exists—with God at the top—that orders all of our other pleasures. If the hierarchy gets broken or becomes skewed, then lesser pleasures will begin to war against the primary one, delight in Christ.
As Christians, we have an awful tendency to “over correct.” We see our error (“Oh, so maybe I can legitimately accept and even cultivate pleasure; I see how I’ve endangered myself and dishonored God with a prohibitionist mindset”), and then rush to the other extreme to get away from that error, only to create a new one (“I want to ‘eat, drink, and be merry’ for the rest of my life!”). Writing a book like this presents exactly that grave danger. Today’s church, frankly, has not earned a reputation for intellectual sophistication. Instead of holding things in a healthy balance, we tend to bounce back and forth between dangerous extremes.
Some who read my book, Pure Pleasure, looking for an escape from responsibility, will cling to theological truths about God and pleasure primarily to justify their unbalanced lives of ongoing entertainment. Ruin and misery await them. Others will likely dismiss all this talk about pleasure as superficial, trite permission to live perpetually in a “Disneyland” faith. They risk suffering a breakdown or getting lured into hypocrisy and addiction. Both attitudes—hedonistic license or pharisaic prohibitionism —grieve God.
Thanks for asking, Sarah. Pleasure is a gift from God. It is good. He designed us to receive pleasure in many ways, and in fact is preparing us for an eternity of pleasure. We must also realize, however, that a hierarchy of pleasure exists—with God at the top—that orders all of our other pleasures. If the hierarchy gets broken or becomes skewed, then lesser pleasures will begin to war against the primary one, delight in Christ.
As Christians, we have an awful tendency to “over correct.” We see our error (“Oh, so maybe I can legitimately accept and even cultivate pleasure; I see how I’ve endangered myself and dishonored God with a prohibitionist mindset”), and then rush to the other extreme to get away from that error, only to create a new one (“I want to ‘eat, drink, and be merry’ for the rest of my life!”). Writing a book like this presents exactly that grave danger. Today’s church, frankly, has not earned a reputation for intellectual sophistication. Instead of holding things in a healthy balance, we tend to bounce back and forth between dangerous extremes.
Some who read my book, Pure Pleasure, looking for an escape from responsibility, will cling to theological truths about God and pleasure primarily to justify their unbalanced lives of ongoing entertainment. Ruin and misery await them. Others will likely dismiss all this talk about pleasure as superficial, trite permission to live perpetually in a “Disneyland” faith. They risk suffering a breakdown or getting lured into hypocrisy and addiction. Both attitudes—hedonistic license or pharisaic prohibitionism —grieve God.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Loving Creation more than the Creator?
Question: Gary, is it really okay to enjoy the things in the world? Or, is that loving creation more than the Creator? (Sam in TX)
Thanks for your question, Sam. Recent traditions of Christianity have had, in my view, a very slanted and negative view of the world, in a way that injures our souls, opposes abundant life, and dishonors the God who created a wonderful place for us to live. When John tells us not to love the world or anything in the world (1 John 2:15-17), and James tells us that friendship with the world is hatred toward God (4:4), they do not instruct us to despise the sound of a baby’s laugh, the taste of cold watermelon on a hot, sunny day, or the drama of achievement.
Instead, they warn us away from finding our happiness and fulfillment in social systems, polluted appetites, or actions that antagonize God. John makes this crystal clear when he defines the world’s sinful cravings as lust, boasting, and wayward desires. In other words, the Bible condemns polluted pleasures.
The problem is that we take the Bible’s condemnation of the “world” as condemnation of the “earth.” This serious mistake has unfortunate consequences to our souls and our view of life. Much of the “world” stands against God and rebels against him; God created the earth to reveal himself to us and to provide a place where we can enjoy him.
I am bold enough to believe that God created this world not to tempt us, but to reveal himself to us. Even this fallen world provides windows through which we may glimpse the one who created it.
We have to remember that God isn’t just our redeemer; he is also our creator. He made us and he made this world. So, when we participate in this world as he made it, we celebrate him every bit as much as we honor him when we do things that reflect his redeeming work. In fact, it insults him to deny the glory of his creativity. When we speak of God only as Savior, we use him as a rescuer—but he is much more than that. He invites us to truly enjoy him and all that he has made, no longer using God merely to enjoy the world (setting us free from addictions, reclaiming our finances, restoring health), but also using the world to enjoy God.
How can it honor God to ask him to solve our problems, fix our families, and remove the stain of sin—while ignoring what he delights to create, color, and fashion? This is as foolish as someone learning to play the guitar simply to develop stronger and more nimble fingers, or taking up playing the flute so that he can improve his ability to breathe. It misses the beauty and poetry of the entire exercise, reducing this world to a utilitarian throwaway bereft of the mystery and wonder of an infinitely creative and generous God.
Thanks for your question, Sam. Recent traditions of Christianity have had, in my view, a very slanted and negative view of the world, in a way that injures our souls, opposes abundant life, and dishonors the God who created a wonderful place for us to live. When John tells us not to love the world or anything in the world (1 John 2:15-17), and James tells us that friendship with the world is hatred toward God (4:4), they do not instruct us to despise the sound of a baby’s laugh, the taste of cold watermelon on a hot, sunny day, or the drama of achievement.
Instead, they warn us away from finding our happiness and fulfillment in social systems, polluted appetites, or actions that antagonize God. John makes this crystal clear when he defines the world’s sinful cravings as lust, boasting, and wayward desires. In other words, the Bible condemns polluted pleasures.
The problem is that we take the Bible’s condemnation of the “world” as condemnation of the “earth.” This serious mistake has unfortunate consequences to our souls and our view of life. Much of the “world” stands against God and rebels against him; God created the earth to reveal himself to us and to provide a place where we can enjoy him.
I am bold enough to believe that God created this world not to tempt us, but to reveal himself to us. Even this fallen world provides windows through which we may glimpse the one who created it.
We have to remember that God isn’t just our redeemer; he is also our creator. He made us and he made this world. So, when we participate in this world as he made it, we celebrate him every bit as much as we honor him when we do things that reflect his redeeming work. In fact, it insults him to deny the glory of his creativity. When we speak of God only as Savior, we use him as a rescuer—but he is much more than that. He invites us to truly enjoy him and all that he has made, no longer using God merely to enjoy the world (setting us free from addictions, reclaiming our finances, restoring health), but also using the world to enjoy God.
How can it honor God to ask him to solve our problems, fix our families, and remove the stain of sin—while ignoring what he delights to create, color, and fashion? This is as foolish as someone learning to play the guitar simply to develop stronger and more nimble fingers, or taking up playing the flute so that he can improve his ability to breathe. It misses the beauty and poetry of the entire exercise, reducing this world to a utilitarian throwaway bereft of the mystery and wonder of an infinitely creative and generous God.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
