Community in the Image of God (p. 3)

At the end of Genesis 3, humanity finds itself caught between image and curse. The image defines the task of humanity; the curse hinders and thwarts that task. The image defines the identity of humanity; the curse twists and subverts that identity. But the image remains - this, at least, is clear - God himself says as much in Genesis 9. But a more significant statement can be found earlier, in Genesis 5:3:

When Adam had lived 130 years, he had a son in his own likeness, in his own image; and he named him Seth.

Can you see the ambiguity that is nestled within the syllables of this simple phrase? Adam's son is in Adam's image - in the image of a man who is caught between two opposing realities. As Adam carries the imago dei, so Seth; as Adam carries the curse, likewise his son. The situation grows ever more complicated.

What is God's response? Has the divine task been thwarted for good? Fast forward, if you will, a few chapters ahead to what is arguably the most significant event in the Old Testament. Abram is called by God to form a new people, a people whose vocation is to image God once again to the world. Note again the dual creative themes of separating and filling - Abram is separated, in a sense, from his prior identity; his new identity is then symbolically "filled" through the promise of many descendants. God has not abandoned his creative task; he has now begun the process of redeeming it and has invited Abram to participate in it, to take up again the vocation inherent to the imago dei.

We now must move quickly, given the sheer volume of material with which we are confronted. The next significant marker in the history of the people of Israel is the Exodus. The descendants of Abraham are being oppressed by one who uses the rhetoric of divinity to legitimate his injustice. God sets the record straight, humiliating Pharaoh and redeeming the people of Abraham. God grants them the Law, a charter of sorts for a nation whose vocation is to image God appropriately. The first commandment ends discussion of who the people are to worship: there are no other gods before YHWH. The second is quite interesting - the people are prohibited from creating images of this God who they worship. The people who are to image God are not to create other images that would call their vocation into question. Much of the rest of the Law concerns how the people live as the people of God - how do they relate to one another and to God? Over and over, abuses of power are condemned; justice is established, and the poor and powerless are defended. This is an action of a gracious God, inviting and empowering others to join in the divine task. But things are also more complicated - now that task is in jeopardy. This Law has hard edges for those who would place the vocation of Israel in doubt. Israel must still contend with the curse.

It is, I think, telling that in the biblical narrative the history of Israel is dominated by two recurring sins: idolatry and injustice. The people repeatedly turn away from God to follow other gods; when they do, they also abandon the justice that characterizes authority in God's image and instead turn to oppression. Notice the connection - when the people turn to idols, the ones who are the true images are instead held in contempt. Idolatry and injustice are inextricably linked. Both represent the abandonment of the imago dei - one as a false image, and the other as an abrogation of the responsibilities due a steward of the true God.

This is what the LORD says:
"For three sins of Judah, even for four, I will not turn back.
Because they have rejected the law of the LORD and have not kept his decrees,
because they have been led astray by false gods, the gods their ancestors followed,
I will send fire upon Judah that will consume the fortresses of Jerusalem."

This is what the LORD says:
"For three sins of Israel, even for four, I will not turn back.
They sell the righteous for silver, and the needy for a pair of sandals.
They trample on the heads of the poor as upon the dust of the ground
and deny justice to the oppressed."

Amos 2:4-7

Technorati Tags: ecclesiology, image of God, imago dei, theology

Community in the Image of God (p. 2)

N.T. Wright suggests in his worldview model described in NTPG that part of the function of stories is to describe what is wrong. In other words, we instinctively know that things are not as they should be, and our foundational stories, the ones that shape the way we understand our way-of-being in the world, tell us what the problem is with the way things are. Christian stories are no different; our word for what-is-wrong in our Story is sin, and Genesis is instrumental in introducing the problem into our story. But it's interesting, I think, that we so rarely go back to that story of beginnings to help us understand the nature of what-is-wrong. Too often Genesis is only employed to speak of who is wrong; that, perhaps, is one of the great tragedies of modern theology.

What-is-wrong in Genesis 3 is precisely related to the concept of image as authority that we discussed previously. The man and the woman have been created in the image of God; God has delegated authority to them and empowered them to complete the divine task of creation. There is a word that can be used to describe the function of image: to image God is to serve as a steward of his creation. Two things naturally follow: first, a delegated authority means that the authority remains his, and second, we will ultimately have to give account for how we have wielded it.

Genesis 3 is ultimately the tale of delegated authority that is misused. The man and the woman refuse to remain within the boundaries which have been granted them. Understand, then, what happens: a steward who rebels undercuts his or her own vocation. How can one wield delegated authority while refusing to submit to the source of that very authority? The consequence: the image of God, the role of steward, is marred. The divine task that has been entrusted to the man and woman is hindered. Humanity has been given two responsibilities to participate in God's creative work: they are to order and to fill the earth. Now, the task of ordering will be thwarted by creation's resistance to humanity's rule - the divine task has become frustrating and fruitless work. Likewise, the task of filling will be challenged by pain and misery in childbirth. Moreover, the nature of human authority has itself become corrupt; where once it was mutual and empowering, there is now hierarchy and domination. Make no mistake - the concept of "ruling over" has its roots in Genesis 3, not Genesis 1.

We Christians have a number of words for what-is-wrong. Sin I have already mentioned, but this is not the word that is used in Genesis 3. Here, the word is curse. We are created in God's image, intended to serve as his stewards, continuing the divine task of ordering and filling creation and doing so in a way that empowers others to do the same. Now, though the image remains, it is warped and twisted, frustrated and thwarted. We are caught between image and curse. Fortunately, this is merely the beginning and not the end; the rest of the Story is God's response to this dilemma.

Technorati Tags: ecclesiology, imago dei, image of God, theology

Community in the Image of God (p. 1)

Let's be honest about one thing up front: the idea of the imago dei is not an explicit theme that carries throughout the scriptural narrative. It does, to be sure, pop its head in the door on occasion to remind us that it's present, but the biblical authors by and large do not interact with it in the way that I'm going to suggest. However, I think that the picture that we have as a result of this little phrase from Genesis 1 does, indeed, influence the entire narrative. In other words, although the concept isn't explicit, the ideas that it represents are present implicitly throughout the Story. To that end, I want to begin by unpacking for a moment what I see as the Genesis description of the imago dei. It is my conviction that, properly understood, this particular assertion sets a trajectory for the grand narrative that carries us through to New Creation and gives us a wonderful picture of God's nature as well.

One of the most influential books that I've read this year has been J. Richard Middleton's The Liberating Image. This book is an absolutely phenomenal discussion of the historical context of the imago dei metaphor and its implications for theology. Every year it seems that I read at least one book that rearranges the way that I think about the scriptural narrative. This book is one of those texts - it simply rewrote the way I read the first eleven chapters of Genesis and made a lot of other texts "click" in a way that they simply hadn't prior. (An article of Middleton's that discusses in brief the basic premises of the book can be found here.) One of the things that I've seen in review after review of this book is the assertion that Middleton's description of the function of the language of image in light of other ancient sources represents a great deal of scholarly consensus, so I feel that I'm on pretty solid ground in basing my thoughts on Middleton's treatment.

In short, Middleton asserts that the language of the "image of God" is royal language. There are two possible ancient referents for it, both of which are completely fascinating. The first is the practice of ancient kings setting up a monument or statue in a vassal territory to serve as a reminder of the authority of the not-present king. The second is more explicit and refers to the ancient description of a ruler as being created in the image of a god. This description is found in both Egyptian and Mesopotamian sources, and its function is to establish the king as the representative of the gods on the earth, with the natural corollary that all allegiance and service due the gods is also due the king as the physical representative of the gods. (Middleton discusses two other possible connections as well, which I've omitted for the sake of brevity as he describes them as less likely candidates for historical connection.) In short - the language of image in the Ancient Near East was language that was explicitly connected to royalty, and consequently explicitly connected to authority and power. It is the language of ruler and subject, and the image was a legitimation of the ruler's right to rule.

Consider, then, the Genesis narrative as a polemic against such an ideology. Imagine, if you will, a people whose history is bookended by two empires - Egypt on one side, and Babylon on the other - both of which use the language of the "image of God" to describe their rulers and legitimate their use of power. Imagine such a people telling a tale of beginnings - and the parallels between the early chapters of Genesis and Babylonian tales of origins are many - that is intended to subvert such language. Imagine a tale that uses the language of rule and scandalously applies it to all people, asserts that each and every human is created in the imago dei, and undercuts the idea that some are created for rule, while others for service.

Now, consider one more thing about the language in Genesis 1. How does this creator God exercise his creative power? Does he create by divine fiat, by violence (as the competing creation accounts assert) or by executive order? Or is it something else? The language in the creation account is absolutely fascinating in this regard: God does not command so much as he empowers. When we read, "Let there be light!" we, I think, assume that this is God's declaration that light must come into being. But perhaps a better way to read this is to imagine God graciously inviting light to be. The language is such that creation is invited to participate in its own way. God invites the land to be fruitful - and, apparently, leaves the details up to the land. He empowers, grants his own authority to creation so that what emerges is something wonderful, something collaborative - something good. And then, to remind creation of his own generous authority, he creates humanity, creates man and woman and sets them in the middle of this wonderful new universe and invites them to participate in the divine task by ordering and filling the earth - a direct parallel to God's activities thus far, as he had also ordered (days one through three) and filled (days four through six).

What does it mean to be created in the image of God? In Genesis, it means to carry God's delegated authority and to participate in the divine task of creation by ordering and filling the earth. It means to wield that authority graciously, to empower others to likewise carry out the divine task. And it means to recognize that such authority is shared by all humanity, and not a select few. This, then, is the setting of the scriptural narrative and the description of its original intent. As a result, it describes perfectly both the task and nature of the church as the embodiment of the kingdom of God - but we have a few stops in our journey before we reach that point.

Technorati Tags: ecclesiology, Middleton, The Liberating Image, theology

More Thoughts on Ekklesia

A few folks have been interacting with my thoughts on ecclesiology. It's interesting, I think, and perhaps telling that the idea conjures up quite similar ideas in different folks (along with something of a critique of those implied ideas). Tim, for example, says about my definition in the comments:

love it except, why 'gathered'? seems to imply that the community is only 'a church' when they meet together.

This is an excellent thought - not what I was thinking in terms of the word "gathered", but it's a good catch on his part and a reminder that I need to nuance that language a bit. "Gathered" for me is more big-G Gathered in Christ, as in the called-out ones, as in those who are a part of the global and historical body of Christ as well as being a part of a local expression of that body. I like the word, as I think it carries the sense of God's initiative there (as I veer dangerously close to Calvinism for a second ;) but I don't want to be in a position to be corrected by the wise words of Inigo Montoya: "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means." So - I'm going to hold onto it for now but may swap it if it becomes problematic.

Ed picks up on some of these themes as well:

It's not so much that they lack a concept of the church, they have a rough idea at least. The problem is they cannot reconcile their own congregations with the true function of the church...Unless we can figure out how to live as the church with one another, then I can't see our gatherings having much value. That is why large congregations are back-peddling to build small groups. We have learned that just squishing everyone under the same roof is not enough in order "to be" the church...We have all kinds of "churchy" things to do that may pass as "being the church," but are really just jobs.

Excellent thoughts here as well. Ed nails the problem here. I'd describe it as a stunted ecclesiology that is compounded by a sell-out to consumer culture, personally. If the church's primary function is to grow larger (for example) then there is no sense of anything greater than attendance. In fact, the ekklesia collapses in on itself until it's nothing more than everyone who shows up on Sunday morning. And that sucks, frankly, and doesn't help anyone. If, however, the church's primary function is to participate in God's creative and redemptive work in the world, to carry on the divine task assigned to humanity at Creation but abandoned a mere two chapters later - well, then we might have something.

Grace picks up on a similar thread as well:

Ekklesia, literally the called out ones. All those who follow Christ fall into the category of the ekklesia. In the new testament, ekklesia is often translated church. Unfortunately, this definition is often narrowed to fit our traditional understanding of organizations rather than the broader picture of the entire ekklesia...I don't believe that the concept of ekklesia must be confined to our buildings and organizations. If the places called "church" block the reality of ekklesia with their traditions and structures, people are going to leave. What of the exiles, those who are scattered? Maybe those who are leaving institutions are looking to find a more real ekklesia.

And here, I think, is the sticking point. I think there's a tension in what Grace says, as well as in what Ed says. What of the fact that the churches in North America seem to so often be trying their hardest to be something other than the ekklesia? What of the fact that churches are so often places where people are not invited to become more fully human, more fully imaging God? What of the fact that a church can be as much a place of pain, hurt, abuse, and oppression as it is one of love, freedom, and community? Because I think Grace is onto something that I didn't explicitly engage - sometimes people check out of church because they don't see its significance and are caught up in a sense of "meeting my own needs" - which is often just another way of saying consumption in religious terms. Sometimes, though, they check out because they do see its significance and can't tolerate something that falls so far short of that any longer. Personal reflections on a specific situation from my last post aside, I think it's fair to suggest that both trends are in play in our context, and that both reflect on some level a need for a more robust ecclesiology - one that challenges the complacent and invites the exile into a new reality, where God's people participate in God's redemptive actions in the world and become something more than an insular, defensive, divisive group that can't see past our own walls.

Technorati Tags: ecclesiology, theology

Ecclesiology for a Missional Church

I read something interesting while back in, if I recall correctly, Stan Grenz's Renewing the Center. Grenz as I recall contends that evangelicals, by and large, have little to no ecclesiology. I thought this was fascinating. My initial reaction was to think through my own thoughts on the church - and, to be honest, I have to agree with him on at least a personal level. It wasn't until recently that I began to engage with the thoughts of the purpose and meaning of church. I suppose that can tend to happen when one feels dislocated and without a tradition to call home, as I've felt for some time in my own journey. And there are probably some parallels within the larger American context as well - as the face of evangelicalism increasingly becomes the nondenominational megachurch, the meaning and purpose of the community of God will increasingly fade into the background in favor of a focus on marketing and branding. (That's not intended to be a swipe at megachurches so much as it is a swipe at churches large and small that have sold out to the language of brand and target market.)

What I think is interesting is the juxtaposition of a low ecclesiology with the increasing numbers of folks who are abandoning church entirely. Well, perhaps juxtaposition isn't quite the right word - this isn't so much the coming together of two unrelated things so much as it is perhaps the one naturally leading to the next. If the gospel collapses to the personal, spiritual, and eternal, then what of the church? The last church where I was involved in a staff capacity has in the past few years experienced a sharp decline - to be honest, disintegration would not be too strong a word. What I've found interesting is the number of people who have left that church who have not reconnected anywhere, who have not yet joined another community of faith or who have but remain relationally and spiritually disconnected. And I have to wonder at this, on some level, even as I understand quite intimately how difficult that process of reconnecting is. Is it that there are no communities of faith in our area where people can find a home? Or is it that there isn't enough of a sense of the significance of the ekklesia to push them to reconnect?

So what of this thing that we call the church? How are we to think of it? I think that, if I'm to seriously pursue planting, I should probably start to get my brain around (in a more formalized way, at any rate) what I think the whole thing is about. Personally, I've found that thinking through this concept, this dream of God's that we call the church, has opened new ways of thinking about the rest of the story as well. I've hinted at this before - I think that the church on some level is the answer to the problem revealed in the beginnings of Genesis, the abrogation of the imago dei and the substitution of curse for wholeness. Here's what I think the church is: The church is the community of people who are gathered in Christ to image God to a watching world.

At least that's my first draft - what do you think? I want to try to unpack this connection that I see between image and church and see if we can't make sense of the Story from the perspective of God's actions within a group of people who represent the breaking-in of heaven to the present. And hopefully we can expose some false dichotomies along the way - should be fun!

Technorati Tags: ecclesiology, theology

Serendipity

I've debated about whether or not to post this. It's way premature. Anything could happen. The whole thing could fall through. I might discover that it's not for me. Others might decide I'm not for them. Maybe nobody else will want to play. Maybe I can't do this. Maybe I'm just kidding myself.

You see, one of the things that has kept me going through the past several years of indecision, confusion, pain, and angst about my experiences in student ministry and subsequent exit has been this half-baked dream in the back of my head about something improbable. I've thought, on and off for probably eight years or more, that I wanted to be a part of planting a church. I've held that thought through two less than stellar staff experiences, and then through a time when I thought the dream was dead for good. I held those dreams in one hand on more than one occasion, spade in the other, prepared to bury them and move on. I've clung to them when it seemed the only thing keeping me going was an irrational, intuitive belief that they were not dead, only asleep. I've argued with God about them on more than one occasion, yelled and ranted and raved and sobbed and simply sat in sullen silence. I've hauled them out of bed every morning as I headed off to a job that I never expected to take. I've drug them to bed with me at night after staying up far too late reading tales from others who have pursued their dreams as I sit and watch and wait.

I have other dreams also - dreams of further study, of more letters to follow my name, of books and papers and lectures and classes and teaching. I've carried that set of dreams alongside the first, as both of them have seemed about equally probable. Lately, though, I've been thinking that my path would carry me out of vocational ministry entirely, taking me into the world of academics and further study, pursuing one set of dreams while abandoning the other for good. But that path has also remained closed - the money is all wrong, I'm not ready academically without additional coursework in languages, and foremost, my kids have watched me do homework for long enough. In other words, what seemed the most likely path is also the most costly, and it's coin that I can ill afford to pay. I don't want my kids growing up as academic orphans.

However, this week I had a meeting, a not-quite-random encounter that has changed many things. I heard words of encouragement, of welcome, of shared purpose and vision, and of possibility. Tentative words, words that mean more conversation must follow. But a nearly abandoned dream has started to awaken, and I feel alive. It's a good feeling. It means that, perhaps, I've done the right thing in guarding this nearly-expired hope against extinction.

I may be getting way ahead of myself. This might not happen, and I might be all wrong.

But maybe not.

Heretic's Guide - What's Good? (p. 5)

My head feels clearer and my thoughts more coherent, so I thought I'd jump back into things with a more positive note. Thus far, I've been rather critical of Spencer's book A Heretic's Guide to Eternity. But the book isn't all bad - Spencer does, I think, rightly identify some of the problem of the typical evangelical approach to the gospel, and that's a good thing. Spencer and I agree on at least one thing - the gospel is bigger than a transaction and means more than spending eternity in a really happy place.

I'm sympathetic to Spencer's underlying premise, even if I don't buy it wholesale. I'll speak specifically so as to avoid some of what I take to be problematic language on Spencer's part. Conservative Christian religion in the American context has often seen itself as God's power broker. To put it crassly, the way to God is through Jesus, and the way to Jesus is through "us" - whoever us may be. As a result, the Christian faith has been put to the service of all kinds of masters in the interests of power. Let me be blunt - conservative Christianity is not God's power broker. In fact, to the degree that it has failed to recognize its own stance in relation to power, it has also failed in its efforts to embody the gospel as demonstrated by the Cross. Let's not kid ourselves: doctrine is used for threat as well as for welcome, for control as well as for empowerment, for division as well as for cohesion. And that's not just regrettable - it's often simply sinful.

So here's the difficulty - if the gospel is a transaction on the premise of saying a prayer or participating in a liturgy or whatever, then the ones who control that transaction also control eternity. And, yes, that's a ridiculously crass way of putting it. But it's there; it's present in the conservative Christian subculture - a radical minority, to be sure, but at the same time, too many folks pay too much attention to what folks like Robertson and Falwell say for me to think that it's a minor issue. So foreign policy becomes doctrinal and the Pledge of Allegiance becomes liturgical and we all wonder why nobody pays attention to us anymore. When folks like Katherine Harris can campaign for their own election by saying things like to elect people who are not Christians to public office is to "legislate sin", then I have to cry foul. That's not the gospel - it's attempting to make the gospel serve two masters.

So, yes, to the degree that Christian "religion" prevents us from being good neighbors, then I'd say that it's bad. (But I'd also say that it's no longer Christian.) And focusing on a "decision" can, I think, contribute to that. Spencer is right to suggest that Christianity is far, far less about praying a prayer and far more about following Jesus. It's a commitment; it's a way of life. It's something into which we enter as participants and travelers, and not something that we complete. It's more a process and less a moment - although moments, such as decisions or conversions, are absolutely significant and should not be discounted. And it's far, far more about a new creation and God's actions to bring that about than it is about eternal bliss and comfort for the faithful few. It's about the Kingdom being near, and God being with us.

So, then, to the degree that Spencer is critiquing a kind of religion that doesn't represent the fullness of the gospel - then I'm in agreement, even if we may disagree on what to do about it.

Technorati Tags: books, emerging church, Heretic's Guide to Eternity, Spencer Burke

Clearing My Thoughts

There are a few reasons that I'm a miserable blogger. For one, I get stuck on a topic and run it into the ground. I'm fine with that, don't get me wrong - when that happens, it's typically something that I'm muddling my way through, and this serves as a forum to get my thoughts in order and to put them out for input or critique. But on the other hand, I do at times tend to burn out on a topic. Spencer's book is a case in point. I actually have a few more thoughts that I think I need to pull together, but I needed to step away for a few days to clear my brain. I'm rarely as negative as I've been about that book, and it's not a place that I really enjoy. And there are some positives that I think the book brings to the table as well - for me, though, they're buried in a lot of other stuff that I find bothersome and, at times, disturbing, and not in a good sense. So I wanted to think about the positives as well, to offer some balance to what I've said thus far. So, my head is much clearer now, and I hope to finish my thoughts on the book this week.

On another note, somewhere along the line this blog became a book blog. And I'm fine with that too, on some level - I read voraciously, probably more than anyone else that I know personally, and a lot of what I've been reading recently has been quite formative. But a few months ago a friend of mine was busting my chops about the praxis part of theopraxis - he said it's more like "reflecting about reflective action". And there's just enough truth in there, jesting aside, that it stuck in my head and has been bothering me ever since. Truth is that, when I stepped out of youth ministry two years ago, I was so burnt out that it's taken me the time since to recuperate. And now that I'm itching to get involved again, I can't seem to find a niche. Spiritual journey makes for a fun metaphor, but it's a pain in the tail to have to experience - especially when the destination is rather vague. Bottom line - frustration is a lousy writing partner. Hence the books - at least interacting with someone else's work provides something of a nudge towards constructive thought.

As a blogger, I've always been much more a thinker than a linker. The downside to that is that, when your own thoughts aren't worth publishing, then there's not much to fall back on.