The End is the Beginning: A People of Vocation

Previous posts in this series can be found here, here, here, and here.

God calls Abram in Genesis 12 and inaugurates a new era in history. Much ink has been spilled on this particular topic, but permit me to add my own small take: the call of Abram isn't something to be read in isolation from the previous 11 chapters, but rather as a continuation of them. In other words, God's call of Abram is a creational act, through and through - or, more specifically, perhaps we should call it an act of re-creation, a glimmer of the new amid the old.

What is really happening in the call of Abram is nothing less than God's reinstitution of his creation project that has become derailed. This is important, because what we need to recognize here is that God isn't about scrapping the mess and starting over. The creation project has become deeply and foundationally broken, but God remains committed to it, determined to see it to his desired end. And he intends to do this, not by starting a new thing as over against the old, but rather by bringing the new right smack-dab in the middle of the old, so that in the end the old will be subsumed in the new. Some time later, one of Abram's descendants will describe this sort of activity in terms of yeast and mustard seeds - but we're not there yet. In fact, this is a puzzling bit of news, as Abram is an old man without children.

The themes of creation are rich in the Abram narrative, if we know how to look for them. Perhaps the most significant is the theme of giving fullness to that which is empty - God fills the void of creation in Genesis 1, and God fills a similar void in Abram and Sarai's life by providing a child. This leads to a twofold promise in relation to the land - Abram's descendants will rule it and fill it, a microcosm of the vocational call of the image of God granted to the man and woman in Genesis 1. New creation begins here, with the institution of the people of Israel and the assignment of a vocation to them. We significantly misstate the point of Genesis 1-11 when we read it to discover how God went about the task of creation. This has little to do with creation in a general sense. Genesis 1-11 is included in our text specifically to tell us who the people of God are and what their task is to be. Genesis 1 is about Abram more than it is about Adam.

And yet, we are left with Adam's legacy - remember the statement in Genesis 5? Adam had a son in his image. Abram is as much a child of Adam as he is a child of God - the fundamental flaw that has endangered the creation project to this point in the narrative has yet to be resolved. The rest of the Old Testament is about the conflict between these two realities, image and curse - and at the end of the narrative, we find that Abram's descendants are cast from the land in an event that is strangely reminiscent of another exiling, long before, in a garden somewhere in the same neighborhood.

The End is the Beginning: Frustration of Vocation

Previous posts in this series can be found here, here, and here.

When I last picked up this topic, I described my understanding of the image of God in humanity as a vocation to which we are called, specifically that of furthering and completing the creation project begun by God in Genesis 1 by ordering and filling the earth. I also described my understanding of the curse as the distortion of that vocation, reflected in the aspects of the curse that were given to the man and the woman - the man was cursed with enmity between him and the earth, frustrating the task of ordering creation, while the woman was cursed with hardship in childbirth, frustrating the task of filling creation. Further, the man and the woman were set at odds with each other, with man dominating the woman instead of reflecting the joint image-bearing task that was given them in Genesis 1.

Image, you see, is a communal task. It isn't something that you bear and that I bear, but rather something that we, together, bear as we participate with God in his creation project. Or, put differently, you and I are each created in the image of God - but we reflect that image as a whole, as a people, as a community. That is, I think, the lesson of Genesis 1. In contrast to the kings of Babylon and Egypt who were said to be the image of the gods, the Hebrew scriptures describe it as something that we all share and that is distorted when we do not recognize it in one another.

This, however, is exactly what happens in Genesis 4-11. We see humanity caught between image and curse, attempting to order and fill the earth yet harming, enslaving, and killing one another. This is a difficult set of chapters for us to read because the events described clash significantly with our modern sensibilities - and for good reason! They describe what happens when the image of God is frustrated and the divine task is abandoned. The flood story is one of the most troubling texts in the whole of the Christian canon, if we will be honest. But I think what the narrative is meant to portray is the intensity with which God will guard his creation project. I think that what we take away from such a story is that the project is in serious jeopardy. Regardless of how one approaches the question of the sovereignty of God, what is in my view undeniable is that in the narrative God is forced to take drastic action - that's what the logic of the story tells us. Things are devolving quickly.

I think it fascinating that this particular section ends where it does, with the narrative of Babel. It's an odd sort of tale that doesn't strike many chords with contemporary readers - but I think it's a powerful climax that drives home the question of how God will respond. Middleton writes in The Liberating Image that what God is opposing in this story is a sort of proto-Babylonian empire that subjugates other peoples and conscripts them into massive imperial building projects. In his view, the single language of the story isn't some idyllic time when everyone spoke the same language - in fact, chapter 10 describes the various people-groups as developing their own languages as a natural progression of their spreading out and filling the earth. However, it was common for a conquering nation to impose its own language on conquered peoples to facilitate their labor. What the narrative of Genesis 11 represents, then, is the actions of an empire whose intention is to "make a name" for itself in opposition to the purposes of God. It will accomplish this task through oppression and conquest, using means such as forced labor and imposition of a common language to unite the conquered peoples for massive building projects. God's intervention in this project results in the cessation of building, the return to many languages, and the dispersion of people across the land - in short, the return to God's purposes for humanity.

God intervenes numerous times in the first eleven chapters of the story to protect his creation project - but he is about to move in a whole new way. Next, we'll look at Abram's call from the perspective of the divine vocation and the imago dei.

Technorati Tags: narrative, new creation

Living Towards Resurrection

When I last poked my head above the waters, I mentioned that I was working my way through a collection of essays by Stanley Hauerwas called A Better Hope. Hauerwas is nothing if not challenging and thought-provoking, and he's sort of rattled around a few ideas that have been sitting in my head for a while and given them some new life. Most folks who have been reading this little site for any length of time will know that one of my main concerns theologically is to begin to think about how we are to be Christian in suburban America (which is my current context) and what challenges and opportunities such a context presents. Part of that process is to describe where we are in the sense of what forces shape the way we think and act. Economics represent a significant influence in that regard, forming what seems to me to be the predominant sphere of meaning for suburbanites in America. More on this in a moment.

Look underneath the surface of suburban America and I believe that you'll find a simmering anxiety, frustration, despair, and even at times rage. We live in a society that is defined by instant gratification and disposability, an extraordinarily bad combination that creates a situation of lingering discontent. No matter how much we spend or how many things we purchase, we are unable to achieve any sense of lasting enjoyment or even stability. More than that, we are a people who cannot help but spend, because we have lost the means to create or produce anything of value for ourselves.

Stop and think about that for a moment, because it's utterly significant, I think. We are completely dependent on the continued health of our economic system for our very survival. Without the market, we have no food or shelter. It's that simple. Most people in first-world cultures in the twenty first century are completely incapable of self sufficiency when it comes to our food, because we lack the ability to grow crops or raise herds or hunt game. Likewise our housing - without a means of purchasing a home, or at the least the land and materials required to construct a home, we have no place to live. Our two basic necessities, food and shelter, must be purchased with money earned at the workplace. At the most basic level, we sell our services to corporations so that we can in return eat and stay out of the weather. And if a corporation will not buy our services, we do not eat and we sleep in the rain.

It's no wonder that we've become a consumerist society - we don't have a choice. The economy that we've constructed around ourselves won't allow anything else. Even the self-sufficiencies of a generation ago are dying - witness the steady decline of small businesses. The economies of scale that a multinational corporation can achieve makes it nearly impossible for "mom and pop" stores to compete on many levels. We are driven slowly and inexorably into the arms of big businesses.

I find it fascinating that we face a conundrum of choice - we have more choices available to us, for everything from transportation to toilet paper, and yet so little of those choices actually have meaning. We're merely selecting a brand from the multitude that are available. All of our choices seem to revolve around a simple pattern: we are born, we consume, and we pass away. And our value, our worth, our dignity as human beings is tied to that ability to consume - if we cannot generate capital, then we do not have value. We are something less than human. But the reality is that, by linking so strongly our dignity to our ability to consume, we have already devalued ourselves and made each other to be something less than human. We exist merely to serve the whims of the market.

I'm not tearing down capitalism, by the way. I think that capitalism offers much that is good. My concern is that it makes a wonderful servant, but a terrible master - and master it has become. The tragedy is that we do not recognize it for what it is.

I'm not entirely certain of how to go about fixing this mess - I'm simply one small voice stuck in the system along with everyone else. But I can perhaps tell a different story, one that speaks of humans created in the image of God, who possess dignity because of that image and not because they can produce and consume. I can tell a story about a New Creation towards which we hope, one that has already broken into this present age. And I can tell a story about resurrection, about those things which will be incorporated into that New Creation and about our task in living towards that coming resurrection.

Such stories have power, and moreso when they are true. And when we allow them to become true in our own lives, then something is unleashed which cannot be bought or sold, but which just might begin to turn the whole system upside down...

Technorati Tags: economics, image, imago dei, suburbs

Image-bearing Praxis: Equality

Previous entries in this series can be found here.

I've been sitting on this post for nearly a month, debating about how to proceed. It's not that I doubt my beliefs, my theology, or my understanding of Scripture on this - nothing could be further from the truth. It's not so much that I don't want to wade into controversial territory - that if anything I've never avoided. It's more a concern for how to approach a subject that is often contentious, sometimes destructively so, in such a way that I do justice to the subject and to those who come to read about it. It's a concern to avoid caricature or overstatement, and to honor those with whom I disagree by avoiding straw men, inflammatory rhetoric, and other such unproductive language. It's no small task; whether I succeed will be for the reader to judge.

I am, of course, thinking of the complex subject of gender in the body of Christ. What does it mean to be created male and female in the image of God; what does it mean to structure ourselves as an image-bearing community; what does it mean to serve God, one another, and the world in self-giving expressions of love - these are the questions with which I have been wrestling. My conclusion is no doubt as obvious as my title. That choice was itself the subject of no small amount of thought. Invariably the notion of "equality" will, rightly or wrongly, bring to mind thoughts of one's rights in a liberal democracy, of entitlements and such, and that isn't the point. But I've chosen it anyway, simply because I cannot think of a better way to say what I take to be the God-shaped way in which men and women are to function as followers of Jesus.

Michael Kruse has recently blogged his way through the book Discovering Biblical Equality - I heartily recommend a read through his posts on this subject for those who desire to understand some of the interpretive issues that I assume here but choose not to discuss directly. I'm heading in a different direction here, not because I think the interpretive issues commonly discussed are unimportant but rather because my interest is in something that doesn't seem to hit our radar as often or as forcefully when gender roles are considered. I'm interested in the nature of the gospel itself, in God's creation project in which we are called to participate as men and women, as ourselves a new creation together in Christ, as a people gathered in Christ to image God to a watching world.

I've said before that I think one of the great tragedies of much contemporary Protestant interpretation of the New Testament is that the gospel has by and large collapsed into the personal, spiritual, and eternal. It's fine to speak of the gospel as being about saving souls to live in heaven forever. It's less so to speak of the gospel as being about God's kingdom action here, presently, on earth - that's the pathway to liberalism. And to speak of it as being about God's creating a new community, an ekklesia, a Church - well, that's almost to become Catholic (said with tongue firmly in cheek). But that's precisely what I think the gospel is: an invitation to become a part of the people of God, to join an alternative community of those who live with their feet planted in both the temporal and eternal at the same time. In other words, I think that to deny the social dimensions of the gospel is to come dangerously close to denying the gospel itself, simply because I don't think there's any way to separate out the social and communal elements from the rest of it.

All of that to say that when Paul writes in Galatians 3 that there is now no Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female, I don't think he's at all talking about who gets into heaven at death, as some would interpret the passage. This isn't a discussion of soteriology - it's about ecclesiology. It's why Peter's choice to separate himself from his Gentile brothers and sisters at mealtime constituted something of a denial of the gospel:

When Peter came to Antioch, I opposed him to his face, because he was clearly in the wrong. Before certain men came from James, he used to eat with the Gentiles. But when they arrived, he began to draw back and separate himself from the Gentiles because he was afraid of those who belonged to the circumcision group. The other Jews joined him in his hypocrisy, so that by their hypocrisy even Barnabas was led astray. When I saw that they were not acting in line with the truth of the gospel, I said to Peter... (Gal. 2:11-14, emphasis added)

The way that we structure ourselves as a community is absolutely significant. It's significant enough that Paul could accuse Peter of abandoning the gospel because of his table fellowship. And, in this same letter, Paul calls attention to not just ethnic divides - he also calls us to task on our economic and gender divisions as well. The implication is that failing to allow the gospel to remove the social effects of such divisions is to fail to hold to the gospel itself. This isn't a scenario where speaking of different "roles" will do - there's simply no hint or suggestion of that in the biblical text. "Equal in being, unequal in role" is extraordinarily hard to sustain, not least from scripture itself.

If imaging God is an authority-bearing, vocational concept as I've argued extensively throughout this series, then to image God in our communities means to approach the question of gender roles in a cruciform manner, empowering others for service. This is at the very heart of what it means to be created in the image of God, created male and female as the Genesis text relates. And the gospel, then, as God's invitation to enter into the renewed community of His people absolutely must inform the ways in which we structure ourselves. If, as Paul states so beautifully, there truly is no Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female in Christ, then let this be so - let us image God by opening our communities to the service of any who are gifted. Let me be more direct: a community that restricts women from exercising their gifts by limiting the roles that they can fill, like Peter and Barnabas does not act in line with the truth of the gospel. Only through equality, through mutual service and empowerment, can we fulfill our creational vocation and become communities in the image of God.

Technorati Tags: community, ecclesiology, image of God, imago dei, equality

Image-bearing Praxis: Hospitality

Just a few quick thoughts for this evening. I wanted to start jotting down some thoughts on what the practices of a community in the image of God might be. The background to this brief series can be found here; a shorter version can be found in this article that I wrote for next wave. I want to begin by thinking about the practice of hospitality.

I've written previously about hospitality here. It's an under-expressed value in the American context, I think, for many reasons, not least because we typically live lives that are functionally oriented towards self. I'd define hospitality as the practice of opening one's life to others. This can take many forms - I'm less interested in the form and more in the focus or direction. Hospitality is something that I've thought in the past is a wonderful apologetic. I haven't, however, discussed how it can also serve as a discipline, both for self and for a community.

The act of opening one's life to others is inherently a self-giving act. As a result, it is naturally image-shaped; it naturally flows from a life oriented towards service and sacrifice. If I am consumed by self, I have no room for another; hospitality encourages me to make space for the other, space in which relationship can blossom and self-giving love can be expressed. Hospitality is also grounded in a sense of dignity of the other - I cannot open my life to one I hold in contempt.

Hospitality as a communal practice seems perhaps a bit counter-intuitive, unless it's used to give a more important-sounding name to the ministry of bulletin distribution. True communal hospitality means more than that, however - it's not about making sure that people have a good impression when they enter a gathering. That isn't hospitality; it's marketing. Hospitality is more about making space in the community for the stranger. In the Old Testament, the "stranger" was one who was not a part of the people of Israel but who found himself or herself among them. Hospitality for the stranger was a key part of keeping Torah. Today, we also as the people of God would do well to remember that we need to make space for the strangers among us. This could mean something as simple as telling the Story in such a way that it can be heard by those who do not know it, or structuring our gatherings so that the stranger feels welcome. It could also mean something more - it might mean making space for the hungry by providing something to eat; it might mean making space for the hurting by providing support and care; it might mean making space for the poor by providing help in times of need. It always, though, means making space for relationship to develop with folks who come into contact with the community, relationship that recognizes the inherent dignity of the other and gives gladly and selflessly.

Technorati Tags: community, ecclesiology, image of God, imago dei, hospitality

Community in the Image of God: Justice (p. 10)

I've been suggesting that the image of God represents God's delegated authority to humanity to participate in the divine task of creation. I've also been suggesting that at the heart of the metaphor is an understanding of what that authority means, an understanding of the use of power in service to others. The authority of God is self-giving and empowering - creation itself represents God's empowering of something other than himself to be. To use authority and power in the image of God is to give it away.

A community in the image of God is characterized precisely by this cruciform use of power. It is at its most Christlike at precisely the point at which it is least self-seeking and self-serving. This challenges us - it isn't enough for us to serve each other. To truly reflect the image of God, a community must reach outside of itself - it must do more that serve the interests of its own people. A community can focus on service and still be self-seeking, if that service never extends beyond the bounds of its own walls.

The community of God has always existed for the benefit of others. The Abramic covenant in Genesis 12 is explicit - the blessing on Abram was ultimately for the blessing of the world. That the people of Abraham rarely succeeded in this vocation does not nullify the call. And the shape of that vocation was, in its intent, self-giving; the powerless were to be protected, defended, and upheld, those the Old Testament calls the orphan, widow, and stranger. The word that the prophets use for this care is justice - not in the legal sense with which we are familiar, but rather in the sense of what is Right, what is God-shaped and God-honoring.

This Old Testament category is something challenging. It calls us to serve those who cannot return the favor. It calls us to give that which will not be returned. It calls us to set aside any benefit that we might receive in order that another might receive benefit in our place. It is, in some sense, a little death - a death of self, that another might live. It is the vocation of the cross - the ultimate abandonment of one's life in service to another. It is the irrevocable giving away of power that asks for nothing in return.

If this sounds familiar to Christian ears, it should not be surprising - it is the gospel. The Good News is that God has empowered us to become his children, and has done so by setting aside his own power and taking up the cross. We who are being formed in his image are called to the same. To be a community in the image of God is to pursue justice. It is to serve those who cannot repay, seeking no benefit to self. It is in such acts that the way of Christ is revealed most clearly - and in such moments that we are most in the image of God.

Technorati Tags: ecclesiology, image of God, imago dei, power, justice

Community in the Image of God: Mission (p. 9)

I wish I had written this post sooner, while last week's cohort meeting was fresh in my mind. We had a great conversation led by John Franke of Biblical Seminary on the missional nature of the triune God. The details are growing more fuzzy, but I'm going to attempt to pull them together as they mesh nicely with the thoughts that I've been sharing in relation to the image of God and Christian community. Franke suggested that mission was a part of God's very nature. This in itself was a fascinating approach; it made me wish again that I'd had more opportunity to take courses with him while at Biblical. He based this thought on the eternal community that exists in God's triune nature. God exists in an eternal relationship of love among the members of the Trinity - God is loving community in God's very self. Creation, then, is an act of love whereby the created other is invited into the eternal love relationship that is God's self. This creational invitation lies at the heart of what it means to be missional - God's eternal mission is to invite others to share the love of his eternal community.

What is interesting about this in connection with my current line of thought is that, not only does it provide a robust means for reflecting on the nature of mission, but it also serves to ground the creational mandate in missional purpose. God's rule in the creation narrative is generous, precisely because it represents an invitation to creation to enter into the God-life. God's purpose in the post-fall world remains exactly that - invitation has now become redemption. And God's purposes in redemption are entrusted to communities of people whose vocation is to image God before a watching world - first Israel, then later the Church, the gathered followers of Christ.

To be a community in the image of God, then, is to be missional. It is to be a community of people who are about something greater than just themselves. Put simply, a community that does not see itself as participating in God's redemptive activities in the world is a community that is missing its vocation of imaging God. God's rule is for the purposes of inviting others to enter into the God-life of love in community. If the image of God represents that authority delegated to humanity, then stewarding that authority calls us to do the same. We bear God's image not for ourselves, but for the benefit and blessing of all creation.

Technorati Tags: ecclesiology, image of God, imago dei, John Franke

Community in the Image of God: Empowerment (p. 8)

Yesterday I posted my thoughts on the nature of power in Christian community. My difficulty in these posts is that there's too much ground to cover - it feels as though I'm slogging through knee deep snow. Every post reminds me of how much more needs to be said. Yesterday's was probably where I've felt most like that; it was honestly about half a post that I just had to conclude. Now I'm going to break another practice of mine - allowing a post to have its own focus for a few days before moving on to another topic - because I just can't let this one sit half-stated.

Here's the problem that I started to discuss but never quite articulated: most people, in my experience, who have issues with the way we practice Christian community immediately default to critiquing the structure. The problem, depending on who you're reading, is the senior pastor model, or it's the paid clergy model, or it's the congregational model, or it's the model that doesn't follow Paul's teachings on eldership (usually male), or it's the corporate model, or it's... well, you get the picture. It's the structure's fault, and what we need is a new way to think about the structure. Or, alternately, we need to just get back to that One True Structure that dropped down from heaven immediately following the ascension. That will fix everything.

My problem with this line of thought is that I think it bypasses the actual problems altogether. I don't think the structure is the problem at all. Now, don't get me wrong - some structures are certainly in need of critiquing. But structure isn't like the Grail - it's not as though we find that One True Structure and everything is now sunshine and daisies. The problem is that every structure is inhabited by people - people who sometimes don't use power in the image of God. And that problem is inherent to all structures, so in some sense there isn't One True Structure at all, only broken people who sometimes succeed and sometimes fail at serving God and each other.

One thing that comes up often it seems in emerging church circles is a critique of paid staff. The argument gets framed in a number of different ways, but invariably the criticism always comes back to the fact that paying someone to serve the community either disenfranchises the people in the community or it lets them off the hook. On the other hand, the Spirit has gifted everyone in the community, so we shouldn't separate out one or a few for positional, paid leadership - to do so denies the priesthood of all believers or some such. And I recognize that there is some legitimacy to this complaint, that at times these criticisms are valid and that sometimes the ways these structures play out are functionally unhelpful or even detrimental. But to dismiss paid staff entirely I suggest misses the point - it's the One True Structure fallacy. Or let's remove the "pay" function from the equation. How are we to think about "leadership" in the image of God, leadership that is cruciform in nature? Is positional authority ever valid?

I've been suggesting all along that the proper use of authority in the image of God involves empowering others. And this, I think, is what is beautiful about having healthy leadership in a community. I confess that I hate the word "leadership" because I think it borrows too much from corporatespeak and carries an unhelpful set of assumptions. But I can't think of a better word without needing another post to define it - so I'm going with the terminology for now but understand that I only mean here people who are called out from among the community for the purposes of directing, governing, or administering the work of the community. If you're reading that carefully, you'll see I'm already moving in a particular direction. Congregational leadership, at its best, is marked by empowerment. The community has recognized the need for setting aside a few people to attend more closely to the "stuff" of the community - leadership, at its best, is empowered by the congregation to lead. It's not a top-down, corporate model where the CEO calls the shots and everyone else jumps. Nothing makes me cringe more than hearing pastors or other staff refer to themselves by such terminology. Positional authority in the image of God is a matter of empowerment. The leaders are called to serve the community through the community's recognition of the empowerment of the Spirit on their lives for the task - in a sense, it's a double empowerment, both Spirit and community.

But what does that mean? What are these folks empowered to do? I suggest that the community empowers congregational leaders for the purpose of further empowerment. This is, I think, a fairly straightforward reading of Ephesians:

It was he [Christ] who gave some to be apostles, some to be prophets, some to be evangelists, and some to be pastors and teachers, to prepare God's people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ.

In other words, congregational leaders are to be about the task of helping the community image God. A community sets aside people who will help that community in their vocation as the people of God. This isn't about structure. It's about the way that a structure functions. Any structure can be a tool for helping a community more appropriately reflect the image of God. Any structure can be damaging to that vocation. What is important in any structure is the way in which the people within that structure use power. If it is hoarded and used for personal advancement or gain, then the community will suffer. If it is given away and used to empower others, then the community will flourish.

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

Community in the Image of God: Service (p. 7)

In my last post I began reflecting on the subject of power in the community of God. I referenced some of Yoder's excellent work on this subject in pointing to the cross as the foundation of NT ethics. I want to spend a bit more time unpacking this, because I think it is absolutely central to any discussion of ecclesiology (which is what this whole thing is supposed to be about ;). Unfortunately, I think it also happens to be most often one of the subjects that receives the least treatment, to our detriment.

"Power" is a loaded word, I freely admit. Often, when it's used about relationships or interactions between people, it seems to be used as a synonym for control or authority (in a negative sense). At its most basic, however, I think it's well within reason to simply use "power" to refer to the ability to act. This is, on the surface, an extraordinarily simplistic definition. However, a moment's thought should reveal that it is anything but. Take, for instance, this little blog of mine. Having a blog is a measure of power - I can post something, and my thoughts are distributed to a small number of folks who actually read what I say. In this sense, I have the ability to act, specifically as it relates to communication. I have power. Power, in this sense, is value-neutral; it simply represents my ability to distribute my ideas and thoughts. Many, many others also have this same power, some in greater measure (because of larger reader communities) and others less. Some do not have this power at all - perhaps they do not have access to an internet connection; perhaps they lack the knowledge of blogging; perhaps they cannot read or write. And here is where the question of power starts to move away from the realm of value-neutral: the question of who has power, in the sense of the ability to act, and who does not is sometimes (but not always) a question of justice. More on this later - we have some road yet to travel before we tackle the question of justice. There is a second, more immediate question that also confronts us as we move away from the value-neutral. Assuming that we are people who have the ability to act, what do we do with that power? This is, I'd argue, the central question of New Testament ethics from the vantage of the cross.

The cross only has meaning in the context of ethics if it can speak to the relationships between and interactions among people. This is, after all, the stuff of which ethics are made. And it is precisely in this context that the cross must - absolutely must - shape our understanding of authority. The premise of my argument is as follows: to be created in the image of God means to carry the delegated authority of God for accomplishing the divine task of completing the creation project. Christ is the one who demonstrates the perfect image of God. Christ's authority - authority received from the Father - is most perfectly demonstrated in his self-giving act on the cross. To use authority, then, as God's steward being formed in the image of Christ is to follow the example of Christ in self-giving. New Testament authority - Christian authority - is inherently cruciform. If it is not, then it is not Christian.

Ok - so that's a lot of hot air, unless it actually intersects with our day-to-day. Here, precisely here, is where I think church structures are often damaging to the purposes of the Kingdom. And it is precisely here where I think that many folks are starting to rethink existing structures - and I say for that Praise God. It cannot happen quickly or broadly enough. Daniel Kirk, who I met at a recent gathering of the Philly emergent cohort, recently posted these thoughts:

The servant/death model of ministerial leadership seems to be taking hold in missional circles, and once it's started to get inside your head you see that it's on nearly every page of the NT. This is one of those places where I think that conditions are right for more people giving a better reading to the idea of "Christian leadership" than has happened in the past. Corporate models don't work because they depend on a model of exercising coercive rather than self-sacrificial authority. (emphasis added)

I think he's exactly right here. To my way of thinking, there are two ways that one can exercise power: keep it for oneself and one's own benefit, or give it away. I have no question which of those two is cruciform. I also have no question which of those is prevalent in most church structures today - or, to be more specific, most American evangelical churches, which is my own context.

Here is the problem: too many churches today are structured on the basis of control. Power is centralized in the hands of one, or a few, key "leaders" who determine what does or does not happen in the community. The ability to act narrows to a select few. This can be accomplished in many different ways - means is not key here; intent is. How do I know if I am a part of such a structure? If the church is organized so that the resources are directed to fulfill the purposes of one, or a few, key "leaders", then I'd suggest that there is a power problem. If one person has the "vision" or the "mission", there's a problem. If one person ideologically dominates the community so that a healthy atmosphere of diverse opinions are unwelcome, there's a problem. If, in short, nobody can act without the blessing of the "leader" - then that community has failed its task of imaging God.

It's really not about the actual structures here so much as it is about the way those structures operate. I've been in churches with a senior pastor model that were simply fantastic, healthy communities. I've been in churches with team structures that were oppressive and, at times, abusive. I'm in a church currently that, to my knowledge, is a stellar example of the best kind of use of power here. I've served in churches that shame me to remember how power was used and abused. What sets a church apart - what identifies a church in the image of God - is simply an emphasis on service. If serving is a part of the very culture of the community, embodied by those who are in positional authority and embraced by the community at large, then a church images God well. And this is especially true for those in positional authority. "Leadership" is not a biblical mandate for New Testament communities. Service, however, is. Those who are in positional authority are there because of their desire to serve - to empower - others. They do not keep power for their own purposes. They give it away - empowering others and enabling them to do the same. New Testament authority is not "power over". In fact, that is something that is explicitly forbidden by Christ. Instead, the greatest are to be distinguished by their great service - by their greatness in humility, in empowering others and in their self-giving.

I feel like there's more to say - but this is too long already. Let's see where the discussion heads.

Technorati Tags: cross, ecclesiology, image of God, imago dei, power

Community in the Image of God: Power (p. 6)

I've been toying around with this post for several days. To be honest, I'm not entirely settled on where to start; it's a huge topic that rightly deserves a book-length treatment. I've written previously on the topic here, here, here, and here, among others - it's something of a theme for me, I suppose. Part of this is because of my own story, because of my own wrestling with my very identity as a follower of Christ as a result of the abuse of power of some within specific church structures. Part of this is because of my influences, Yoder, Brueggemann, and Hauerwas being significant among those, and anyone who has read anything by authors such as those will quickly recognize that theme as one that runs through their works as well. And part of this is because of the way I read the Story - which brings us back to the topic at hand. I think that it is perfectly credible to read the Story from the perspective of the use and abuse of power, or more specifically, the delegated authority that is ours as ones in the image of God.

This theme is all over the place in scripture. You don't have to search for it - once you've become aware of it, it leaps off the page as you read, grabs your attention and refuses to release. But I want to focus on something specific, and so will resist the urge towards breadth. I suggest that the proper use of power is at the center of a Jesus-shaped ethic, and in particular, of a community formed in the image of God.

Yoder's Politics of Jesus transformed my thinking on this. Yoder makes an observation in the book that blew me away and changed the way I think about the gospel for good. He says this:

As we noted before more briefly: there is no general concept of living like Jesus in the New Testament...His formation of a small circle of disciples whom he taught through months of close contact has been claimed as a model pastoral method; his teaching of parables has been made a model of graphic communication; there have been efforts to imitate his prayer life or his forty days in the desert: but not in the New Testament.

There is but one realm in which the concept of imitation holds - but there it holds in every strand of the New Testament literature and all the more strikingly by virtue of the absence of parallels in other realms. This is the point of the concrete social meaning of the cross in relation to enmity and power. Servanthood replaces dominion; forgiveness absorbs hostility. Thus - and only thus - are we bound by New Testament thought to "be like Jesus." (pp 130-131, emphasis added)

...and I can never read the NT the same way again. Say what you will about models of atonement - and I think they are vitally important, don't get me wrong - the one that receives practically no attention in American evangelicalism today is that of example. We are deluged with ways in which we can figure out WWJD - but the one way in which the NT actually addresses the question is completely ignored. The cross is the NT ethic - the voluntary relinquishing of power in service to another.

If the image of God is about delegated authority, and if the one way in which God's authority is most clearly shown is in the voluntary embrace of the cross, then we as a community in the image of God must practice authority in the same way. To do otherwise is to deny our very identity as the people of God. Paul says it in this way:

Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,
but made himself nothing,
taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to death--
even death on a cross.

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

Community in the Image of God: Dignity (p. 5)

One of the significant contextual elements of the language of the image of God in Genesis 1 is the inherent dignity of all humanity. In contrast to other ideologies that used such language only for the powerful, Genesis "democratizes" the language by declaring that all people, men and women, rich and poor, of all nationalities are image-bearers, stewards of the authority of God. Functionally, this serves as the basis for a Christian perspective on human dignity. To be human is to be a member of a royal line, one that has since fallen into dishonor but in whom can still be glimpsed at times the grandeur of its origins. We carry with us the divine task, entrusted to us at creation and still a part of our identity, even though we have done much to hinder the very ideal that we are called to represent.

As I've been suggesting, the tragedy at the heart of the biblical narrative finds humanity caught between image and curse. Image tells us that we have a royal heritage and a divine vocation; curse tells us that we have failed both. There is a word, I think, that perfectly describes our condition as a result of this tension: shame. We live under the constant intuitive sense that something has gone wrong at the very heart of who we are as people; when we are most honest, we admit that this sense of what-is-wrong is directed at ourselves - at myself - and not simply at society at large. Since the garden, we have been hiding, one from another, trying vainly to cover our shame with ever more elaborate constructs; but at the end of the day, they work little better than leaves of fig.

Buried in that narrative from Genesis 3 is, however, a small tidbit that perhaps we forget too easily. God has discovered the betrayal. God has passed judgment, in tears I believe, casting them out of the paradise for which they were intended. The divine task has been frustrated and the image tarnished. And yet, God does something that is beautiful in the middle of the chaos and pain. He covers the shame of the man and woman; clothes them and restores their dignity, such as it is. And, for certain, that restoration is incomplete - but it represents the first sacrificial act in the scriptures, and demonstrates what God's authority truly looks like in operation.

Community in the image of God is where dignity is restored. It is where honor is given, undeserved and unrequested. It is where all people are recognized as humans, as those created in God's image, even when that image is so faded and broken and tarnished that it is barely recognizable. We who are God's people are to be about the task of covering shame - not adding to it. Much of what passes for "Christian" rhetoric these days fails this task miserably. Christian community, in my reading, should never be about exposing the shame of others, but about inviting others created in God's image to find the One who can restore them to their inherent glory. It is about becoming truly human, and helping others to do the same.

I remember a session at a Youth Specialties convention a number of years ago where I heard Tony Campolo relate a story that has etched itself into my memory. He was telling of a woman whom he had encountered who was going through one of the most difficult times in her life. While I don't remember the details of her circumstances, I remember clearly the exchange that took place as he told it. Had she thought of turning to the church for help in her troubles? "Church?" was her response. "Why would I go there? I already feel like shit."

Father, please - forgive us for making people feel like shit.

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

Community in the Image of God (p. 4)

In my last post, I suggested that the vocation of the people of Israel was to serve as a reflection of the creational intent of the imago dei. The people, however, abandoned their vocation, instead falling into idolatry and injustice - both an abrogation of the role of steward of God's authority. For the Christian, however, the story of scripture does not end at the exile.

One thing that becomes clear in a careful reading of the Gospels is the way in which Jesus presented himself and his followers as a redefinition of the people of Israel. N.T. Wright says this in his monumental work Jesus and the Victory of God:

Israel was not the chosen people for her own sake, but for the sake of the world. Part of the identity of Jesus and his followers was that they would inherit this biblical vocation: 'You are the salt of the earth, the light of the world." The Sermon on the Mount develops this theme: Jesus' followers were to reflect into the world the love of the creator god, who gives sunshine and rain to Israel and the Gentiles alike. Jesus regarded his followers as, in some sense, the eschatological people promised in the scriptures, through whom, in a manner yet to be explicated, the glory of YHWH would be revealed to the world. (p. 444)

If Jesus and his followers have taken on themselves the vocation of Israel, and if that vocation is to image God to the world as I've suggested, what might that look like? Colossians gives us a picture:

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.

In Christ, then, we have the image restored in its fullness: we have the rule and authority of God, exercised in generosity and empowerment as demonstrated by the cross. And what I think is most interesting is this: the image of God, as revealed in Christ, is not just a reflection of deity. It is also a reflection of humanity perfected. Christ, the perfect imago dei, shows us what it means to be truly human.

What, then, of the church? What does this say of our vocation? Just as Jesus was the one who is truly the image of God, we also are called to bear that image. Christ's work in us is to restore that image; Paul goes on to say as much in Colossians 3, and in a number of other places besides. But we still find ourselves in tension. We bear two images: the image of the first Adam, and the image of the second, who is Christ. The church, then, is a transitional people; we are together being formed into the image of Christ, who is the perfect image of God. Next, we'll unpack what this means from a practical perspective - I think that this understanding of the renewed image has deep implications for how we live life together as followers of Jesus.

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

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

Image

After several days of pondering, I've decided to attempt to answer, in part, my earlier questions. I have come to the conclusion that the process of building community is creative - not creative in the sense of unique and original, but creative in the Genesis sense, creative in the sense of forming something from nothing, of participating with God in structuring the universe to His glory. Perhaps it would be better to think of it as being re-creative, of rebuilding what was damaged in the Fall. God's calling a people for the purposes of blessing the world is an act of creation that reaches back to humanity's original design and stands, then, fundamentally in opposition to isolation caused by sin.

Imago dei represents, at least in part, the capacity and necessity for humans to be in relationship with God and each other. One of the immediate consequences of rebellion in the Genesis narrative was broken relationship with both, symbolized by the immediate need for clothing - the loss of innocence, trust, and intimacy that originally characterized human relationship. Sin is, I believe, fundamentally a warping or twisting of the imago dei such that humanity can no longer enjoy right relationship with God and our neighbor. It seems to me that the rest of scripture can quite comfortably be read in this trajectory. The Law, according to Jesus, was foundationally about right relationship with God and neighbor. However, because of the warping of the imago dei, we are unable to do so. If the gospel is God's response to humanity's sinful condition, the gospel must, then, call God's people back to right relationship with God and neighbor. Salvation is the process of restoring the imago dei in God's people.

So what does this mean for the Christian? Is it merely an exercise in interpretation? I believe that it means that any formulation of the gospel that does not include the call to return to right relationship with God and neighbor is, by definition, incomplete. The gospel is a call to join God's people in a community that is in the process of together re-creating the imago dei in one another through Christ. As such, the practices of commmunity, such as love, forgiveness, giving, serving, worship (see Geoff's post on worship and community), reconciliation, and justice-seeking, are essential to the true preaching of the gospel. It's not just about "getting right with God", but also about living rightly with each other.