The Battle of the Dandified

There was a mood about the air – lingering, subtle. All because the two chaps who’d taken their order of coffees – a long black cold pressed single origin bean from local rooftop pot grown shrubs, the other, a drip filtered expresso with “your best biodiversity fair trade organic beans available (but not the same beans as that guy’s coffee)” – were in this war for attention. The rules were tedious. It was the rule of the inner city dandy, it was the war of the dandified. To look like something yet not to draw the eye too much. Just enough to capture attention for a time and then let the eyes continue on their way. But what complexity when two engage for the same limited resource in the same limited space – an artistically shabby coffee hut on the precipice of a cave-in yet on the edge of modernity’s aesthetic all at once.

The battle was fierce yet nobody could say as much, though all knew as much. The surrounding patrons were intimately involved. Theirs was the battle field. Theirs the attention – the targets, yet not the opponents.

The ornamental soldiers wielded their weapons – one, perfectly styled bed hair, the mixture of belligerence with the pillow and sword-art from the comb. A month-long cultivated ‘week-long’ beard at 3mm growth with even distribution from cheek to mid neck. Australian floral patterned unbuttoned button-up shirt with a shabby singlet which overrides the jeans. Precision torn denim leg bags and cork sandals. Accessorised with a swarthy leather satchel to holster the moleskin and fountain pen. The other – an overall aura of the supercilious poodle with his tight curling locks that spoke volumes as it encompassed the globe of the scalp. To magnify the facial activity was one pair of neutrally powered Perspex glasses functioning only as a symbol of stolid intellectualism. Below a clean shaven chin wrapped a neck bandana which accentuated the poodle-esc aura with its typical canine red colouring. The bandana contrasted in style to the dull matte green suit jacket worn as an abnegation of conventional office-chair chairmen. This sentiment was furthered by a plain black t-shirt holstered in jean shorts rolled slightly above the knees. After a decent journey down the mild foliage of leg hair were a pair of black boots, the mixture of the polished corporate and scuffed hipster with yellow stitching and white lacing.

As they sat at the table speaking to each other in mildly excited tones accompanied by slightly exaggerated laughs and gestures, they elicited the occasional yet consistent glances of new patrons and old. The occasion, a casual catch up over fine individuated coffee. The situation, a deeply subtle battle for the approving eye.

A Summary – Competing Spectacles by T. Reinke – Part 2: The Spectacle

In the last post we ended with the question, “What are we going to give our attention to?” There is an endless array of spectacles to gaze at. This, of course, is a big part of the problem in contemporary society. Social media, video games, media, ads, all mining for the precious resource of your attention in this attention economy. Amongst the menagerie of these attention seeking creatures shines the altogether glorious gospel of Jesus. In part two of his book, Reinke wants to encourage the Christian to gaze at the glory of Jesus, fixing our attention on him when there are forces pulling us toward other objects.

First Reinke notes that we don’t live in a world with mutually exclusive spectacles, where either we can look at one thing or look at another thing. Rather in our wisdom we must decide what to give our focus and attention to (which may differ for us as we figure it out). It may not be an easy decision, black or white, hence we live in an age with ‘competing spectacles.’ (p76) The competition for our focus and attention is between worldly spectacles and the spectacle of God’s glory.

However, giving our attention to spectacles of worldly beauty is not innately evil. It’s not so much that we must never gaze upon the infinite scroll, or enjoy (or not) the aesthetics of modern art, or stop funding the growing tycoon Netflix. For there is most definitely a place for the enjoyment of beauty in life, for leisure and laughs, for the rest of idleness even. But beyond the minor light of enjoyment these give, there is a grander spectacle to see. It is the Glory of Jesus in the Gospel.

In part two Reinke is writing about the need for the Christian to gaze upon Christ through hearing the gospel. In hearing the gospel we see the glory of God. But in doing so we must be aware that there are competing spectacles. Reinke spends time in this section painting a picture of the Glory of Jesus, God, the Gospel and even the Church. It is against these heavenly glories that worldly spectacles are competing.

Hopefully you’re aware this is happening, the battle for your attention. Perhaps you can easily recall ways you’ve been pulled away from focus on the Lord and instead sucked into focusing excessively on things of this world. For those of us who have a desire to fix our eyes above, we still struggle to do so with consistency. So it is that we look to the Lord with much backsliding. Into this battle Reinke wants to offer some practical reflections and applications. 

1) Reinke first of all calls for awareness, self-awareness and sober judgement about the task at hand and our own weakness, writing, “In Christ, we now aim to kill and root out every earthly sinful desire that remains inside our hearts. The world wants to feed those desires with its own spectacles. So I guard my attention not with asceticism but with awareness, caution, fasting, and selective withdrawal based on my own appetites and weaknesses. A sobered sense of my internal susceptibilities to sin must inform my media consumption and self-imposed limits. Until I can say, ‘I am weak’, I will be overconfident in my spectacle intake.” (p89)

2) When it comes to rooting out every evil desire that remains in our heart, Reinke wants us to have high standards, not to throw fuel on our evil passions. Reinke challenges us, asking, “Are we willing to consider that one explicit sex scene can wreck an entire movie, and one explicit episode can wreck an entire television series. Christians are too familiar with the feeling that our culture’s greatest spectacle makers perpetually let us down.”  (p128) They do let us down, but we are often too sympathetic towards their content. Let us raise the bar in our own lives. Don’t be sympathetic towards them. Be holy as God is holy, not worldly like, well, the world. As Reinke insightfully remarks about its standards, “Rating systems are set in place for adults to nurture their juiciest fantasies on screen while attempting to protect their children’s eyes from those same lewd desires.” (p133) This kind of double standard is an indictment upon our culture.

3) They say ‘you are what you eat’, but how about what you watch? Reinke (quoting Piper) makes the point, “The soul’s capacity is adaptable, and it forms itself to the object of its joy. A ‘steady diet of triviality shrinks the soul,’ says theologian John Piper. ‘You get used to it. It starts to seem normal. Silly becomes funny. And funny becomes pleasing. And pleasing becomes soul-satisfaction. And in the end the soul that is made for God has shrunk to fit snugly around triteness.’” (p129) Piper’s comment here is a sabre strike. Have you seen the world around you becoming more and more ‘trite’, more and more disposed to trivial and frivolous memes, 6 second clips, Haiku length posts, and endless ‘action’? I bet you have. I bet you’ve even wondered about it and said to a friend or colleague, “how trite is everyone now day’s aye…?” Yes, we are trite, because all we ever do is consume ‘trite’ media of no substance – we are what we eat. But let us not just look around us. Put the critical eye to your own life. This kind of living is not just taking our attention, but taking our joy with it.  Reinke obverses (as I’m sure is no surprise to you) that, “We are now more media obese than we are physically obese. And we are not happier. We are lonelier. We are more depressed.” (p134) Might we elaborate and say that superficial media gives us only superficial joy. The story of our inner selves is a chilling tale of atrophy and decay. But the story doesn’t have to be this way. To gaze upon the glory of Christ is to be transformed into him, to be conformed to his image. This is a worthy tale to behold. It is a journey of growth as the Christian is transformed by the renewal of their mind. All because of the gospel of Christ applied to our hearts and minds by the Spirit.

4) In light of all the above, there is still no hard and fast rule. Each individual will have to make a call in their own lives as to where they will draw the line when it comes to media consumption. And that means, “…we must learn to show charity to brothers and sisters when we disagree. There are no easy fixes or filters. The decision is not simply adopting everything rated TV-14 or PG-13 and under. Any given cultural spectacle must be weighed for its value. And whatever spectacles are true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, commendable-those are spectacles of substance to be potentially embraced.” (p135) That been said, we don’t just make up our own minds in our own little bubbles. God hasn’t only given you wisdom from the one Spirit. God has given his church wisdom from that same Spirit. Listen to your brothers and sisters around you. Ask them how they have made decisions in their life regarding media consumption. This is especially important when it comes to raising our children. Ask other parents what they’re doing and why they’re doing it. But when it comes to drawing the line on these matters, perhaps the first problem we might think of (if we’re particularly zealous about this topic!) is that the brothers and sisters around us are too liberal with their consumption. This, I believe, is certainly going to be the most likely position for many of us in the West. I don’t think many of us will have an overly conservative stance towards media (that’s just my opinion of course). For those who are more “ascetic” in this regard, they will probably invite ridicule (even correction!). Not just from the world, but from their brothers and sisters of a more liberal persuasion. Reinke gives a helpful corrective to this kind of perspective saying, “Some Christians will withdraw from many cultural spectacles. And can we blame them? Can we chide them for having an awareness of their own hearts? Or can we become Christians of maturity, who don’t mock but admire those who withdraw themselves from the boldest spectacles of culture, and who postpone their senses for a future glory?” (p136) It’s a very challenging question he poses us. Are we able to honour those who truly have their eyes fixed on a future glory, not just trite worldly spectacles? I hope so.

To end the book Reinke gives a final thought. It doesn’t get a big mention, nevertheless I think it carries great weight with it. Reinke says, “In sum, all my concerns are dwarfed by this one: boredom with Christ. In the digital age, monotony with Christ is the chief warning signal to alert us that the spectacles of this world are suffocating our hearts from the supreme spectacle of the universe.” (p143) His observation is astute. Can you think of a sign more damning and dangerous than a Christian’s boredom with the most glorious object our affections could ever be set on? It’s a strong warning, one we must heed and watch for within ourselves. Let the Christian never ceased to marvel at the depth of God as seen in the scriptures. Taste and see that the Lord is good. While the world offers us sugar-coated lollies with artificial flavouring, the Lord beckons us to a rich and glorious feast.

Reinke, Tony. Competing Spectacles: Treasuring Christ in the Media Age. Wheaton: Crossway, 2019.

A Summary – Competing Spectacles by T. Reinke – Part 1: The Age of The Spectacle

We live in the age of the image, the age of entertainment. Or as Tony Reinke would put it in his book, the age of the spectacle. A spectacle “…is something that captures human attention, an instant where our eyes and brains focus and fixate on something projected at.” (p14) Now if the spectacle is about grabbing our focus and attention, what would you imagine a possible consequence to be? It shouldn’t surprise us that because of the sheer abundance of spectacles to endlessly gaze at, we are distracted (perhaps we might rename it the age of distraction). Our attention flits from one object to the next, from one spectacle to the next. This is shaping who we are (negatively). In one sense we are what grabs our attention. In more familiar terms, we are what we eat (with our eyes – see p19)

One especially defining aspect about our society is that the image is everywhere. But more than that, ‘image’ is everything. We are an age, a people, concerned with our image.

To this end we are constantly looking at ourselves in social media (with the occasional glimpse at another – mostly for purposes of comparison). We are continually experiencing and even seeing ourselves play video games. We have this strange simultaneous experience as we game. We are at once playing the game and at once watching ourselves play the game. At the same instance we are glued to the image, and also we are the image. No wonder gaming is such a captivating spectacle.

Then there is television. What can be said about television? Probably not much… But somehow in a book about what we can see with our eyes, TV made the cut. Reinke wants to point out in his book how television put the world – which was so far away – at our disposal at any point in time. We can see so much of the world in an instant. Now we can’t help but be concerned about a globalised society. It’s not just me in my little town with my little garden patch. It’s me in my little town with my little garden patch looking at a great big world out there, which I am now suddenly concerned with a lot more (and a lot more regularly). This is a sizable shift in our experience of the world. Our concern grew (unlike my tomatoes!). No longer just local concerns, but global concerns. Once I was anxious about my garden growing good tomatoes. Now I am anxious about a global catastrophe that might eradicate all tomatoes for all time if Russia doesn’t sign on to some sort of nuclear demilitarisation deal with some other super big and powerful country (like Australia?….), or alliance of countries (Like Australia and New Zealand?…..). Which, do you think, causes more anxiety – my local tomato patch or the fate of mankind? I don’t know but I guess it depends on how good I think my tomatoes are.

With TV (and screens more generally) comes the wonderful advertisement. Certainly advertisements existed long before the TV. But really, did they? Ads on the screen verses ads before the screen is like comparing my mother’s tomatoes to my tomatoes. I am but a worm. And so too ads before screens.

But what I really appreciated in this section on advertisements was how Reinke points out the nature of advertisements. He makes the point that we are all watching the same advertisements. In one sense we are privately watching ads (that’s if we are just looking at our phones or surfing the net alone). In another sense we know that a lot of other people are also watching the same ads in their own privacy. But there is also something to an advertisement which everyone sees publicly. Reinke quotes Alastair Roberts, “Seeing an ad privately is nowhere near as powerfully effective as seeing an ad in the Super Bowl coverage, as in the latter case we know that everyone else has seen the same image and it has registered in the public awareness.” Reinke comments, “The most prominent ads imprint a specific good as universally meaningful to us all. If I buy this marketed thing, I can assume that the whole culture will view me in a certain light.” (p37) I particularly appreciated this point. It makes me more conscious of what is happening when I see an ad. I am able to better safeguard my mind when I am prepared for what is coming and what to look out for. For example, I can ask myself, ‘What does this ad want me to feel? And what does it want me to make my friends think of me?’ Something along those lines. The book prompts this train of thought by educating me about what ads do. They inform/shape the public conscience or the public awareness.

Similarly, television (and media more broadly) is able to change the public conscience because of how widespread it is. Reinke makes this point on page 49ff. He goes on to talk about how terrorists could have killed more people some other way aside from bombing the World Trade Centre. But it wasn’t about killing the most people, it was about creating a spectacle which spread the most fear to the most people. And of course they could do this because television and media informs the public conscience – in this case it is informing us to be afraid, or if we hear the president respond, he is trying to inform us of American power – do not be afraid. Reinke insightfully comments on this point, “Both sides increase their power by grabbing eyes.” (p51) They both spread propaganda (whether for good or ill) on their own sides. But the way they did that is through grabbing attention, it was the attention economy at work.

It’s an important example to demonstrate his point. Reinke is trying to show us what is happening when media is been used in such events, but it also demonstrates what is happening more broadly.

So far Reinke has spent his time painting a picture of the landscape. But an important part of the landscape is the church. It is seeking both to be seen (that is, display the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ to a lost world), and it is seeking to see (the glory of the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ). Reinke makes a great point about the church in the attention market, “This culture-wide attention grab is a challenge to the church in two obvious ways. First, in our attempts to reach the lost we compete with the fragmented spectacles that drain life of its sober attention and focus. Second, we lose the ability to disconnect from culture in order to flourish in communion with God. Prayer requires a divine centred attention.” (p66) He continues, “Prayerlessness may be the fault of my media. It is certainly the fault of my heart. In the little cracks of time in my day, with my limited attention, I am more apt to check or feed social media than I am to pray. Because of my negligence, God grows increasingly distant from my life.” (p67)

There is a certain kind of observational wisdom in this book. Reinke lays before us the scene, and it speaks for itself. It calls us to be wise, wise with our attention. Our economy is fuelled by the consumption of our eyes. Reinke is asking us, what are we going to give our attention to?

Reinke, Tony. Competing Spectacles: Treasuring Christ in the Media Age. Wheaton: Crossway, 2019.

Comparing our Sufferings

When we go through suffering we often compare our suffering to someone else’s. We do this for a few reasons I think. Sometimes we are just trying to be polite as we confront someone who has suffered what we perceive as ‘more’. Sometimes we think it can help us get a perspective on our suffering by comparing it to others. Sometimes it’s a matter of pride, other times it’s a matter of self-pity.

Generally speaking, in the instances I mentioned above, this practice has been used as a kind of coping mechanism. We compare to cope. With a little bit of self-awareness I think we could all acknowledge that this is what we do – again, generally speaking. Having been reminded recently of our tendency to do this I thought I would revisit a quote by Paul Grimmond in his book, Suffering Well. For the Christian, we tend to compare ourselves to those who are suffering physical persecution overseas. This happens quite a lot in my experience. But listen to what Grimmond says here,

 “It is right for us to stand beside those who suffer greatly for Christ in other countries. But we do not serve each other when we say we don’t suffer, because it reinforces the idea that suffering for Christ is always about physical persecution. As a result, we fail to teach each other to live without shame in the face of the more subtle pressures in our culture. Secondly, because Western culture has become obsessed with general suffering, we find ourselves spending much of our time defending how God can allow cancer and natural disasters. We spend much less time teaching each other from the Bible that God calls on us to live such godly lives for Jesus that people will dislike or even hate us for it.” P.98

Grimmond is building his argument off a bible passage from Mark 8, pointing out the relation between Jesus’ call to “cross-bearing” and being “ashamed” of Jesus. Here is what he says:

“Even in the greatest of all discipleship calls – Jesus’ call to take up our cross – the emphasis is not on physical hardship but on the danger of being ashamed: ‘And calling the crowd to him with his disciples, he said to them, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save it. For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul? For what can a man give in return for his soul? For whoever is ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him will the Son of Man also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”’ (Mark 8:34–38).” p.95

With all this in mind we would do well to remember that our sufferings can be a means of encouragement to others. Not the kind of encouragement that says, “cheer up, things aren’t so bad when you think about…(insert comparison).”  Instead of minimizing (by comparison) our suffering, let us embrace our suffering with full acknowledgement of the Lord Jesus’ lordship over our lives, as our moments of trials and tribulations are opportunities to stand for Him firmly in the gospel. In our sufferings we have the opportunity – perhaps we might even say the platform – to speak the gospel into the lives of those who are watching us, whether Christian or otherwise. We would do well to speak the gospel in our suffering. In fact, if we were after a comparison, we would do better speaking the gospel in suffering, then comparing suffering to suffering.

Grimmond, P. (2011) Suffering well: the predictable surprise of Chrsitian suffering. Kingsford, N.S.W.: Matthias Media.

The Invisible Man – What we would do…

Recently I listened to the book by H.G Wells, “The Invisible Man.” Imagine yourself in this fellow’s shoes. That’s obviously what we all instinctively do. And what is it that we think we would get up to as one who is invisible?

Perhaps we think ourselves better than he. For in the end he murdered and stole and terrorised. Sure he started well-intentioned, seeking progress for progress sake as it were. But at some point he gets derailed. We could say that it wasn’t his fault and instead look upon his circumstances and everyone that pushed him and broke him. But that’s not good enough, and I don’t think it would do this book justice.

When I think about this story, when I instinctively put myself in the shoes of the invisible man (not that he wore shoes!), of course I realise I’m not at all very different.

My first thought is how much mischief I would be able to cause if I were invisible. I daresay that would be your first thought too, or amongst your thoughts at any rate. I must confess I’m not naturally inclined to think of all the good things I might do – such as become some sort of military spy on espionage missions saving captives, or fighting crime on the streets like some sort of vigil auntie always watching from her window through the curtains.

This brings me to my point, and what I see is one of the points of Well’s book ‘The Invisible Man’ (even if it was unintentional). Given the right motive and opportunity we would all act as the invisible man acted in his circumstances. Our natures are such that we have an inbuilt propensity to wreak havoc. Whether we think we’re justified in our actions or not is beside the point.

Reading (or listening) to a book like this is just another reminder of this fact. But it reminds me to cast myself upon the mercy and grace of God again and again. There are lessons to be learnt even from such books which seem like mere thought experiments. None of us will be turning invisible any time soon. But all of us have that invisible side to us.

Moral transformation – “I worked harder than all of them”

Of late we have spent some time pondering the relative involvement of ourselves in the process of sanctification. Hopefully we saw that our sanctification is the work of God first and foremost. But are we then somehow not involved in the changing of ourselves? To say this would also be an error. We are the object being changed (passive) but also we are an active agent in that change. 

This is our instinctive understanding of the subject. When we change for the better we often attribute that change to ourselves. In our last post on the subject of moral transformation, we were trying hard to show how God is the one who is working in us.  That was the emphasis and the starting ground from the first post on the subject. Why? Because we often start with ourselves.

But in this post I want to think about the other side of the coin. It is not to say we are not involved in the process of positive moral transformation. As we have just said, we often take responsibility for our own moral transformation. And so we should. But because of the self-serving bias which is baked into us, we often attribute positive moral transformation with ourselves, and attribute our own moral failings to circumstance (that which is outside of ourselves). An interesting double standard.

When it comes to our moral failures Tim Chester reminds us, “Our struggles and temptations often trigger sin, but they never cause it.” (p.74) That is to say that we are not merely defeated by sin as if overcome by it. Rather we are disobedient. We are actively involved and responsible for our actions in inaction. No one but ourselves can take responsibility for our sins. “It made us do it”, is more accurately, “it helped me do it.”

With that in mind, it is equally our responsibility to seek holiness as God is holy. And as we continually seek holiness it becomes our habit. Put another way, we are morally transformed. God is at work, totally. Yet we are at work. We see both in Scripture.

When it comes to positive moral transformation, I was particularly struck by Galatians 6:7-8,

“Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows. Whoever sows to please their flesh, from the flesh will reap destruction; whoever sows to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life.”

Chester says in reflection of this verse, “There is, says Paul, a principal in the world God has made: a man reaps what he sows. It’s true in agriculture and it’s true in our spiritual lives.” (p.145 – 146)

I find this particularly encouraging – which, of course, is exactly what the Lord is doing in this verse. He is calling us not to be deceived – we reap what we sow. God is calling us to action. God is calling us to reap a harvest of spiritual transformation which glorifies God. So, hear these words and put them into action in your life – so that you can say with Paul,

“But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to me was not without effect. No, I worked harder than all of them—yet not I, but the grace of God that was with me.” (1 Cor. 15:10)

Chester, Tim. You Can Change: God’s Transforming Power for Our Sinful Behaviour & Negative Emotions. Nottingham: Inter-Varsity Press, 2008.

Dependence in Moral Tranformation

We all want to change for the better, and who better to do that job than ourselves. But are we as adept at self-improvement as we think? Of course not. Our problem with changing ourselves is the problem of ourselves. Perhaps the solution is that we need to somehow change the part of us that stops us from changing. All of this highlights the problem doesn’t it? We think we have the tools to make the necessary adjustments but there is a certain kind of difficulty to performing open-heart surgery on yourself, especially if you’re already dead.

When it comes to the transformation of our lives we need to fix our eyes beyond ourselves and move our minds on from the idea that we can fix ourselves. We are not independent self-starters but utterly dependent creatures. Yet when it comes to moral transformation this never seems to occur to us. When it comes to fixing something we’ve got to use the right tools in the right order. Certainly not the wrong tools, and not even the right tools in the wrong order.

Tim Chester puts it this way, “If you’re frustrated at your inability to change, then your first step is to give up – to give up on yourself. Repent of your self-reliance and self-confidence. Your second step is to rejoice in God’s grace: his grace to forgive and his grace to transform.” p.129

That’s to say that we can’t start with ourselves. Rather, we must start with the gospel. How often do we try and do the job relying on our own steam only to find our resources are woefully inadequate. Chester puts it like so, “…Change takes place in our lives as we turn to ‘see’ the glory of God in Jesus. We ‘see’ the glory of Christ as we ‘hear’ the gospel of Christ. Moral effort, fear of judgement and sets of rules can’t bring lasting change. But amazing things happen when we ‘turn to the Lord.’” p.23

This is possibly one of the most counterintuitive ideas when it comes to moral transformation. After all, we think we’re the ones doing the changing. But who is changing what? If we think we’re changing ourselves then we are confronted with the problem that we often don’t change ourselves. Or if we do, it’s often not to the degree with which we hoped (or even in the way we hoped!). We’re not the ones doing the changing. Rather, we are the ones being changed first and foremost. To pick up a metaphor we used earlier, the gospel is the right tool and it’s the tool that we need to use first.

Yet the gospel is not necessarily something that we ‘use’. The work of the gospel is applied to our lives as we simply believe it. Now again we come up against this grating feeling within ourselves. And that feeling is our discomfort with being dependent, totally dependent on God. At least that’s how I feel. I probably feel that way for a variety of reasons, all of which are terrible; I’ve got pride, I want to be responsible for the good in my life, battling my sense of inadequacy, dependence seems like weakness… The list can go on. As you can see, all of that is at work in my heart as I seek to be dependent on God when it comes to moral transformation. But over time through prayer and repentance the Lord changes me to realize my dependence on him.

Another way in which we are dependent is that we don’t exist in a vacuum. Each member of Christ is part of Christ’s body, the church. And whether we like it or not, the church is an integral part to our growth and our change. I bet that we cringe at the idea. No doubt. But I’d say that is the case because we often think the problem is everyone else and not ourselves! How amazing we are! I tell you that we need the church. We need each other. Indeed we are dependent on each other because we are blind to our own sin. Just as I look out at my brothers and sisters and see their faults, I often don’t think very long on the fact that they see very clearly mine. And so it is that through the church calling me to repent and change (either generally or in regards to specifics), I am moved by the Spirit to do so. This is because God has given the church as a means for the church to change. Chester puts it like this, “The Christian community is the best context for change because it’s the context God has given. The church is a better place for change than a therapy group, the counsellor’s office or a retreat center. We grasp the love of Christ ‘together with all the saints’ (Eph 3:18). Christ gives gifts to the church so that we can grow together (Eph 4:7-13).” p.167

The Lord has equipped the church with the gospel, with his Spirit and with each other. These are the means by which the Lord works and the order in which he works. We would all do well to take ourselves from the front of that equation and instead to be dependent on God and each other. An uncomfortable idea. But given time, perhaps we would be convinced of its goodness as we see the fruit that this produces.

Chester, T. (2008) You can change: God’s transforming power for our sinful behaviour & negative emotions. Nottingham: Inter-Varsity Press.

The Underwhelming Underworld

The ‘darkness within’ is a trope of popular movies and stories. There is a certain kind of relatability we have with the modern villains. But when it comes to the ‘underworld’ (that includes angels and demons, the devil, death and the spiritual realms), it’s out there in the darkness at the edge of society, certainly far from the center of our being.

The popular portrayal of these realms is one of fantastic horror and unbelievable fantasy. That means that the Christian’s understanding of such realities will very much be shaped by the popular and dramatic storytelling taking place through the media. And we should all know by now that such popular storytelling is often egregiously in error (albeit in an entertaining way).

Could it be that the underworld is more mundane than we are led to believe?

In a sense, yes.

You see, the influence of the underworld (whether the devil, demons, or otherwise) holds power only insofar as it uses the resources we provide them with. What might that valuable commodity be? It is the sin that lurks within. Sin is the currency of the underworld. Peter Bolt in his book Living with the Underworld puts it this way, “The underworld can only do what it does because it exploits the weaknesses that exist in the rest of us.” p31.

It seems a brazen move to say that the ‘supernatural’ is actually rather natural. But Bolt makes an important connection we should not miss. He highlights Jesus’ words to Peter in Matt. 16:23. Peter is trying to derail Jesus’ death and Jesus bursts out with, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are not setting your mind on the things of God, but on the things a man.” Here Bolt paraphrases Jesus to make his point, “[Peter], you aren’t thinking like God; you are thinking like a human being.” P 73. Which is to say that the devil’s ways are our natural “human” ways of operation. Bolt goes on, “To think in a typically human way is to be on the side of Satan rather than God… Peter is thinking like a human being. The whole world lies in the power of the evil one. All the kingdoms and all their glory are his. By the time we come to any moment of decision, we are already ensnared in the devil’s ways, because the world that we call home is so deeply enthralled that to think like a human being is to think exactly how the devil wants us to think. We are held captive by him to do his will.” p74

It’s quite damning to consider that our everyday mundane existence can be so leveraged by the underworld because we carry within us all the mark of sin – its effects, its debt, its pull. That is because the world of the underworld is so linked to our everyday world. But we must also remember that the death of Christ on our behalf has freed us from sin and thus from any leverage it might afford the devil against us. But do not miss this point. It means that the Lord Jesus has changed our entire world, our existence and relation to it, but specifically our world’s relation to the underworld. This idea is at once a condemnation of everything we would consider “ordinary”, yet shows us how cosmic and all-encompassing Jesus’ death and victory is.

We relate to the underworld as vicarious victors. Although that is not to say that the war is not still going. It’s more like our victory has begun but it’s being worked out in time, until the apex of Judgement Day.

So how can we relate to the underworld as vicarious victors in the meantime? Bolt reminds us, “Christians are never called upon to directly engage with the devil and his forces. There is no exhortation in the New Testament for anyone to perform exorcisms. In fact, the only passage that speaks of ‘spiritual warfare’ directly – Ephesians 6:10-20 – doesn’t mention anything remotely like exorcism. What it mentions is what you might call the ‘ordinary’ things of the Christian life: faith, salvation, gospel preaching and prayer.” p140.

In one sense you might think that this is ‘too ordinary’. But Christian, nothing could be more extra-ordinary than a life of victory in Christ lived out through faith and prayer.

Bolt, P. (2007) Living with the underworld. Kingsford, N.S.W., Australia: Matthias Media.

On Attraction

Recently I’ve been reading a very helpful book called, ‘Confronting Christianity: 12 Hard Questions for the World’s Largest Religion’ by Rebecca McLaughlin. It was published relatively recently – in 2019 – and it features a wonderful combination of McLaughlin’s sharp wit and a plethora of footnoted stats and research. Definitely worth a read if you would like a fresh angle on addressing the hottest questions of our time.  

Something I would like to express – both in light of this work and another that I recently read (‘The gospel comes with a house key’, by Rosaria Butterfield) – is my thankfulness for the work of Christians who experience same-sex attraction in writing on this subject. It is wonderful to hear in their own words that knowing Christ is so much better than pursuing one’s own desires. That our Lord rescued them. Things that I know myself in other ways. 

I wanted to reflect more on attraction in this post. In her chapter on homosexuality, McLaughlin quoted some interesting research by Lisa Diamond which indicated that bisexuality is quite common (see McLaughlin p.168). Namely, many people who may identify themselves as being predominantly oriented towards the same or opposite sex will also report at times experiencing attraction to the other sex. While obviously many are predominantly same or opposite-sex attracted, her point was that this is often not exclusively so. 

The reason why I mention this is because it highlights our agency. Namely, just because one may feel an attraction, does not mean that one must then identify with and actively pursue that way of life. McLaughlin offers her own story as a woman primarily attracted to other women, and yet happily married to a man. For her as a Christian, this then means that sexual temptation will usually come from the direction of other women. I am grateful for her story, because I resonate with her that as a Christian, all forms of temptations to sin do come, but the calling for all of us who follow Christ is the same: we are called to holiness. We are called to deny our selves and follow Christ with our mind and actions – regardless of whatever attractions we experience.

As I think about my own life, I’m currently happily married to a Christian man who is shorter than me. However, for the most part, attractions have come from men who are slightly taller than me, and there have also been occasions where I mentally acknowledged budding attraction to particular women. What does a Christian do with such feelings? As I reflect upon this, I think about a quote from Martin Luther – to the extent that you can’t stop the birds from flying over your head, but you can stop them from making a nest in your hair. That is, thoughts and feelings will come, but we can control what we set our minds on and pursue.

So what do I do? I do several things.

Firstly, I acknowledge the desires for what they are: enticements to sin (see James 1:14-15). In God’s eyes, sexual intimacy is to be only expressed between one man and one woman within the exclusive bond of marriage. And as a married woman, my desires should be directed exclusively towards my husband. Holiness when single involved being chaste. Holiness when married involves being faithful to my spouse. This is good. And I particularly appreciate McLaughlin’s point that these boundaries do not necessitate loneliness for Christians attracted otherwise, because the local Christian community is to be a family – where deep friendships can be formed (see McLaughlin p.160-161). This really should not be underestimated. As McLaughlin comments, ‘In modern society we are led to believe we cannot live without sex. In fact, I believe we are more likely to wither without friend and family love.’ (p.160)

Secondly, I strive to do what Jesus calls me to do, and flee temptation. When speaking of lust, Jesus said, ‘if your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away!’ (Matthew 5:29) He is speaking hyperbolically, but the point is to cut off the source of temptation – for dwelling on and entertaining such thoughts in one’s heart leads to sin, and if persevered with unrepentedly, hell. (Note: This does not mean shunning or avoiding particular brothers or sisters in Christ if I am regularly in fellowship with them, but it does mean guarding my heart and being careful to not put myself in potentially compromising situations.)

Thirdly, Paul writes in multiple places about setting our minds on good things (eg, Philippians 4:8, Colossians 3:2). And so, I strive to re-focus my thoughts on what is good. When I was single, I would pray and give my desires to God (and then persevere in doing this when they came back). When married, I still pray, but I now re-focus my thoughts on my husband, where they are meant to be. This is something to be persevered with and cultivated.

As I think about all this, it occurs to me that the life Christ calls us to is very counter-cultural. 

Our culture says to ‘follow your heart’ (thanks, Disney). Yet as a Christian I know that, ‘the heart is deceitful above all things’ (Jeremiah 17:9). 

Our culture says to ‘express yourself.’ Jesus says, ‘deny yourself and follow me’ (Mark 8:34, my paraphrase).

Yet knowing Jesus is worth it, a thousand times over. He rescues us from the darkness of blindly pursuing our own desires, and following him brings light to our path and life to our soul. 

References:

McLaughlin, Rebecca. Confronting Christianity: 12 Hard Questions for the World’s Largest Religion. Wheaton: Crossway, 2019.

Bill Bryson’s “Body”, and God.

In Bill Bryson’s book “The Body”, you will find a truly remarkable account of the biological makeup of the human frame. There is a lot of detail about all its intricacies, as well as an account of the historic investigations that led to many of the discoveries in human biology. How Bill Bryson and his team managed to write on such a topic while doing it justice is quite astounding. It certainly helps that it’s a very fun read as well.

But I’m particularly interested in thinking about Bill Bryson’s book and what it does and does not say about God.

The body is both an unbelievably complex organism (of which humans cannot even create one of the most basic principle parts – the cell), as well as a dishearteningly fragile specimen which is susceptible to illness and ultimately death. These two aspects of the human body warrant theological consideration. To ponder them from merely a scientific perspective would not do justice to the kind of consideration that the body beckons in its complexity and its fragility.

So how does Bill Bryson talk about those two aspects?

When it comes to the complexity of the body, Bryson will always talk in high regard about the amazing fact that evolution somehow produced a conscious, functioning, world-changing creature such as the human without even trying. The explanation which is essentially unguided chance is an underwhelming account when Bryson is painting a picture of just how marvelous the human body is. The terminus of ones praises is in a mere theoretical principle, evolution. So what will continually happen is that we personify evolution, like it’s got some sort of grand plan, or has an intention, or volition. But it doesn’t, and we (kinda) know that. Which in itself undercuts our praises of it (and also makes us look silly in the process because, well, we are the ones praising it…). Evolution may very well be part of the story, but its not even the best part of the story. It might be a ‘how’, but it’s not even close to a ‘why’. It’s like me writing a blog post about the amazingness of Tolkein’s pen and missing the mind that guided the hand.

On the other side, Bryson will talk occasionally about people claiming the existence of the eye or what-have-you is evidence of intelligent design. He then goes on to propose that some other organ is more so worthy of delivering such a killer verdict (I forget what he cited at this point – forgive me, the book is large). But at the same time he says that any intelligent designer would be deranged to conclude that childbirth the way it happens for humans is a good idea given all the crazy processes needed to deliver a baby safely (albeit it is simultaneously a miracle, etc., etc. no contradiction here…). All that to say that if we were God we would do it differently. (By the way, why aren’t we God?)

All in all, the book (at least theologically and philosophically speaking) is a bit of a hodgepodge, but it’s not about delivering a robust explanation regarding anthropology from a theological or philosophical perspective. It is a biological and scientific exploration of the human body. So it shouldn’t surprise us that when theological and philosophical comments are made, they are done so in a rather “ordinary” fashion.

Given all that, I think it is well worth the read because it is such a fantastic biological and scientific exploration of the human body – the very purpose of the book! As Christians, we still have a lot to appreciate about this book. Read it knowing that the Lord our God has created us and that he has done so in such a magnificent way. The book will hopefully give you a greater sense of the grandeur of God. That’s certainly what it did for me.

Yet when it comes to the topic of death, decay, sickness and mortality, it is again a mixed bag. These topics aren’t light and breezy by any means and Bryson does a good job of acknowledging just how profound suffering is at certain times in the book. However, they ought to be pondered very, very thoroughly and deeply. I think it would have been an opportunity for Bryson to acknowledge his area of expertise and the scope of the book and point readers elsewhere for answers on these issues. I felt that he treated them rather quaintly overall. And in typical western fashion, when discussing the topic of death at the very end, he just kinda throws his hands up in the air and says “Oh well, life is a nice ride isn’t it …?” And you just gotta think to yourself, “But we are dealing with the topic of death here in stark contrast to the living specimen of the magnificent human body. Death is really bad. One can’t just sweep it under the rug or minimise it.” Not that he always minimises it, but he tries to play both cards at the same time. Which is typical. “Death is really bad [therefore, coping mechanism] but that’s just life aye?”

At this point, the Christian is most thoroughly equipped with the gospel. Death is always destructive and invasive no matter when (even in the seemingly “natural” end of our lives, in the so-called “season of death”). We live in the shadow of death. Mortality will not leave us alone. Don’t let Bryson fool you by minimising it. Instead, as you finish the book, take a moment to remember the gospel. The Lord Jesus conquers death in his human body for our sake, that he would redeem our bodies. We are more than just our bodies, but we are indeed embodied. The Lord Jesus in his incarnation has come to redeem our bodies, and in the end, bring them to glory.

Bear that in mind as you read this wonderful book.  

Bryson, Bill. The Body: A Guide for Occupants, 2019.