What must I do to be saved?

A friend of mine once said that the quintessential problem of the church today is faulty understanding of Law and Gospel. At the time, I condescendingly dismissed such a thing (which I regret doing to a friend). Fast forward to the past five weeks, and I have been buried in articles and commentaries on the book of Galatians desperately trying to understand what Paul meant by “The Law”, and I hold to my position of understanding these concepts. They are not the quintessential problem of the Western church.

Do not jump to any conclusions just yet about what I am saying. I still strive to understand exactly what Paul meant by the Law, but there seems to be few ideas circulating that harmonize the paradoxical nature with which Paul speaks about the law. 

Now, I have come to some convictions that have brought me a great deal of peace and understanding about this subject. These few things however have helped me to realize that with the exception of a few  clear truths, almost everything I held with staunch absolution has been shown to be either erroneous or an over simplification that misses the point altogether. Maybe I’ll take some time to write out those conclusions, but that’s not the point of this post.

My question is whether or not one must understand these ideas of seaming abstraction in order to be, a word we toss around with little thought, “Saved”. Must one understand cognitively the imputation of Christ’s righteousness through his atoning death on a cross? Must one understand the narrative of the Jewish people in the Old Testament in order to come to a “saving knowledge” of the Gospel truth?

I’ll give you two examples of why I ask this question: On the news two weeks ago, a story was done about a onetime homeless woman who now drives around on a scooter handing out hats and gloves to people on the street in Lancaster city for free. When asked about this, the toothless woman with the blind eye said, “God has been so good to me, and I just wanted to let other people know how good he is.”

Story two: Every once in a while I catch wind of things that trendily get said in conservative Evangelical circles. These are usually the same people who mock terms like “Missional” for being trendy, yet do not realize how mindlessly they’re feeding on the propagated trends of Christian radio.  So something I’ve heard a few times is that “ours is an intellectual faith.” I think this is wrought by all kinds of elitism and classifications which exalt the few over the many, and causes us (especially those in leadership) to look suspiciously at the people in the pews. 

Mind you, I am one who loves academia. As I compare the two however (and I will place myself in the second narrative), I sense that the woman, without a mention of substitutionary atonement, without a mention of Christ’s imputation of righteousness being applied to her sinful account through faith, I must conclude that this was a woman who loved God and simply put: Got it. I get the impression that she knows more about Jesus and is known more by him than myself, and any other intellectual elitist who places such burdens on people to ascend to God in knowledge and keep people out of the vast Kingdom that belongs to Christ the Lord. 

I am not proclaiming a Christ-less Gospel. Based upon many hours of study and arduous research, I have found the easy answer to the question I have posed above to be severely lacking. In fact, it has been built upon the wrong questions which we have been taught to ask of our bibles. 

Personally, I always felt the need to question my own conversion story because it did not consist of the typical packaging of a divine revelation or understanding of Christ’s death and resurrection. It was a prophetic word being spoken into a crucial moment of my life. I did not understand what I know now, but what I now understand is that I was known by God and his Son long before I understood how.  I think it is quite possible that people are Christians without being able to articulate in a fashion that suites our ears that itch for certain words or concepts.

It's like asking when Peter became a Christian. Was it when he professed Jesus to be the Christ (and then immediately rebukes Jesus for saying he must suffer)? Was it when he called on Jesus to "save him" while walking on the water? Was it when Jesus gave them the Holy Spirit in the upper room? That's the wrong question. If the entire narrative of the Gospel leads to the death of the Messiah as the means through which people receive salvation, than how could Peter be a Christian before the death and resurrection of Christ?

Answer: IT'S THE WRONG QUESTION! It focus' on the salvation of the individual, a nice little remnant of a guilt ridden Monk consumed with how to escape the fiery torments of hell (please excuse the caricature, Luther remains a personal favorite).

It's like the Grinch discovering that Christmas wasn't about the gifts, it was about "something more." Perhaps the crucifixion and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ means just a bit more than our location when we leave this world.

Perhaps I should devote some time articulating how so. For now, I sleep.

A Symphony of Silence

I was perusing ITunes for some new music to download. When I find something that I like, I listen to it over and over again absorbing the depth and intention of each note, of each chord, of each lyric which communicates and coveys something I could not do with words of my own. For more than three years, I have been trying to track down a symphony that was recommended to me by my Philosophy professor at LBC. At the time, he described it as “A symphony of sad songs.” I would Google this and came up with little that fit this description. Tonight, I think I may have found it. It is entitles “Symphony of Sorrowful Songs” by Henryk Gorecky. You can read about it here. 

I was told to listen to this as I reflected on the crucifixion during Good Friday. The Symphony takes on a new meaning tonight as I listen to it. Being that its composition was inspired by the holocaust, I listened with this as the backdrop for understanding. Something hauntingly struck me as I clicked the play button on my IPod. The first several minutes are silence. Nothing but utter silence. 

Some have suggested that the silence indicates the silence of the nations during the Holocaust. I am not convinced by this. As I thought about the atrocity of the Holocaust my mind wandered to the atrocity of genocide. It did this because not too long ago Amanda and I witnessed the remnants of a genocide that took place in Cambodia. Suddenly I remembered a similar silence that fell over me while there. I remember the silence that filled the rooms of the S-21 school in Phnom Penh. I remember the blood splattered floors and walls that spoke too much for anything other than silence to capture their meaning. I remember the hallways lined with pictures of men, women, and children who were interrogated, tortured, and executed, their voices being forever silenced. I remember the killing fields where just beneath our feet contained those whose right to exist was taken from them. Standing in these fields, in my memory, I am haunted by silence. I am haunted by the silence of voices that will never again be heard, never again echo a medical contribution, a sonnet of joy or lament, an expression of love or gratitude. I hear the echoes of a song unsung, of a symphony that will never be written nor performed nor heard.  

In moments like these I catch the fragrance of something great; that for the first time in my life I see the value of a person. I see just how much God must love us. Though I am known by God, I am far from him. If I, who as his wayward son only resemble him slightly, feel the deep pangs of grief that must burden his heart, I know that it is impossible to feel the sense of loss I do now without understanding what has been lost. 

My God, oh my Father, what have we done? My God, oh my Father, what are we doing?

Everyone Needs a Safe Place: Why I Chose Biblical Seminary

Everybody needs a safe place. While I was attending Lancaster Bible College, that place came in the form of a man named Glenn Hennon. In his office, I was safe to articulate my greatest fears, anxieties, and doubts without the concern of judgment or rejection. My safe place became my wife when we were married in January of 2008. Though it took some hard work on both our parts, we’ve come to a place where we can communicate things; even some difficult things about each other, without being so hurt that we punish each other with hurtful words. Amanda is a safe place of love, encouragement, and acceptance for me.

I think that it’s important to have a safe place to do theology as well. For this reason, I chose Biblical Theological Seminary. I’ll begin my story with a personal encounter I had with a BTS alumnus. This man taught a class my senior year of Lancaster Bible College called “Church in the emerging culture”. Many people in that class, myself included, exhausted a lot of energy seeking to do battle with this professor in order to confirm that his understanding of the material he was covering was bupkis. There was something unique about this man however, something that intrigued me, drew me in, yet also caused my defenses to go up in full force.

Rather than getting caught up in demonstrating to us just how intelligent he was (which was the game we were playing with him), he challenged us as siblings in Christ to communicate to one another with respect. I was probably his greatest opponent. Rather than quitting the class like many others did, I stayed to do battle with this man, which was one of my favorite past times. I can remember even at one point proof texting my way through some of my classmate’s interactions with him and concluding my statement with “that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

This man said to me after class “Ryan, I bet you have an interesting story. I’d like to hear it. Next week before class could I take you out to Starbucks?” That’s exactly what we did, followed by many times after class going to “Five Guys Burgers and Fries.”

This man listened and cared. It turns out he had one of the sharpest intellects of anyone I know. I saw that his compassion was uniquely tied to his convictions produced by his theology. For this reason, I conclude now that his theology was far superior to my own. The fruit of my theology was like the witches apple in “Sleeping Beauty.” It was polished, but it was poison.

I could say a lot about the history of doing theology in the combative fashion that I did, but I’ve wasted enough ink in my other posts on that subject, and will continue to do so in the future. I’ll simply state that it was the compassion, the Christ-likeness of this individual that caused me to check out Biblical Seminary.

This was a big deal for me. Initially, I had wanted to attend Dallas Theological Seminary, and later had my eye on Westminster. It was a personal gamble in my mind, but there is no doubt now that I made the right decision. Here’s why:

When I came to Biblical, what I found in my professors was a humility unlike anything else I had experienced in my academic life as a Christian (though I had desperately longed for it). Many of these professors taught at the schools which I had long admired (though they are opposite ends of Evangelicalism – which was even more appealing to me). Many of them, through being people with integrity, could not stay in those schools because of the convictions they were wrestling with. Many of them have complicated stories, but what seems to be a common thread is that these professors were uncomfortable with a theological construct whereby if one tenant is to fall or be challenged, the entire structure falls with it.

I am familiar with this type of theology. Challenge something at one point and you’re likely to hear, “if he cannot be trusted with this point of doctrine, he cannot be trusted with any point of doctrine.” 

Biblical Seminary is a place where these professors, all across the spectrum of Evangelicalism, find comradely and fellowship in their task. It is a safe place where the truths of historic Christianity are affirmed and the differences are vigorously but graciously explored. It is a place where I am learning that the purpose of a theological education is not to equip people with quarrelsome ammunition but rather to learn to manifest and convey the love of God.

I have always loved the classroom and academia. The way in which Biblical Seminary has shown me to do theology, my studies have become for me an act of worship as well as communion with my brothers and sisters in Christ. Biblical Theological Seminary is my safe place, and the bond of peace that should unite Christians, I feel, is greatly at work in this school.  

Child Advocacy

I feel like one of the luckiest people in the world, getting to do what I do for a living. It mimics my personality in so many ways. One moment I can be elated with joy, the next deflated by grief. Yet, I am never crushed, never without hope, I am never powerless, never defeated. 

I love my job because I know that nothing is needed more than an advocate. In my faith, I believe that that there is one who advocates on my behalf to God my Father. 

An advocate is one who gives a voice to someone who’s had their voice taken from them. Therefore, advocacy for a child is something that leaves and indelible mark on me every day. To be a part of the restorative process in a child’s life gives me the greatest sense of purpose. I felt the need as I came home today to state this word of thanks, praise, and adoration to God my Father who would take all of my  brokenness and do something redemptive with it.

We do not labor nor suffer nor endure anything in vain. 

This poem was in a portion of the literature we provide people at our agency, as well as two other poems that I have appreciated over the years, written from the perspective of a child in need of an advocate.

Children Learn What They Live
By Dorothy Law Nolte, Ph.D.

If children live with criticism, they learn to condemn.
If children live with hostility, they learn to fight.
If children live with fear, they learn to be apprehensive.
If children live with pity, they learn to feel sorry for themselves.
If children live with ridicule, they learn to feel shy.
If children live with jealousy, they learn to feel envy.
If children live with shame, they learn to feel guilty.
If children live with encouragement, they learn confidence.
If children live with tolerance, they learn patience.
If children live with praise, they learn appreciation.
If children live with acceptance, they learn to love.
If children live with approval, they learn to like themselves.
If children live with recognition, they learn it is good to have a goal.
If children live with sharing, they learn generosity.
If children live with honesty, they learn truthfulness.
If children live with fairness, they learn justice.
If children live with kindness and consideration, they learn respect.
If children live with security, they learn to have faith in themselves and in those about them.
If children live with friendliness, they learn the world is a nice place in which to live.

Copyright © 1972 by Dorothy Law Nolte

Render this Child – Anonymous

Render this Child, he is defenseless

Scold him and beat him until he is senseless

Render him stupid, until he is speechless

Render this child, render him helpless

Scold this child, until he is silent

Hate this child, until he is violent

Mold this child, until he will resent

An echo of slander which he can’t lament

He can’t defend against what you have done

He can’t pretend like he’s not your son

Though you have left him to feel forsaken

You’ll never know the life that you’ve taken

You’ll never know of the tears that he’s cried

You’ll never feel how he feels inside

He wanted held by those who had hurt him

Wanted acceptance from those who’d dessert him

Who will cry for the little boy?
By Antwone Fisher
who will cry for the little boy?
Lost and all alone.
Who will cry for the little boy?
Abandoned without his own?
Who will cry for the little boy?
He cried himself to sleep.
Who will cry for the little boy?
He never had for keeps.
Who will cry for the little boy?
He walked the burning sand
Who will cry for the little boy?
The boy inside the man.
Who will cry for the little boy?
Who knows well hurt and pain
Who will cry for the little boy?
He died again and again.
Who will cry for the little boy?
A good boy he tried to be
Who will cry for the little boy?
Who cries inside of me

A personal inventory on my lunch break: Derailing a Nervous Breakdown

My jaw hurts from being clenched, my teeth hurt from being grinded against one another. I have lost my wedding band, forgotten my wallet, forgotten my phone, and have lost a book for my class. My dreams are ghoulish nightmares, yet I feel fine.

I must take these  externally dark and absent minded behaviors  as indicators that something is bothering me. I must do this because I am a McGinnis. We do not volitionally repress our intense emotions, but perhaps it is just the Celtic blood that flows through our veins.

I remember almost six years ago when tragedy struck our family, I was living with my father at the time. Both of us went back to work the very next day. We didn’t speak about it in depth for another two years.

So that I do not implode, I will be honest about what deeply grieves me:

Two years ago yesterday, I lost one of the most important women in my life: My Grandmother

A month from now, a year will have passed that I have lost one my best friends to cancer

Not too long ago, a very important man in my life passed away before I had a chance to reconcile our relationship

Another friend of mine has just begun his battle with cancer. Today he entered surgery.

I will not/cannot run from these things. My heart is heavy and I am weak:

Today… “I will lift my eyes to the healer of the hurt I hold inside.”

My Mind Has Just Been Blown

Being that my class was canceled this Tuesday, my professor made an MP3 that corresponded with the power point for the class. I needed to take a break from listening and taking notes to jot this down and share it with my little audience (reference to quantity not size).

We began our exegetical work on Galatians with the concluding remarks of Paul’s letter. First, we looked at the form of letter writing, not only of Paul’s other works, but also of ancient secular letters to determine some basic rhetoric and structure to Paul’s composition. In essence, in every introduction, as well as conclusion, the purpose of the writing is clearly stated (This is vast over simplification but it will suffice for now).

Something that our professor stated in his lecture was that his purposes were for us to take off our protestant lenses and see Galatians a bit differently.

This is a man who taught at Westminster Seminary, a man very committed to the hermeneutical principals of understanding authorial intent and audience reciprocation. Here is the question and answer that has literally just blown my mind.

“What would we think is missing from Paul’s concluding remarks in Galatians? Well, there is no mention of:

·         Faith

·         Works

·         Abraham

·         Justification

Galatians has served as the quintessential book for understanding Law and Grace (at least it has for me). Something that I have been grappling with (even more so now), is whether or not the reformers were asking questions of the text pertinent to the condition of their own hearts (as do we all). Our understanding of these texts therefore, has been prejudiced by the historical questioning of those who have gone before us. This is of course not to negate in any fashion Justification by Faith or to say that the reformers got it wrong, it is only to suggest that we ought to delve deeper into these texts, and be willing to challenge our presuppositions; a principle that is in fact taught and honored by most Protestants alike.

A Minor Quarrel Over Galatians

I began my reflection with the commentation of Gaventa. To summarize what I believe to be her thesis, a traditional understanding of Galatians which subdivides or rigidly outlines the epistle is inadequate being that it exegetically misses the forest for the trees. Whereas most commentators view portions of the letter as transitional or even unrelated, Gaventa proposes that this leads to an unbalanced focus on unnecessary, irresolvable issues that distract from the important theme of the letter as a whole. Her contention then is that Paul’s rich theological discourses are not divorced from his personal testimony, but rather his personal testimony serves as a validation of his rich theological discourse.

The portion of text that is pertinent to this reflection (Gal. 4:11-20) is a keystone proof text to her argument:

“Some commentators deny that this is an instance of the imitation-of-Paul motif. Paul, they insist, surely does not mean that the Galatians are to imitate him as he imitates them… one reason for their imitation of Paul is that Paul has already rejected his zeal for the Law and the tradition (Gaventa 321).”

Following this train of thought, much of the testimony of Paul suggests that the Galatians are picking up the very same lifestyle that Paul has relinquished when Christ laid claim upon his life.

                I then proceeded with reading Hays’ commentary, in which I looked for points of intersection and points of deviation from Gaventa. For this reason it is difficult to distinguish Hays’ overarching theme being that our reading was limited to his commentary on this passage. Perhaps from my prejudice being created by reading Gaventa first, I approached Hays’ commentary seeing some of the flaws that she challenged her readers to look for.  I praise Hays’ work as being far more insightful into the passages at hand but I begin with some points where the two deviate.

Gaventa states “If we habitually read a text only to learn about matters that exist outside it, then we lose sight of issues within the text that may be of equal importance (312).” I was struck by this quote while reading Hays who states not only in his introduction but also in the body of his commentary:

“This unit is notoriously difficult to interpret. There are three reasons for its difficulty: (1) Paul is emotionally agitated as he writes, and the discussion is somewhat disjointed; (2) he alludes briefly to events well know to the Galatians but unknown to us; (3) he employs rhetorical topoi and conventional expressions that are unfamiliar to us. Taken together, these factors – especially the second – require us to do some guesswork in order to read the passage (293).”

What Hays sees as necessitating guess work, Gaventa sees as either (1) and unnecessary distraction from the over arching message, or (2) Gaventa is providing a more harmonious method of understanding to what Hays calls Paul’s “emotionally agitated… disjointed” writing style. Concerning point three however, Hays and Gaventa are in absolute agreement, and it is on this point that serves as the linchpin for both commentators. Both believe that Paul is using a certain type of rhetoric to communicate his message, and both agree to an extent as to the purpose of that message. Both acknowledge that in a modern context Paul’s discourse (Hays 189) sounds like a self justifying apologetic, and both denounce this as misinterpretation.

In Gaventa’s thesis (as quoted above) and the remaining body of her composition, it does not seem as though she draws the same polarity between the purpose for Paul’s imitation passage as does Hays. For Hays, the imitation passage means “he (Paul) is referring to his own decision to reject the practices of Torah observance and live like a Gentile… For the sake of his mission as apostle to the Gentiles, he ‘tore down’ the barriers between Jew and Gentile (2:18) and adopted, in effect, a Gentile way of life… he ate with Gentiles and took a stand against other Jewish Christians who refused to do so (2:11-14) (Hays 293).”

For Gaventa this is not the intention of Paul’s words. Gaventa sees this statement as being in light of Paul’s personal testimony in chapters one and two. Paul’s narrative as a star of Judaism as well as his persecution of the church gives light not to the fact that Paul became like a Gentile, but rather, the Galatians are becoming what he once was. In so doing, the Galatian church has nullified the Gospel that Paul has preached to them.

I see this as a superior interpretation given that Paul’s intent (which both commentators agree on) is to communicate that the Gospel has torn down the barrier between Jew and Gentile. Paul desires that there be only one table at which Christians gather, not one table of superiority inviting people in, yet excluding them on the basis of distinction, works, rank, or ethnicity.  

In the conclusion of Hays’ section however he demonstrates that he conforms to this view as well, stating:

“…Paul’s self-depiction in the first two chapters of Galatians provides the crucial background to the exhortation of 4:12; Paul has modeled a life set free from the Law, a life willing to sacrifice all claims of racial or ethnic privilege for the truth of a gospel that calls Jews and Gentiles together at one table. That is the example he holds before the Galatians eyes 298).”

A similar application is made by Gaventa:

“What the Galatians can imitate is Paul’s single-minded response to the gospel that was  revealed to him. When he ‘immediately’ returned to Damascus (1:17) he also discarded his zeal for maintaining the Law and the tradition. He died not only to the Law but also to the traditions and customs he had previously served. It is the reversal of those prior commitments that the Galatians are to imitate, although their commitments may be of a quite different sort (cf. 4:1-11). To become as Paul is means to allow Christ to live in oneself (cf. 2:20) to the exclusion of the Law or of any other tradition or category (cf. 3:27-28) (322).”

While there is much that I could extrapolate from these rich passages and both of these commentators concerning application, the most profound application is the claim in which the Gospel of Jesus Christ lays hold upon one’s life. A friend of mine who was in the Marine Corp would often say “that the church needs to be more like the Marines!” When pressed, my friend would explain that in the Marine Corp, one’s identity was replaced with being a Marine. No longer did he refer to himself as I, but as “this Marine.” No longer did anyone operate from “cultural and ethnic boundaries (Hays 298),” but rather all were one, all were Marines. As Goventa concludes:

Galatians 1 - 2 “presents Paul as an example of the gospel’s singular and exclusive power to overthrow human conventions, commitments, and values and to replace those with ‘the faith of Jesus Christ’ (2:16)… This paradigmatic dimension is accomplished by the repetition of the theme of the gospel’s singularity, the in-breaking of revelation, and the insistence on the gospel’s reversal of prior value-systems… (Gaventa 326).”

Paul’s personal testimony demonstrates the extent to which Jesus Christ laid claim upon Paul’s life. In so doing, Paul challenges the Galatian church in this way to imitate him. For “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” – Amen