tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27243854472663188152024-03-13T11:45:50.826-04:00From Virtue to GraceEllie Corrowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01949031622556142056noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2724385447266318815.post-45215718057158635132014-08-19T20:30:00.002-04:002014-08-19T20:30:52.420-04:00The Church and the Single Mom<div class="MsoNormal">
When I was in college a couple of friends were brainstorming
about where I could meet a nice, Christian man, since it was clear to them that
I was single, 25, and committed to my faith. The face of one of them suddenly
lit up as she exclaimed “I’ve got it! You should go to church, I’m sure there
are lots of Christian men there!” She smiled at me, the satisfaction obvious in
her face, and when I told her that I did go to church, every Sunday, she looked
confused. She frowned slightly, and asked with a certain degree of trepidation “They
<i>let</i> you go to church?” See, it’s not
just that I was 25 and single, but I was also a mother. I suspect many Christians would hear this story and laugh,
possibly remarking about how those who aren’t in the church don’t understand
that it’s all about grace, mercy, and forgiveness, so of course a single mom
would be welcome in church. But really, is this the case? Fortunately, it’s
been my experience, across denominations, that I’ve largely been accepted and
treated with respect, but for many women this isn’t the case. I know the
stories, and they’re not mine to tell, but suffice it to say I know of plenty
of women who were forced to confess their sin before the congregation, who have been kicked out of the house when they
could no longer hide the pregnancy, who were forbidden from teaching Sunday
school because they were of “questionable character,” and on it goes. Sure
these are simply anecdotes, so make of them what you will, yet, I find it odd,
given the statistics which seem to indicate the abundance of single parent
homes, that we do not see more single moms in church. Particularly the single
moms of the especially fallen variety—those like myself, who got pregnant
while violating the sixth commandment. Given how unequivocally pro-life many of
us are, I find it bizarre that church isn’t a safe haven for these women and
their children. Really, when women like myself choose not to have an abortion,
and instead elect to raise a child a single parent, where is the church? Apart from the suggestions about the feasibility of adoption, the church seems to have little say to actual single moms who, like any other parent, are doing the best they can with what they have. </div>
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There is a lot of concern about the rise of single-parent
households, and rightly so. Single parenthood is hardly the ideal, and every
single mom I know is well aware of this. Yes, I know there are Hollywood starlets and the like who will proudly proclaim that they can do just fine without a husband, but I think most of us can say we don't live in the Hollywood star's world, and this is no less true for your run of the mill single mother. Whether she would phrase it this way
or not, the law is truly let loose in a single mom’s life—she must work,
usually outside of the home, because the luxury of being a stay-at-home mom is
not afforded to her. She often must enroll her child in public school because
there simply is not enough money for private school, and homeschooling is not
an option. Then she is the only one to make decisions for her child, as there
isn’t another parent as invested in her child, and who espouses the same
values. There are the battles with mental and physical exhaustion when you know
the full burden of parenthood falls solely upon you. I’ve heard a lot of talk
today about the rejection of fatherhood, and often the finger of blame is
pointed squarely at the single mom, either implicitly or explicitly, yet,
ironically enough, no one knows the value of fathers like a single mom, because
we live without them. We have to make do without the security and wisdom a
father affords. And on the back of this day-to-day reality comes the
ever-present battle with guilt. Guilt that you can’t make it to every event at
school because you have to work, guilt that your child has to feel the pain of
living without a father, guilt that perhaps your child will become another
statistic used to trumpet the dangers of single-parenthood. It’s enough to make
a mother wonder if she should just don a scarlet A and buy real estate close to
the nearest federal prison.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ve been told that the solution to single parenthood is
marriage. This may seem easy to someone who isn’t juggling 15 things at once,
but it’s not so simple. In order to marry, one must usually date, in order to
meet and get to know a potential spouse, yet to do this the single mom must
take time away from her child in order to spend it with a guy. So the solution
is, in short, to sacrifice whatever little time you have with your child, pay a
sitter, and go out on dates, on the off-chance it will work, and you’ll get
married. Then there’s the question of introducing men to your child. Would the
experts on this suggest that the single mom bring every guy home to meet the
child, have him get involved in your child’s life, then further wound the child
if it doesn’t work out? Or is it better to wait until it’s serious before
making such introductions? How is a relationship to get serious when the mom is
(like me) largely unwilling to sacrifice the 4 hours a day I have with my son,
or the weekends which are the only real “quality time” we have together? Do you
see the quandary? <o:p></o:p></div>
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As the single mother of a son, I know how important it is
for him to be around men that present a healthy influence to him—so I’m grateful
(for many reasons) that I am in a denomination which does not ordain women, so
he can see men of God dutifully serving the gifts of God to the people of God.
I’m grateful that his teacher this year is a man (the only man at his school
that teaches at his grade level). I’m grateful for the male basketball coaches
he’s had. I’m beyond grateful for my father, his grandfather, who absolutely
treasures him. In this regard, we have been tremendously blessed, but I know
this is not the case for many single moms, because the men are absent, not just
from their personal lives, but from their social circles. There could be a lot
more complaining about the rise of single parenthood, more chicken little
hand-wringing about the demise of the family, or real men of God could step
alongside the single mom to actually help and support her. <o:p></o:p></div>
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One of my favorite books is <i>To Kill a Mockingbird</i>, and in
this novel we see a single father trying to raise two children, with the help of
the maid and the community; Atticus is rarely seen as a threat to the nuclear
family, instead he is seen as a hero, doing the best he can for his children,
despite the circumstances that have befallen his family. I would submit that
instead of seeing the single mom as a threat to America and apple pie, we
simply see her as a person who loves her children, and is fighting an uphill battle against the circumstances that threaten to devour her and her children. <o:p></o:p></div>
Ellie Corrowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01949031622556142056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2724385447266318815.post-73735661898486459482012-09-15T09:20:00.001-04:002012-09-15T09:20:34.629-04:00Women’s Bible Studies and Women’s Ordination: Are They Connected?<span xmlns=''><p> It's no secret that I'm no fan of <em>those</em> sorts of women's Bible studies. You know the ones that I mean, they usually have something to do with chocolate, or clothes, or beauty tips, or shopping, or home decorating, and attempt to use these metaphors to convince us that Jesus died so we could be prettier, or just a better version of ourselves. They seem to bleed a theology of glory, have little use for the crosses in our lives (unless they're talking about motherhood or marriage or a bad hair day, because these are the only real crosses women bear). These Bible studies have basically become a cliché, and I'm a little tired of talking or writing about them, but, yet, here I sit. The truth is they just won't go away, and just when you've finished mocking the last one, a new one pops up on the horizon, condescendingly explaining to us that Jesus loves us and wants to give us a fabulous life! Suddenly I feel less like a Christian, and more like a guest on an episode of <em>What Not to Wear</em>, and hear some all-too-thin, painted, and bejeweled woman say to me "try the empire waist, it's very forgiving to women with actual curves!" Read: a well-dressed woman knows how to hide her flaws effortlessly, and this is what Jesus does for us—hides our flaws. Or something. Anyway, I'm rambling, and taking some cheap shots, I'll admit, but I did have a couple of newish thoughts I wanted to submit for consideration.
</p><p> First, I wonder if these sorts of Bible studies, at least in the LCMS, push women closer to accepting women's ordination. Quite simply, it would be very easy for someone struggling with the issue of women's ordination to conclude that these fluffy Bible studies have been published by the Synod's publishing arm because the Synod just doesn't take women seriously, and seems to see them as shallow, mindless divas, incapable of a complete theological thought which cannot be grasped without the aid of a beauty metaphor. Let me be clear, I am not saying this is how the synod views women, that I agree with this explanation, or anything of the sort, but it is a pretty straightforward conclusion to draw, which has the added benefit of killing two birds with one stone: The LCMS doesn't take women seriously, so the LCMS doesn't ordain them. Therefore, if you are a woman who wishes to be taken seriously, then you should either push for women's ordination in the LCMS, or leave for the brighter horizon of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, or the United Methodist Church (since one thing you have gleaned from these endless Bible studies is that Lutherans and Methodists are basically the same).
</p><p> Secondly, I see these Bible studies as basically immodest. That is, if we can disrespect our bodies and our neighbors with our clothing choices, then how much more can we disrespect ourselves and our neighbors (never mind Jesus) by presenting Christianity as little more than a cosmetic life change? This approach fails to take the Scriptures and the baptismal life seriously, as they leave no place for thoughtful exegesis of God's Word, never mind the sacraments, the theology of the cross, or Lutheran doctrine. Instead, we have the theological equivalent of thong on the beach, because everyone knows that woman is always taken seriously and respected for her ideas.
</p><p> The LCMS is at a challenging juncture in regards to the role of women. Many of us are young enough to have been trained to think like feminist activists, and as a result tend to either succumb to this mindset, or eschew all things which bear this mark. This leads to confusion about the role of women in the church, as people respond more readily to the question out of fear of women's ordination than out of respect for women and the church's history; with this backdrop, it would be easy to see these sorts Bible studies as a convenient tool to put women in their place. I really wish we could move past the issue of women's ordination, declare it a dead issue in the LCMS, and move on to other things, but I worry that the prevalence of materials, which are embarrassing to thoughtful Lutheran women everywhere, will only fuel the voices of the feminists who continuously attempt to show us women how we are mistreated, disrespected, and marginalized by a patriarchal hierarchy. This may not be truth, it may only be perception, but perception matters.
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</p><p> </p></span>Ellie Corrowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01949031622556142056noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2724385447266318815.post-47773108501701371512012-08-21T13:09:00.001-04:002012-08-21T13:09:20.163-04:00Luther on Original Sin<span xmlns=''><p> When the sophists speak of original sin, they are speaking only of wretched and hideous lust or concupiscence. But original sin really means that human nature has completely fallen; that the intellect has become darkened, so that we no longer know God and His will and no longer perceive the works of God; furthermore, that the will is extraordinarily depraved, so that we do not trust the mercy of God and do not fear God but are unconcerned, disregard the Word and will of God and follow the desire and the impulses of the flesh; likewise, that our conscience is no longer quiet but, when it thinks of God's judgment, despairs and adopts illicit defenses and remedies. These sins have taken such deep root in our being that in this life they cannot be entirely eradicated, and yet the wretched sophists do not mention them even with a word. Thus, as it always is with correlatives, original sin shows what original righteousness is, and vice versa: original sin is the loss of original righteousness, or the deprivation of it, just as blindness is the deprivation of sight.
</p><p> This involves much more than the monks think when they restrict original righteousness almost exclusively to chastity. But the soul ought to be given consideration first; thereafter also the body, which has been made so hideous by lust. But in the case of the soul the outstanding fact is this: that the knowledge of God has been lost; that we do not everywhere and always give thanks to Him; that we do not delight in His works and deeds; that we do not trust Him; that when He inflicts deserved punishments we begin to hate God and to blaspheme Him; that when we must deal with our neighbor, we yield to our desires and are robbers, thieves, adulterers, murderers, cruel, inhuman, merciless, etc. The passion of lust is indeed some part of original sin. But greater are the defects of the soul: unbelief, ignorance of God, despair, hate, blasphemy. Of these spiritual disasters Adam, in the state of innocence, had no knowledge.
</p><p> --<em>Martin Luther, Lectures on Genesis, Luther's Works volume 1:114.</em></p></span>Ellie Corrowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01949031622556142056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2724385447266318815.post-65156332317239138912012-07-31T13:13:00.003-04:002012-07-31T13:13:48.415-04:00Screwtape: “One of our great allies at present is the church itself.”<span xmlns=""></span><br />
<span xmlns=""><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 12pt;"><i>The following is the text of Letter #3, of C.S. Lewis' </i>Screwtape Letters, <i>a book which contains little more than a series of letters from a demon (Screwtape) to another demon (Wormwood) about how to treat, handle, and misguide a gentleman in Wormwood's care. One must bear in mind that because the letter is written by a demon, the points of reference are opposite to what a Christian expects, yet Lewis uses this literary device to amplify several interesting insights. This is one of the letters which I think of often.
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<span xmlns=""><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 12pt;">MY DEAR WORMWOOD,
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<span xmlns=""><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 12pt;">I note with grave displeasure that your patient has become a Christian. Do not indulge the hope that you will escape the usual penalties; indeed, in your better moments, I trust you would hardly even wish to do so. In the meantime we must make the best of the situation. There is no need to despair; hundreds of these adult converts have been reclaimed after a brief sojourn in the Enemy's camp and are now with us. All the <i>habits </i>of the patient, both mental and bodily, are still in our favor.
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<span xmlns=""><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 12pt;">One of our great allies at present is the Church itself. Do not misunderstand me. I do not mean the Church as we see her spread but through all time and space and rooted in eternity, terrible as an army with banners. That, I confess, is a spectacle which makes our boldest tempters uneasy. But fortunately it is quite invisible to these humans. All your patient sees is the half-finished, sham Gothic erection on the new building estate. When he goes inside, he sees the local grocer with rather an oily expression on his face bustling up to offer him one shiny little book containing a liturgy which neither of them understands, and one shabby little book containing corrupt texts of a number of religious lyrics, mostly bad, and in very small print. When he gets to his pew and looks around him he sees just that selection of his neighbors whom he has hitherto avoided. You want to lean pretty heavily on those neighbors. Make his mind flit to and fro between an expression like "the
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<span xmlns=""><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 12pt;">body of Christ" and the actual faces in the next pew. It matters very little, of course, what kind of people that next pew really contains. You may know one of them to be a great warrior on the Enemy's side. No matter. Your patient, thanks to Our Father below, is a fool. Provided that any of those neighbors sing out of tune, or have boots that squeak, or double chins, or odd clothes, the patient will quite easily believe that their religion must therefore be somehow ridiculous. At his present stage, you see, he has an idea of "Christians" in his mind which he supposes to be spiritual but which, in fact, is largely pictorial. His mind is full of togas and sandals and armor and bare legs and the mere fact that the other people in church wear modern clothes is a real—though of course an unconscious—difficulty to him. Never let it come to the surface; never let him ask what he expected them to look like. Keep everything hazy in his mind now, and you will have all eternity
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<span xmlns=""><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 12pt;">wherein to amuse yourself by producing in him the peculiar kind of clarity which Hell affords.
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<span xmlns=""><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 12pt;">Work hard, then, on the disappointment or anticlimax which is certainly coming to the patient during his first few weeks as a churchman. The Enemy allows this disappointment to occur on the threshold of every human endeavor. It occurs when the boy who has been enchanted in the nursery by <i>Stories from the Odyssey </i>buckles down to really learning Greek. It occurs when lovers have got married and begin the real task of learning to live together. In every department of life it marks the transition from dreaming aspiration to laborious doing. The Enemy takes this risk because He has a curious fantasy of making all these disgusting little human vermin into what He calls His "free" lovers and servants—"sons" is the word He uses, with His inveterate love of degrading the whole spiritual world by unnatural liaisons with the two-legged animals. Desiring their freedom, He therefore refuses to carry them, by their mere affections and habits, to any of the goals which He sets before them: He leaves them to "do it on their own". And there lies our opportunity. But also, remember, there lies our danger. If once they get through this initial dryness successfully, they
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<span xmlns=""><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 12pt;">become much less dependent on emotion and therefore much harder to tempt.
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<span xmlns=""><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 12pt;">I have been writing hitherto on the assumption that the people in the next pew afford no <i>rational</i> ground for disappointment. Of course if they do—if the patient knows that the woman with the absurd hat is a fanatical bridge-player or the man with squeaky boots a miser and an extortioner—then your task is so much the easier. All you then have to do is to keep out of his mind the question "If I, being what I am, can consider that I am in some sense a Christian, why should the different vices of those people in the next pew prove that their religion is mere hypocrisy and convention?" You may ask whether it is possible to keep such an obvious thought from occurring even to a human mind. It is, Wormwood, it is! Handle him properly and it simply won't come into his head. He has not been anything like long enough with the Enemy to have any real humility yet. What he says, even on his knees, about his own sinfulness is all parrot talk. At bottom, he still believes he has run up a very favorable credit-balance in the Enemy's ledger by allowing himself to be converted, and thinks that he is showing great humility and condescension in going to church with these "smug", commonplace neighbors at all. Keep him in that state of mind as long as you can.
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<span xmlns=""><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 12pt;">Your affectionate uncle,
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<span xmlns=""><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 12pt;">SCREWTAPE</span></span><br />Ellie Corrowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01949031622556142056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2724385447266318815.post-74285809346426339992012-01-25T11:12:00.001-05:002012-01-25T11:12:23.121-05:00What’s Wrong with Women’s Bible Studies?<span xmlns=''><p>For better or for worse, much of contemporary American theology is market-driven. That is to say what is widely published, widely advertised, and widely read is all too often what is sufficiently tantalizing rather than what is sufficiently orthodox. Too many publishers of Bible study materials realize that women are ready consumers, especially when it comes to anything which may serve to support their perception of their spiritual journeys. Too often these materials rely upon stereotypes of women and what they desire from Bible study, play to these stereotypes, and coax women further down the road of crass self-centeredness, and general vapidity, all under the guise of growing closer to God. One would think that Lutheran women, those who walk the lonely way, to borrow Hermann Sasse's phrase, would be immune to the silliness which permeates the field of women's study materials, but this is hardly the case. One need only to look at the recommended reading for the Lutheran Women's Leadership <a href='http://blog.cuw.edu/wli/about/womens-ministry/'>Institute</a> to see how far afield Bible study for Lutheran women has gone.
</p><p>What's wrong with using materials from non-Lutheran sources? This is a question often posed to me, generally with the caveat that we may glean from these sources the "good" stuff, excising the problematic portions. This view is exactly the problem. It seems clear to me that anyone who would favor most of the people on this list is probably ill-equipped to decipher sound Biblical theology. It's a harsh statement, I know, but it's the truth. That is not to say that one couldn't, hypothetically, study Beth Moore or Rick Warren, with a mind toward spotting the difficulties in their respective theologies, my criticism is really leveled at those who think they are capable of sifting through the trash, when they are still electing to feed people trash. This is akin to turning down a fresh and perfectly cooked steak in favor of a Big Mac and claiming that really they're very similar because they both contain beef (maybe). Once you've claimed the Big Mac is really equivalent to the steak (you just need to remove the extra buns and unidentifiable sauce), you've already demonstrated you don't know what you're talking about, and I know not to approach you for culinary advice.
</p><p>"But really we're talking about the same Jesus, and yes I know that Baptists don't believe in the sacraments, but that's secondary." Yet another statement I often hear (are we spotting the problem yet?). Okay, ladies, the sacraments aren't some nice little add-on Jesus gave us to make our day a little better, brighter, or happier. They're our lifeblood, quite literally. Can someone be saved without the sacraments? Yeah, I suppose, but why are you even asking the question? That is like discussing whether or not you could, hypothetically, hike Everest in a cute pair of Cole Haan sling-backs. You could, I guess, but you'll probably lose a couple toes to frostbite. Our pastors don't harp on the sacraments in their preaching and teaching, and actually pour them into our mouths and on to our heads because they couldn't think of anything more creative to do this Sunday. They do it because it's what Jesus gave them to do! They are tasked with pouring Jesus into our ears and into our mouths, so we may have certainty in His work applied to each of us individually. You really want to hear about how you can be a better person rather than being given Christ, in His body and blood, for you and the forgiveness of your sins? Believe it or not self-esteem is not a more pressing need than salvation. And, believe it or not, the two really aren't connected. How you feel about yourself has little to do with whether or not Jesus died for you. Sacramental theology is not just about these two (three?) rituals in which the church engages on a fairly regular basis, they are about the promises of God given to us, the promise of Christ Himself for us. Rather than trying to feel Christ in your heart (the bedrock of all asacramental theology) how about you receive Him in your mouth—given and shed for you. Really to reject Christ in the sacrament is to be of a different spirit, as the God who is not flesh for us is of no avail to us.
</p><p>Next, "but women don't want to study heavy theology, they want something lighter and happier." Sigh. Again and again I find this actually isn't the case. Women think this is what they want because it's what they've been told, but I also know a lot of women who won't attend a women's Bible study because they're tired of talking about Jesus' gift of a good manicure, or why God is like chocolate (yes, two studies I actually sat in on). Believe it or not ladies, you are intelligent, you do have a brain, and you can apply your brain to the study of God's Word. It won't hurt, promise. Next, if you don't want to study heavy theology, and theology isn't really interesting to you, then perhaps you should, I don't know, step out of the way and let your PASTOR lead the study, after all, it seems he has received the call to do so.
</p><p>Why do women's Bible study materials exist in the first place? Honestly, I haven't a clue. I really think it's just market-driven theology which I referenced in the first paragraph. Women will buy things because they are especially for women, are marketed for them, and so create a profit for publishing houses. I think the claim that we need general studies for women (as opposed to studies for issues which are specific to women) is entirely bogus. The difference between a Bible study for men and one for women is that if the leader really likes you she might bring chocolate. Yeah, there I go with the stereotype that all women like chocolate, but my point is that the material isn't different simply because it's for a different gender. There isn't a feminine view of the message of Scripture which is distinct from the masculine view. I'm sorry ladies, but Jesus didn't give you some special message which can only be decoded if you have a uterus. The truth is all Scripture is about Christ and His work for us. There isn't a women's gospel and a men's gospel. Does this mean that it's inappropriate to have a time of Bible study where only the women gather together? No. Women do tend to be more open, more honest, and fellowship a little easier when it is only women. Just as men like to have "man time" (read: hunting trips) women like to have time where it's just us girls. This is fine, but PASTORS, for the love of the women in your church, pay attention to what they're studying. If you are not going to lead the study, then ensure that the woman who is knows her stuff, and always be aware of what they are studying.
</p><p>This problem is not just a women's problem. It's not simply that I'm whining because I don't fit in at any women's Bible study because I will ALWAYS choose Chemnitz over Warren, but rather is expressed as concern for the church as a whole. My concern is for the women who absorb this stuff, and as a result have no grasp of the faith which has been once and for all delivered to the saints, and who then catechize their children with Evangelical assumptions in mind. The truth is that we can talk about male headship until we're blue in the face, but the fact is that a lot of fathers are absent, either from the household, or from church, or both, and women have stepped into their roles taking defacto headship. Now we have children, both boys and girls, raised to believe that feelings trump truth every day of the week. Lord, have mercy. </p></span>Ellie Corrowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01949031622556142056noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2724385447266318815.post-42452374291802653862011-12-12T21:07:00.001-05:002011-12-12T21:07:26.787-05:00Open Letter to Women Desiring to be Pastors<span xmlns=''><p>In many respects the modern era brought almost limitless advancement for women; today we are granted choices which are staggering even to our grandmothers. There are few career opportunities from which we're excluded due to our gender, we may decide the number of children to have, whether or not to be married, where to live, and how much education we wish to pursue--the options for us really are endless. In most respects the world is ours, and this can lull us into the belief that we have the right to everything we want, or that to be denied something is an attempt at subjugation. How dare society, culture, or family hold us back, never mind the church! In this climate we are taught to resist tradition, or in the very least treat it with suspicion, after all tradition merely serves as a vestige of the past, a past which insisted women comply with its demands and stipulations, a past which we have been taught robbed women of their freedom. From this vantage point it is difficult to see any restriction placed upon women as meaningful, helpful, or even advantageous. Is the continuing subjugation of women what is in the historic Church's mind when she restricts women from occupying the Office of the Holy Ministry? Is this another blockade which women must breach on the path to freedom?
</p><p>It is my assumption that any woman who is considering the Office of the Holy Ministry has read Scripture and noted the many women who are granted special recognition by its authors. Scripture does not ignore women, rather it very forthrightly lauds them for their service. We see many examples of strong faithful women throughout the Bible, in its pages we meet Rahab, Sarah, Hannah, Deborah a prophetess and Judge of Israel, Mary Magdelene, Martha, and even Mary, the one chosen to bear our Lord. We note that women stayed by our Lord during His crucifixion, and are later there to witness the resurrection, even telling the apostles the news. Then there are the women, named and unnamed, who supported the ministry of the apostles with their service and their finances. This witness does not stop at Scripture as church history boasts a pantheon of female saints who served the church in countless ways. It is clear that Scripture and church tradition, far from subjugating women, affords them honor. It is also clear that none of these women served as pastors. Despite the special place that our Lord grants to women, He never called one to be an apostle, rather He calls men to feed His sheep.
</p><p>Did our Lord fail to call women to the Office of the Holy Ministry because He was somehow short-sighted? Did He deny that women were capable of carrying out this weighty task? It seems obvious that women are capable of carrying out the tasks of the ministry--it is not as if we are somehow physically unable to write a sermon, preach it, or administer the sacraments. Women are indeed physically capable of all the tasks with which the ministry is vested, yet this is a form of service which eludes the women of Scripture. The ministry is not like other secular jobs which we may pursue--it is not a matter of our capabilities, it is a matter of our Lord's ordering of creation and indeed His Church. Just as we are unable to become fathers by simply participating in traditional fatherly roles, we may not become pastors simply because we take on the role of pastor. Women would not deny that we aren't given to fatherhood, or that our inability to become fathers can be undone by a mere change in policy, yet we expect Christ's Church, His Bride, to be less stalwart than simple biology. Do we really want that which richly forgives our sins and the sins of all believers to be as fickle as our culture? The order of creation which the Church mimics does not seek to pit women against men, rather it honors diversity by highlighting the distinctions between male and female, along with the gifts and vocations each are afforded.
</p><p>There are many ways in which women may serve the church, the pastoral ministry is hardly the only vehicle of service available. If we assume that women must be pastors in order to have legitimate service to the church, then we tarnish the service of the women who have gone before us, women who though sinners are extolled in Scripture, and hardly treated as second-class citizens because they failed to achieve the pastoral office. Furthermore, to claim that women must be pastors do we not also submit to a mindset which is astonishingly patriarchal? That is, it assumes that the only valid service to be rendered is that which is given to men. This is akin to stating that fatherhood is the only meaningful parental vocation. Why cannot we simply rejoice in the service which we have been given rather than opining that which we have not been given?
</p><p>Scripture calls wives to submit to their husbands, but it also calls husbands to love their wives as Christ loved the Church. When we seek to traverse the bounds of gender and creation we deny men the vocations they have been given, we reject their love, and in the name of freedom we simply submit to another form of bondage. Instead of submitting to Christ's authority, and the authority of those men given to preach His Word and administer His sacraments, we wander aimlessly in the wilderness, bereft of the Church, and falling victim to every wind of doctrine. By pursuing ordination women risk following in the footsteps of Eve who doubted God's Word, twisted it to her own ends, and trusted the promise of the serpent—yet another promise of freedom resulting in bondage to sin and death. For these reasons the question of women's ordination cannot be simply an academic issue, or even a secondary issue, as it flies directly in the face of our Lord's institution of the Church. Rather than remaining the ship which saves us from a flood of sin, the church becomes yet another worldly establishment which promises everything and delivers exactly nothing.</p></span>Ellie Corrowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01949031622556142056noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2724385447266318815.post-33661616345305140032011-09-22T21:54:00.001-04:002011-09-22T21:54:02.575-04:00Bloodless Jesus<span xmlns=''><p>"Well, toward morning the conversation turned on the Eucharist, which I, being the Catholic, was obviously supposed to defend. Mrs. Broadwater said when she was a child and received the Host, she thought of it as the Holy Ghost, He being the 'most portable' person of the Trinity; now she thought of it as a symbol and implied that it was a pretty good one. I then said, in a very shaky voice, 'Well, if it's a symbol, to hell with it.' That was all the defense I was capable of but I realize now that this is all I will ever be able to say about it, outside of a story, except that it is the center of existence for me; all the rest of life is expendable." –Flannery O'Connor, letter to "A", December 16<sup>th</sup> 1955.
</p><p>These seem like harsh words, particularly when one considers it unlikely that Flannery was speaking hyperbolically. Indeed, if it is just a symbol it is a form of rank idolatry, as it communicates a Christ who is present only as an extension of our own memorializing of Him, rather than according to His flesh and promise. Christ's presence in a symbolic Eucharist is fomented by our own identification with the symbolism, with the abstraction, with the emotional connection to the event of the Cross, therefore the Christ worshiped is a mirror of one's own sentiment. In this schema the Eucharist ceases to be where Christ meets, forgives, and feeds sinners with true life.
</p><p>So much is to be gained by this simple truth held by the Church throughout her history, yet a large vocal minority rages against it. There is no exegetical basis to claim that the Eucharist is purely symbolic, unless one is really willing to argue that Jesus' words do not mean what they say, yet the raging remains among many who claim to be bound by the witness and authority of Scripture. The sinful man must rage against Christ's presence in our midst. A figurative Christ, one who is all spirit and no flesh can be contorted to suit our likings; it is easier to bend a memory to conform to one's own particular sentimentalities than it is to risk our own encounter with the flesh and blood of Jesus. Humans are not incapable of erecting monuments to their own sentiments, and certainly are not above worship of our own emotions. A sentimentalized Jesus is preferable: He's simpler, and certainly much tidier. The flesh and blood Jesus is hazardous to sinners, and even much more so dangerous to the virtuous, here one must nod to C.S. Lewis and agree that though Jesus is good, He is not safe. We know we are unlikely to survive a meeting with Jesus--our vices with be brought to light, and perhaps even more frighteningly, our virtues seared away, our pious pretentions would be reduced to rubble, leaving us with nothing of ourselves, nothing which we can claim as ours. A symbolic Eucharist is the vain attempt to save ourselves from such an encounter with Christ. Much like the demons, in our sin we cry out, "depart from us Jesus of Nazareth!" Yet unlike swine cast into the abyss, we are not driven away, but rather comforted, not with some sentimental notion that He loves us just as we are, but rather in a much more concrete absolute—that He feeds us Himself so we may live. He does destroy us, as even our most virtuous qualities are burned away by the flesh and blood the crucified and risen Lord, and it is then that we amount only to what we are in Him. But in this, staring through a glass darkly we begin to understand with the apostle that it is no longer "I who lives, but Christ who lives in me."</p></span>Ellie Corrowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01949031622556142056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2724385447266318815.post-47571171523788908532011-07-28T10:17:00.001-04:002011-07-28T10:17:45.405-04:00From Vice to Virtue?<span xmlns=''><p>"God does not want to redeem us through our own, but through external, righteousness and wisdom; not through one that comes from us and grows in us, but through one that comes to us from the outside; not through one that originates here on earth, but through one that originates in heaven. Therefore, we must be taught a righteousness that comes completely from the outside and is foreign. And therefore our own righteousness that is born in us must first be plucked up. Thus we read in Ps. 45:10 'Forget your people and your father's house, etc.' Abraham, too, was ordered to leave his father's house in this way (Gen 12:1). Thus we read also in the Song of Solomon (4:8) 'Come from Lebanon, my spouse, and you shall be crowned.' Also, the whole exodus of the people of Israel formerly symbolized that exodus which they interpret as one from faults to virtues. But it would be better to understand it as an exodus from virtues to the grace of Christ, because virtues of that kind are often greater or worse faults the less they are accepted as such and the more powerfully they subordinate to themselves every human emotion at the expense of all other good qualities. Thus the right side of the Jordan was more afraid than the left side. But now Christ wants our whole disposition to be so stripped down that we are not only unafraid of being embarrassed for our faults and also do not delight in the glory and vain joys of our virtues but that we do not feel called upon to glory before men even in that external righteousness that comes to us from Christ. Nor should we be cast down by sufferings and evils which are inflicted on us for His sake. A true Christian must have no glory of his own and must to such an extent be stripped of everything he calls his own that in honor and dishonor he can always remain the same in the knowledge that the honor that has been bestowed on him has been given not to him but to Christ, whose righteousness and gifts are shining in him, and that the dishonor inflicted on him is inflicted both on him and on Christ."
</p><p>Martin Luther, <em>Lectures on Romans</em> (Luther's Works 25:136-7)</p></span>Ellie Corrowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01949031622556142056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2724385447266318815.post-90505115730196733342011-06-18T19:34:00.001-04:002011-06-18T19:34:00.465-04:00Religion Versus Relationship?<span xmlns=''><p> "It's not about religion but about relationship" has become a cliché bandied about primarily by Evangelicals wishing to underscore what it is that makes them distinct from the forms of Christianity that have come before them. Evangelicalism is, indeed, relatively new on the religious landscape, and it understands that it must market itself to a population which expects to be seduced by good salesmanship, if it is to survive. That is, Evangelicalism, particularly American Evangelicalism, understands Americans. It understands that in America success is largely measured by popularity, which is measured by numbers. In order to get one's numbers to grow, it helps if there is a slogan which sets you apart from what is, for lack of a better word, the competition. In a sense, "it's not about religion but about relationship" has become the marketing jingle of America's own brand of Christianity. With these few words it lays bare a critique of the forms of Christianity which have preceded her, and it promises a new, revitalized, version of Christianity. In this new version of Christianity God is not concerned with Himself, but God is concerned with you. He wants to get to know you as a person, because, well, you're that important. And if you get to know God, you'll discover the power awaiting your claim. Americans understand power: we want and expect our cars to be powerful, our military to be powerful, our leaders to be powerful, and we certainly expect our religion, opps, I mean our personal relationship with Jesus, to be one of power as well.
</p><p> The trouble with this language, with this phrase, isn't the words themselves. There is nothing inherently wrong with speaking of a personal relationship with Jesus, to seek to know and understand Him better. What is troubling, are the connotations it bears within the American religious landscape: it speaks of a Christianity devoid of any certainty, or any assurance outside of one's own personal experience of Jesus. By speaking of Christianity as something that is grounded in one's own experience, and rejecting what it classifies as "religion" which invariably are the rituals and sacraments which Christ has provided His Church, we form a vapid Christianity lacking any depth, and certainly without any personal weakness. In this new Christianity there is no room for failure, there is no room for Job, there is no room for God dead on a cross. It is no accident that this Christianity, or what passes for Christianity, rarely portrays this dead God in their sanctuaries. Here one might trot out the Reformed understanding of the numbering of the 10 Commandments, which places as the second commandment a prohibition against images of the divine, and at some junctures this might be a valid historical claim, however, I believe in mainstream American Christianity, something much more sinister is at work—the Cross doesn't have any value in a religion that is largely about you and your personal success stories. We see this principle at play in the use of testimonies within these churches. Everyone is expected to have a testimony, this is the mark of one's salvation—how bad a sinner were you, and how much have you cleaned up your act since then (of course with all the glory to God alone!)? And no, no one ever says "well I was a three week old rotten sinner at enmity with God when my parents carted me the baptismal font where I was born again in the waters of baptism, and given the promise of life and salvation." No, that's just not exciting enough (debates over infant baptism notwithstanding). When this brand of Christianity speaks of an encounter with Jesus, it will almost certainly be in the form of goosebumps, chills, an internal revitalization, or I cringe to say it, a "special word from the Lord." In this brand of Christianity it's blasé to say one has encountered Jesus by eating His body and drinking His blood, for the forgiveness of sins. Not nearly exciting enough. In this brand of Christianity, salvation itself has become blasé. Or at least salvation spoken of in Biblical terms--you're a rotten sinner, Jesus is a great Savior who loves you, died for you, and there's nothing you can do about it. In this form of Christianity our feelings are a means of grace, our source of assurance, and Jesus is our life coach. He's there to encourage us, and to bless us, to help us straighten up and fly right. This brand of Christianity has done exactly what it claims it does not do: it is a very religious program of personal self-fulfillment and self-advancement.
</p><p>What do we lose when we define our faith by our experience and our quest for power? We lose Jesus. Sure, there may be much talk about Jesus, but he's a Jesus without any verbs, and is almost relegated to an abstract concept. He is a Jesus who died, rose, and ascended, so we may have "power from on high." He's a Jesus who is the means to a better life. He is no longer the sum total of all theology. With this emphasis on power we lose Jesus, and we lose the prayer of the Church, "Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy." There is little place for a cry for mercy when one is busy with the business of being a successful Christian.
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</em></p><p>A few days ago a <a href='http://dogmadoxa.blogspot.com/2011/01/whats-message-of-bible-in-one-sentence.html'>blog entry</a> appeared which listed the answers given by nearly 30 noted Evangelical scholars and pastors when asked to relay the message of the Bible in one sentence. I was struck by this entry and the responses; the question he poses is the sort which would force us to sift through our own perceptions of what it is God brings to us in His Word. In a day where the Bible is used for any one of a number of things: life coach, financial planner, magic de-coder ring, prophecy illuminator, and basic instruction book, what do seminary professors, scholars, and mega church pastors see as the Bible's central message?
</p><p>Perhaps not surprisingly, though somewhat depressingly, several scholars gave responses that made me want to plant a tree rather than rejoice in the salvation God has brought to man. I cannot help but find it distressing that seminary professors and pastors could speak of God's central message without speaking of Jesus, not to mention Jesus' salvation of sinners. Granted, several responses did point to Jesus, however this is not Leno's "Jaywalking" segment, this is not the word on the street--this is the word from the seminaries. Many bloggers, commentators, and radio hosts have pointed to the near-absent evangel in much of today's Evangelicalism, and I think we tend to assume that law-centered, improve your life, be a good person, 40-days-to-a-better-you, type of sermons and Bible studies happen in some sort of vacuum. If a professor at a seminary does not see Christ crucified for sinners as the central message of Scripture, then how can we expect him to see Jesus on every page? How can we expect him to teach seminarians anything different from what he himself confesses? Why should we be surprised when the gospel is treated as a secondary add-on when it is not seen as the central message of the Bible? If the professors don't know what the Bible's about, then how can the students (who will later be pastors) fare any better?
</p><p>This question reminds me of recent sermon delivered by a noted Christian apologist at Gordon Conwell Theological Seminary: he was slated to preach on "What's so great about the gospel?" but introduced his sermon by stating that he couldn't begin to cover that topic in 20 minutes, so chose instead to preach a bizarre sermon which outlined his principles for leadership. This leads us to consider the old adage that if we understand something we should be able to explain it quickly and with simplicity.
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</p></span>Ellie Corrowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01949031622556142056noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2724385447266318815.post-84124533271777250542010-08-23T12:37:00.000-04:002010-08-23T12:37:37.704-04:00Waivering Wanda--My Review of Beth Moore's "Get Out of That Pit"Beth Moore couples a profoundly deficient understanding, interpretation, and application of Scripture with her desire to assuage her audience’s feelings of loneliness and failure, thereby creating a landscape in which we are told that God will not help us out of our various pits, and we must save ourselves. Moore’s lack of theological certitude causes her to systematize a strange theological formula in which she seems to borrow from both the Calvinist and Arminian camps, creating a God who is far removed from us and our suffering, as God’s sovereignty is a constant basis of appeal for Moore, and an anthropology where man is not only able to save himself, but actually desires to do so. This flies in the face of Scripture’s teaching about man and the work of the Redeemer. In Moore’s schema, Jesus is no longer the all-sufficient Savior from sin, death, and the devil, but rather man’s help-meet, who soothes us in the midst of our mistakes. In short, Moore’s theology, as presented in this book, fails to proclaim God’s work on behalf of sinners, and has such has no basis from which to deliver on its subtitled promise of “straight talk about God’s deliverance.”<br />
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Moore defines a pit and its impact: “a pit is an early grave that Satan digs for you in hopes he can bury you alive. Should you fall into it, make no mistake; he cannot make you stay. Ironically, neither will God make you leave. Like it or not, some things are simply up to us.” This definition lays the groundwork for Moore, and it is not difficult to see how this would create a multiplicity of complications for the unsuspecting reader. Despite Moore’s various attempts to define a pit, or even how we can get out of the pit, the reader is left with little other than mystical language which is more than slightly nebulous. Granted, Moore does go on to further qualify by explaining how to recognize when one is stuck in a pit, but again she fails to do this without resorting to language which is entirely centered on the individual and his or her sense of reality. Moore tells us that one may recognize herself as a pit-dweller when one or several criteria are met.<br />
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Moore’s first indication that one is caught in a pit is that one feels stuck. She draws this conclusion from Isaiah 42:22, which, according to her paraphrase, describes a pit as a “place where you feel trapped.” The trouble is that this is not what God is telling us in Isaiah 42:22. Rather, God is describing the exile which Israel must endure as the result of her faithlessness. Oddly enough this verse is sandwiched between a plainly Christological description of God’s servant who will not break a bruised reed or quench a burning wick (Isaiah 42:3, ESV),who will “open the eyes that are blind, bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness” (Isaiah 42:7, ESV) and an on-going description of God as Israel’s deliverer in chapter 43. It is clear from the context that God was not describing a pit figuratively as an emotional place in which one feels stuck, but was literally describing the fruit of Israel’s faithlessness. God also goes on to say that He is Israel’s deliverer, He does not give them steps to climb out of a pit of emotional despair but promises a future servant in whom God’s “soul delights” (Isaiah 42:1) and furthermore promises deliverance from the turmoil that will soon seem to engulf them. Even if God was simply illustrating an emotional difficulty in one’s life, these chapters make it clear that escape from the pit is not at all left up to us, but is rather fomented by God’s direct intervention in humanity through His Son the Servant and Savior.<br />
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The second way we may know that we’re in a pit is when we “can’t stand up.” For this criterion Moore takes her cue from Psalm 69:2, where David laments his weariness in the face of seemingly insurmountable enemies. Interestingly enough, this very psalm looks to God as the deliverer. After pouring out his heart to God, David proclaims “But I am afflicted and in pain; let your salvation, O God, set me on high!” (Psalm 69:29, ESV) David expounds on this point further and concludes the psalm by rejoicing in the Lord’s salvation. David looks to God. Moore, however, seems to overlook this somewhat obvious point, and chastises her readers for failing to take the devil’s schemes more seriously:<br />
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"If you’re not already convinced, it’s time you accepted the biblical fact that your soul has a very real enemy, and he is not flesh and blood. We can’t keep on ignoring someone who is systematically trying to destroy our lives. The passivity has got to go. Ephesians 6:11 implores us, ‘Take your stand against the devil’s schemes.” Your stand. No one can stand indefinitely for you. If you and I are going to be victorious people, we’ve got to stand with our own two feet on solid ground. Ephesians 6:13 exhorts, ‘Stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.’" <br />
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Moore is correct inasmuch that the devil is indeed the enemy of our souls. Scripture tells us that we do not wage war against flesh and blood. However, Moore’s broader assertion is far more troubling, especially when placed in its correct Scriptural context: first Moore puts the weight of deliverance upon us, and claims that Scripture does the same. This is so far from the truth it is astonishing. Moore claims she is quoting Ephesians 6:11 when she is actually only providing a summary of the verse, and a profoundly misleading summary at that. The verse, according to the English Standard Version, actually states: “Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil.” But what is even more telling is that the verse which precedes this tells us to “be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might.” Moore tells her readers to stand under their own strength when these verses tell us explicitly not to do this but rather we are to stand against Satan in the Lord’s might, not our own, protected by the gifts the Lord has given to His children. <br />
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Lastly, Moore states that we can recognize we are in a pit when we have “lost vision.” It is difficult to discern what exactly it is Moore means when she uses this phrase, as she speaks of it in terms of an “endless echo of self-absorption” and also a failure to “overflow with an effervescent life, stirring and spilling with God-given vision.” Her descriptions here are starkly mystical, and as such it is unsurprising that even given her somewhat unscrupulous use of Scripture, she is unable to find one to support her case here. This simply is an assertion which is entirely without Scriptural warrant: even Scripture put to rather creative uses.<br />
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From her description of a pit, Moore goes on to explain three different means of arriving in a pit, and our various means of escape. One may find herself in a pit when she is thrown into it by life circumstances, by slipping into it by neglecting the things of God, or by jumping into it by committing willful sin. The distinctions Moore makes between these pits are essentially the result of Moore’s anthropology. She spends many pages discussing the devil’s schemes, but never addresses man’s sinful condition, and his ensuing war against his own flesh. Thus, a pit is always Satan’s trap, which we fail to avoid through our own lack of commitment and earnestness in our Christian walks. <br />
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Of the three descents into a pit that Moore describes, the most troubling is her description of the pit into which we fall. She uses as an example Joseph’s slavery in Egypt, but not only as an example of an event in a biblical character’s life, and also as a rubric for recognizing and conquering one’s pit. What is of particular concern is the theological perspective she brings to the pit that some of us may have been thrown into as victims of abuse or misfortune. Moore approaches the theodical question from the basis of God’s sovereignty rather than grounding the question of God’s goodness in the face of suffering in the cross of Christ. Moore attempts to comfort her readers with the knowledge of a sovereign God who orchestrates difficult events in their lives to ultimately bring a better end. Superficially, it may seem that Moore has a biblical case; however, she is delving deeply into the hidden will of God. We know that God can take all pain and suffering and bring good out of it--the cross itself is proof of this. However, there is a profound difference between God bringing good from the intentions of the evil one, and God actively orchestrating evil events in our lives. The truth is we cannot always know the specifics of why a terrible ordeal was suffered by one person and not another. We can know, however, of the God who comes to save sinners, who takes all our infirmities upon Himself. We can know that God loves us and we can comfort people with this knowledge by pointing to Christ. We cannot point to God’s sovereignty in an attempt to comfort hurting people; and this is not how God would have us comfort others. The God of Christendom is a God who steps down to humanity in His incarnation, and continues to meet humanity in His Word and the sacraments. As He promises, He is with us always, even to the end of the age (Mt. 28:20). An appeal to God’s sovereignty in the midst of suffering leaves room for one to despair of God’s love. Moore makes God’s love into an abstraction when God Himself illustrates His love on Golgotha. <br />
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Unsurprisingly, Moore solves the problem of life’s various pits with an unhealthy dose of watered-down law. Rather than dealing with biblical categories of sin, repentance, faith, and forgiveness, she deals almost exclusively in the categories of mistakes, mishaps, misdeeds, our human decisions, and our relationship with Christ. Moore sees a stronger relationship with Christ as the answer to all life’s ills, but fails to give the reader tools to understand how this relationship is fashioned. One would not expect a Southern Baptist to be sacramental in her counsel to despairing sinners, but one can expect her to at least demonstrate a clear grasp of the gospel. Moore does not demonstrate this, but rather tells a struggling sinner to get her act together by deciding to put her trust in Christ. She imagines it is comforting to be told “He’s all yours if you want Him [Christ].” She tells us that the way out of the pit is to make the decision to give Jesus our whole heart, mind and soul: when we have done these things we can know we are out of the pit. It seems obvious, however, that if we could keep the first commandment, which is all Moore is really asking of her readers, then we really would not need a savior. <br />
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Moore simply does not grasp that she is speaking to sinners with a bound will who do not naturally seek the things of God. Because Moore does not understand the fallen human condition, she fails to understand and communicate the all-encompassing work of Christ. Without pure, unfettered gospel there is simply no means to deliver Christ to despairing sinners. Moore approaches sinners in despair, and tells them how to feel forgiven without really proclaiming Christ’s forgiveness. This is where her confusion of law and gospel becomes the most apparent—and the most disastrous. Because Moore seeks to make sinners feel better, she does not allow the law to condemn to its full extent, but rather softens the effect. She also does not communicate unconditional gospel promises, but rather restricts the gospel’s promise with words like “all you have to do is…” This structure, and this confusion of law and gospel, has one of two likely outcomes: the despairing sinner could be lead further down the road to despair as she realizes her inability to clean up her own mess. Or, perhaps even worse, she could imagine she has cleaned up her act, and in terms of the law, is managing very adequately. This places the weight of one’s deliverance and salvation upon one’s own good works rather than on Christ’s perfect work. For this reason one has to conclude that Moore’s theology is nothing less than toxic.Ellie Corrowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01949031622556142056noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2724385447266318815.post-76522321480490840092010-06-04T00:26:00.000-04:002010-06-04T00:26:17.719-04:00Why I Became a LutheranI was introduced to Luther, and by extension Lutheranism, by a professor of mine at an Evangelical seminary I attended. I thought I was a pretty convinced Southern Baptist until I realized that Luther nailed me and my pietism on too many things.<br />
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The summer after my first year at seminary I started attending a Lutheran church off and on and discovered the irrelevance of Lutheran worship and Lutheran preaching. Why irrelevant? Not once did I walk out of that church with steps to improve my love life, my bank account balance, my job prospects, or my social skills. In fact I don't think I ever walked out with steps to improve anything, because all I ever heard about was my sin and my Savior. <br />
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Two back-to-back Sundays during this summer stick in my mind. The first Sunday I attended my regular Baptist church. I don't remember the sermon title, or much of anything about the sermon as a matter of fact, despite the power point and my careful note-taking. I do recall, however, the pastor suggesting that if we wanted to grow in our Christian lives we should take advantage of all the great resources available to us today. If we had financial problems there were books on that, if we had marital problems there were books on that, if we wanted to improve in just about any area we were just about guaranteed that someone had written the book for that struggle which would detail how to be a good, virtuous Christian. The following Sunday I attended the Lutheran church, and received a very different answer to the exact same question-- Jesus. And not just some abstract Jesus who gives me a warm fuzzy feeling in my heart sometimes, but a Jesus who died for my sins, vividly portrayed by the crucifix in front of the church. The pastor didn't tell what to do, but he told me what had already been done. For me.<br />
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In the view of pop-Evangelicalism it doesn't get more irrelvant than vestments, lectionaries, prayer books, hymns, or chanting. It doesn't get more irrelevant than preaching the same gospel to forgiven sinners week after week and month after month. It doesn't get more irrelevant than God's Word combined with water or the very body and blood of Jesus given for the forgiveness of sins. It doesn't get more irrelevant than the Church which desires to know nothing but Christ crucified for sinners. <br />
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It doesn't get more irrelevant than the Church being the Church.Ellie Corrowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01949031622556142056noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2724385447266318815.post-71306981254804003232010-06-01T13:35:00.001-04:002010-06-01T16:23:15.738-04:00I Blame Christian Radio“It doesn’t really matter what anyone really believes, as long as we all love Jesus. Right?”<br />
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“Doctrine is divisive. Jesus prayed that we would all be one, so why can’t we just quit arguing over these secondary issues, and get on doing the work of the Kingdom?” <br />
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“I don’t know what justification is, or how I got it, but I know it’s a good thing.” <br />
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“I don’t need to go to church; I can pray anywhere, read my Bible anywhere, and I can always listen to a great sermon in my living room.” <br />
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While I am quoting comments from some of my friends and acquaintances, I think most of us sense this soft, squishy center at the heart of American Christianity. There’s this basic sentiment that Christianity should be grounded upon a feeling, clothed in mystical cloud, and wrapped in a soft blanket of know-nothingness. From this gooey center flows the firm knowledge that we cannot ever be too certain about doctrine or practice: doctrine shifts, the flowers fade, but one’s feelings last forever. This is what Jesus prayed for in the Garden, right? <br />
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The unity in this soft, squishy core of American Christianity is frankly a bizarre pietistic grab at ecumenism. Jesus wanted us to be one, so we’ll ignore our differences and worship together. Or worse, there’s a cultural battle going on, and if we don’t quit arguing over things like the Lord’s Supper, we’ll never win the battle! There’s nothing worse, or nothing as pathetic, as the Church-- the Body of the Risen Lord, who stands victorious over sin, death, and the devil-- allowing the world, which is by nature a slave to sin and satan, to dictate the terms upon which the Church should conduct herself. Suddenly the Church is no longer a body united around a common confession of Christ, but rather a common confession of social issues. In this schema the church is no longer defined by the Gospel she proclaims, but rather the position she takes on abortion, gay marriage, immigration, the war on terror, and the list goes on. I know I am not the first to make this observation, and I am certain that I will not be the last, but the criticism still stands. <br />
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The “church” in America has allowed itself to be shaped by cultural trends, both in terms of the message it proclaims and in the way it chooses to worship the Triune God. Quite simply, I think American Christianity is just more comfortable in the left-hand kingdom than in the right-hand kingdom: sin is so much more simple there; Law and Gospel distinctions are unnecessary as the law should win the day. If you speed, you should get a ticket. There’s no measure of grace or mercy, because that’s not the function of the sword. American Christianity seems comfortable declaring that if everyone would just behave we could have our own utopia. The Gospel muddies these waters. What is one to do with a sinner who is condemned by a righteous and holy God, who is addicted to sin, and who, even worse, reminds you that you are in the exact same boat. He is powerless to save himself, powerless to quit sinning, and he, like you, stands before God as nothing but a beggar. One could offer him absolution, but wouldn’t that just encourage him to sin some more? It might. But is the church really about behavior modification? Is that really, ultimately, the point? No, the point is to declare the all sufficient work of the Savior on behalf of sinners. He dies for sinners, He doesn’t die for the righteous. American Christianity seems increasingly more uncomfortable with this message. The left hand kingdom is, indeed, far more comfortable. There are no sinners there, just the moral and the immoral. <br />
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The reasons for this trend in the “church” are multitudinous, and many of written much more and with much greater clarity and research on this topic than me. However, I find myself laying the blame more and more firmly upon Christian radio. What? Yes, you read that right, I blame Christian radio. Why? Here’s my most basic reason: Christian radio is the strangest mish-mash of what passes for preaching and theology that I have ever seen. Even if one turns on a Christian television station, there is at least consistency. There are nuns talking about the rosary on the Roman Catholic channel, and there’s Benny Hinn “healing” people and Pat Robertson saying something dumb on TBN. But Christian radio is thoroughly inconsistent. <br />
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Our local Christian radio station, which has a fairly broad listenership in this area, claims to espouse basic Evangelical theology. Yet, for example, on Sunday morning one can wake up to “Front Page Jerusalem” then meander into “Turning Point” with David Jeremiah which flows nicely into “Hour of Decision” with Franklin Graham, which buttressed by “The Lutheran Hour.” Weekdays are even better, as one can get a nice ecumenical diet of everyone from RC Sproul to Joyce Meyer, to Chuck Missler, to John MacArthur, to Focus on the Family. What’s wrong with this? It’s clear to me that Christian radio has tried to be all things to all people, and in doing so has failed to call heresy heresy. Yeah, I just dropped the “H” bomb. Joyce Meyer spouts off theology that would make Pelagius blush, but sure, we’ll give her a slot because people like her. Danger! Will Robinson, Danger! Danger! The trouble is that the listeners are formed by this sickening mosaic of false teaching, and are smart enough to figure out that Joyce Meyer and RC Sproul probably disagree on a few things. How do they reconcile these differences? Probably by concluding that they both love Jesus, so it really can’t be a significant difference.<br />
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Though false teaching is always dangerous, I see a bigger danger in thinking that there really is no such thing as a false teacher: as long as we’re all pro-life, what’s the difference, right?Ellie Corrowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01949031622556142056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2724385447266318815.post-52494337977080789902010-05-26T21:58:00.000-04:002010-05-26T23:19:24.606-04:00Why virtue to grace?The Lutheran theologian Gerhard Forde remarked that the Christian life is not an exodus from vice to virtue, but rather from virtue to grace. But why not from vice to grace? Doesn't this seem much more logical? We're saved from being bad people, from our bad habits, and brought into the fold of God's grace. Aren't we? Sort of. The trouble is that we need to be saved from our "good works" as much as we need to be saved from our vices. In short we need to be saved from ourselves; our trespasses are not restricted to obvious vices, but also extend to our most pious good works. Why? Because we imagine that they are, indeed, good works that just might improve our standing before God. Our piety can actually stand between us and the Savior. No one says "I'm too good to go to heaven" but how many people, even those who should know better, think "I'm fine, at least I'm not like that tax collector over there."
God's grace, His divine decree that we are righteous, not only forgives our sinfulness but also reveals the depth of our sin. This is the strange paradox in which Christians live. We are simultaneously righteous and sinner. This is does not mean we're trapped in some kind of ebb and flow in which we have days where we are righteous, and other days where we are sinners. No, we're both. All the time.
Unfortunately much of Christian teaching today sees the Christian life almost exclusively as a movement from vice to virtue. How many of us have heard people share their testimonies when ran along the lines of "I used to be a [insert particularly egregious sin here which probably involved sex and alcohol and probably drugs too] but then Jesus saved me and now I'm [insert list of virtues here]? What's the problem with this paradigm? If we're so virtuous, then why do we need a Savior?
<blockquote><p>When Luther wanted to talk about any sort of progress in the Christian life under the imputation of justification unconditionally, he grasped at formulations which stand usual understandings right on their head. The <em>simul iustus et peccator </em>makes it impossible to talk of some sort of moral progress in which one moves from one stage to another achieving a sort of perfection, and where every stage is the platform for the next leap. If that were the case, justification as an imputed, unconditional gift would make little sense. The higher one gets, the less grace one would need, until at last one could get along without it altogether. Justification by faith would be something like a temporary loan to cover the debtor until the debt was actually paid. Then the justification would not longer be needed. "Sanctification" and "good works" would be a matter of progressively paying off the debt, perhaps according to the popular slogan, "Become what you are!" where all the stress is usually on the <em>become (</em>you had better, or else!).</p><p>The <em>simul</em> makes all such schemes of progress impossible. The justification given is a total state, a complete, unconditional gift. From that point of view true sanctification is simply to "shut up and listen!" For there can be no <em>more </em>sanctification than where every knee bends and every mouth is silent before God, the only Holy One. And God is revered as the Holy One only where the sinner, the real sinner, stands still at the place where God enters the scene and speaks. That is the place where the sinner must realize that his or her way is at an end. Only those who are so grasped that they stand still here and confess to sin and give God the glory, only they are "sanctified." And there can be no <em>more</em> sanctification than that! ...</p><p>The "progress" of the Christian, therefore, is the progress of one who has constantly to get used to the fact that we are justified totally by faith, constantly has somehow to "recover," so to speak, from that death blow to pride and presumption--or better, is constantly being raise from the tomb of all pious ambition to something quite new. The believer has to be renewed daily in that. The Old Being is to be daily drowned in repentance and raised in faith. The progress of the Christian life is not our movement toward the goal; it is the movement of the goal in upon us. --Gerhard Forde <em>Justification by Faith: A Matter of Death and Life </em></p></blockquote>Ellie Corrowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01949031622556142056noreply@blogger.com5