Devoted to destruction: An early exercise in hermeneutical gymnastics and creative (dis)obedience

An oldie but goodie which, in light of recent pronouncements, is worthy of re-posting.

The fall from favor of Saul, the first king of Israel, is a vivid illustration of the consequences of rebellion and a typical human attempt to rationalize disobedience into obedience. In 1 Samuel 15, Samuel instructs Saul on behalf of the Lord, "Now go and strike Amalek and devote to destruction all that they have. Do not spare them, but kill both man and woman, child and infant, ox and sheep, camel and donkey" (v. 3).

The instructions are clear. But Saul engages in one of the earliest recorded examples of hermeneutical gymnastics. "But Saul and the people spared Agag [king of Amalek] and the best of the sheep and of the oxen and of the fattened calves and the lambs, and all that was good, and would not utterly destroy them. All that was despised and worthless they devoted to destruction" (v. 9).

When confronted by Samuel about his failure to obey the Lord's command, Saul denies that he has been disobedient. He says, "I have obeyed the voice of the LORD. I have gone on the mission on which the LORD sent me. I have brought Agag the king of Amalek, and I have devoted the Amalekites to destruction. But the people took of the spoil, sheep and oxen, the best of the things devoted to destruction, to sacrifice to the LORD your God in Gilgal" (vv. 20-21).

Needless to say, neither Samuel nor the Lord is impressed with Saul's creative interpretation of obedience. Even "the best of the things devoted to destruction" are still "devoted to destruction" and are, therefore, wholly unacceptable as a sacrifice to the Lord. What Saul and "the people" (upon whom he would apparently lay all blame for any deviation from the original plan while exonerating himself) would offer as a sacrifice is an utter abomination. That which is "devoted to destruction" is unholy and cannot be offered as a sacrifice to a holy God.

Whether it's sheep and oxen under the Old Covenant or the living sacrifice of our very selves under the New Covenant, nothing unholy can be brought into the presence of God. That which is "devoted to destruction," that is, the sin which enslaves us in rebellion and idolatry, must be utterly destroyed. To claim certain sinful inclinations are "gifts" to be celebrated within the worshiping community is a most abominable form of blasphemy, borne of a most arrogant presumption that rebellion against God can be rationalized into obedience by offenders who always seem to find clever ways of avoiding personal responsibility for their sinful actions.

Timely Re-post: Mark Sanford and the failure of pop culture evangelicalism

[NOTE: This article was originally posted on June 30, 2009. In light of recent events, I think it is appropriate to re-post it at this time.]

Pop culture mythology portrays "evangelical Christians," lumped together under the umbrella of the "Religious Right," as a potent--even dangerous--force in American politics. In reality, however, the "evangelicalism" so often maligned by the pop culture is largely a product of that culture itself. From the outmoded escapist fantasies of "rapture ready" dispensationalism to the trendy fads of the "Emergent Church," the similarities between pop culture evangelicalism and genuine Christianity are few and far between.

A stinging indictment against one of the major shortcomings of pop culture evangelicalism is the sorry episode involving South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford. As Lloyd Fonvielle sees it, Sanford's "culture" failed him.

Sanford's case feels more complex, and interesting. He's clearly still in love with his Argentinian bombshell, if by love we mean the pussy-fever associated with a new and transgressive sexual relationship. Some failing in the right-wing Christian culture he inhabits seems to have left him unprepared to deal with the power of that fever -- you get a sense he was blindsided by it, and is still reeling from the blow.

Perhaps there is something about the rhetoric of his culture that minimizes the exaltation of sexual love, relating it too exclusively to law and duty, downplaying its delirious joy, leaving the members of that culture defenseless when the real thing emerges or re-emerges in their lives.

When it comes to adultery, I'm agin' it -- I don't see it as a "pecadillo" but as a profound, existentially crippling moral failing . . . yet at the same time less about the sex involved than about a violation of trust that can almost literally rip the heart out of a partner. No amount of personal pleasure or fulfillment can justify it, but you need to have a healthy appreciation of just how much personal pleasure and fulfillment it can deliver to know what you're up against when it presents itself.

I don't think Mark Sanford had a clue. In his e-mails to his mistress he sounds like a lovesick and somewhat bewildered teenager. How did he get to the age of 49 in that condition of emotional immaturity?

The particular "failing in the right wing Christian culture" here is a view of sin as merely the violation of a moral law ("God's law," to use one of Sanford's favorite terms) with little or no emphasis on the larger problem of depravity being the natural state of the fallen human condition. This is an essentially Pelagian view which reduces repentance to little more than saying, "I'm sorry and I'll try to do better next time." There is no need for divine grace, just a more earnest human effort to try harder to stay out of trouble. But trouble will always find you if you rely on your own strength, rather than on the grace of God alone, which awakens true repentance and a radical change of heart and mind.

Pop culture evangelicalism is hardly the monolithic monster so foolishly feared by the cultural left. Its minimalist expression of the faith will never transform even one individual, much less an entire culture.

'Tis the Season for Barry and His Marauding Band of Barristers

Barry Lynn of Americans United for Separation of Church and State is one of those "Reverend" types for whom the title serves no purpose except to legitimize a cause which a little over a generation ago would have been considered spiritually vacuous and legally frivolous. Lynn can be seen frequently as a talking head on many a cable news show. He's not one to wear a clerical collar. He prefers instead the suave, debonair look of the business suit so as to make himself virtually indistinguishable from the army of lawyers his and similar "civil liberties" organizations send forth into every village, town, and hamlet across the country this time every year. This marauding band of barristers is dispatched to look for manger scenes and other public reminders of the religious overtones of an otherwise overly-commercialized Christmas season.

It is difficult, if not impossible, to get around the fact that Lynn is a walking, talking contradiction: an ordained Christian minister who has devoted his life to the elimination of all public displays of the Christian religion. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the good "Reverend" may have convinced himself that his mission in life is to rescue Christianity from the trivialization which inevitably results from its being woven into the fabric of American Civil Religion. But such an attitude, in and of itself, betrays a humanistic worldview which is inherently hostile toward a genuine expression of the faith once for all entrusted to the saints.

Christmas, of course, is more than just manger scenes on a public square. The fact that Lynn and his secularist allies feel "threatened" by the presence of such symbols in front of City Hall bears witness to the larger reality.

A manger scene in front of City Hall is more than a mere holiday decoration. When Mary and Joseph sought lodging in Bethlehem, they could find only a smelly old stable. The Savior of the world had to settle for a cattle stall as a crib. The fact that his birth is now commemorated on the front steps of many a seat of municipal government is testimony that the little Child born in that stable over 2,000 years ago is King of kings and Lord of lords, sovereign even over the supposedly "separate" realm of secular government.

Here is the real reason Barry Lynn and his minions get so out of sorts whenever they see Mary, Joseph, and the Baby taking up residence in some place other than the Bethlehem stable. Jesus' claim to absolute Lordship is the death knell for the phony cause of "separation of church and state." For the same Lord is Lord of the church as well as the state. For both church and state have been ordained by God and serve his purposes, and his purposes alone, in the redemption of his creation. There is no power on earth, least of all Barry Lynn and his bevvy of barristers, who can separate what God has placed together under the Lordship of Jesus Christ.

The Silly Face of "Public Faith," Revisited

With the political conventions kicking into full swing, we're going to be barraged over the next few weeks with a whole lot of nothing masquerading as something. That being the case, I think it timely to re-post some previously shared observations.

True to its namesake Greek orators who perfected it many centuries ago, public discourse has never actually ascended above the level of sophistry. History has marched on; nations, kingdoms, and empires have risen and fallen; wars have been fought and won; but the debaters babble on in the vain hope that someday they will solve all the world's problems by the sheer force of the melodic intonations of their vocal emanations.

Contemporary sophists, known rather unflatteringly as "pundits," complain that the level of public discourse has now reached a new low. But a quick review of political history over the last few centuries would reveal similar sentiments expressed by the "pundits" of old. Public discourse, by its very nature, thrives on conflict. Consensus is the enemy of debate, so the debater of this age, like the debater of every age, not only detests unanimity but actively seeks to undermine it and stir up strife over the most trivial of issues. It matters not that an idea has merit. If it is put forth by a political opponent, it must be debated and, along the way, distorted beyond recognition so as to delineate the party lines and perpetuate the verbal slugfest which, by now, has eliminated any possibility of reconciliation over a question which should never have been divisive in the first place.

When Paul engaged the Greeks in Athens (Acts 17:16-34), he brought his considerable knowledge of the outside world to bear by citing some of their own poets and even acknowledging their religious heritage. But then he reinterpreted their tradition in light of the resurrection of Christ. For Paul, the resurrection was the end of the matter. In ages past, God had let the Gentile world follow its own foolish philosophies, but his truth had never been far from them. But now, through raising Jesus Christ from the dead, God had signaled the time for debate was over and the time for decision was at hand. Not all of them were convinced, but at least Paul got the Athenians' attention.

Contemporary public discourse is perhaps at its most banal whenever religion in general, and Christianity in particular, is inserted into the debate. This is most painfully apparent when opposing non-believers presume to debate the merits of Christianity from a perspective of mutual ignorance. The same should not be true for believers, yet it all too often is. There is a serious lack of substance in what I will call, for want of a better term, "public faith," that is, a particular interpretation of the Christian faith which sees active involvement in the shaping of public policy as a paramount concern. I would even go so far as to say that the face of "public faith" these days is downright silly and, since it is the only version of the faith with which the outside world is familiar, that silly face has become associated with Christianity in general in the minds of many.

The message of Christ and the resurrection overthrew the foolish assumptions of pagan philosophies which saturated the Greco-Roman world. It undercut the whole idea that truth was something that must be sought through logical deduction but could never be fully known. Jesus Christ was not just another way, but the Way; not just another seeker of truth, but the very embodiment of the Truth; not just another example of an exemplary life, but the Life. This was the substance of the early church's proclamation as it spread throughout the ancient world. It is precisely the substance that is lacking today among so many would-be defenders of the faith as they plunge unprepared into the arena of public discourse thinking only that they have something to contribute to the debate, rather than knowing the Truth which can still turn the world upside down.

Back by Popular Demand: Judgment Day for "Me-ology"

Theological revisionism would rob the Christian faith of its uniqueness in many ways. The most obvious are those which get the most attention: the confession of Jesus Christ as the one and only Savior of the world, the authority of the Scriptures in matters of faith and life, and the traditional teachings on human sexuality. But there is another aspect of the faith which is undermined by revisionism which doesn't receive as much notice, but may rank right alongside the Person of Christ himself as the most important.

The church is, first and foremost, the Body of Christ, a community of faith, living in covenant with God, all members living out that covenant faithfully through mutual accountability to one another. The idea of the church being a collection of individual believers is an innovation borne of the radical individualism of some of the later Reformers and carried to its logical extreme with the advent of Enlightenment-era rationalism. Today, revisionists are playing out the tragic end game of this error. Eschewing the mutual accountability of the covenant community, they indulge their own individual passions in vainglorious pursuits of "new truth." Although they carefully couch their language in traditional-sounding terms such as "the trajectory of Scripture" and "the intent of Jesus and the Holy Spirit," the end result is an accommodation to the popular culture that is naive and utterly devoid of theological and intellectual depth.

Betraying their own futile attempt to co-opt the traditional language of the faith, revisionists never seem to tire of using three particular words: I, me, and my. From their perspective, individual conclusions trump 2,000 years of community consensus. When revisionists speak, for instance, about the "emotional" issue of homosexuality, they love to invoke tear-jerking sentiments through such statements as "I am hurting for our church." While this may come across to the casual listener as an expression of selfless concern for the whole Body of Christ, a careful analysis reveals a more selfish motivation.

Revisionists believe that, on issues such as homosexuality, the church has been "wrong" for 2,000 years. But when they try to impose their opinion on the community, they are met with resistance and rebuke. The church simply cannot abandon a 2,000-year consensus based on one person's individual conclusions. When it rejects such individual overtures, it is merely acting the way a covenant community should act, holding one of its own accountable when that one strays into error, hoping that, through love, that person may be restored to the fellowship.

To revisionists who care nothing for the overall good of the community but only for their advancement within it, the church's loving rebuke is taken as a personal insult. Rather than receiving it in the same loving spirit it was intended, revisionists break down and pout, saying, "I am hurting for our church," meaning, "My feelings are hurt because my church won't accept me." Such emotionalism tugs at the heart strings of the rest of the community, causing some of weaker faith to question the church's motives, rather than recognize such cynical manipulation for what it truly is. Therein lies the real danger of revisionism. It undermines the covenant nature of the church by exploiting the emotions of individual members.

"Theology" is too kind a word for this revisionist ploy. A more appropriate term is "me-ology." The revisionists have fallen victim to a dangerous deception and now seek to draw the rest of the church into the same deadly web. They will fail, of course, because the gates of Hell shall not prevail against the church. But pity the poor revisionists who scorn the community's loving rebuke. Their Judgment Day draws nigh.