The Son: Episode 1

     I (Tim) am the only one posting today. Peter has lots of classes and has to work the overnight shift tonight so he is using the in-between times to sleep rather than blog. He apologizes for his absence, and he will be back on Friday. He would like to say that he felt chapel was decent, and there were two things he wanted to say about it: that he was “excited for Christmas because she mentioned the manger, and excited she asked us to be thankful rather than asking God for something in the prayer.” I agree with him wholeheartedly regarding both these comments.
     Unfortunately, I would have to say that those two things were the highlights today. Having already discussed the Father in the series on the Trinity, today we moved on to the Son. We were regaled with stories of the greatness of the previous messages about the Trinity – a greatness which, except for one case, eluded me. I tried to keep my mind and heart open for what we were to hear, but it didn’t work too well. Some of this had to do with the overall chapel experience, and my apologies, but I have to rant for a moment.
     I realize some people are more expressive than I am. But it’s possible to be disruptively expressive in public worship. I had the misfortune of sitting in front of a groaner today. Now, I appreciate that this individual was probably really into the prayer. And I’m glad she was. I don’t mind an “Amen” here and there; in fact I kind of enjoy it. However, it is not only distracting, but makes me very uncomfortable to hear “mmm! yes!” accompanied by groans, moans, and grunts after every sentence of a prayer. It is just really hard for me to focus on God when behind me, I hear a succession of passionate moans that can sound like something that belongs elsewhere. Now I don’t mean to suggest that people shouldn’t throw themselves fully into prayer. But if you’re a groaner, I beg of you, please, please, please, remember that you are not alone in your room and be considerate of those around you. Sometimes it is not conducive to worship for the rest of us. I think this experience soured my mood because afterwards, I felt especially cynical about the whole of chapel. I honestly do appreciate the attempt that was made, but I just didn’t think it was tremendously useful.
     Her two main points were that Jesus left heaven for us and that Jesus is always with us. She talked about the time when it really struck her that Jesus had left the glory of heaven for us. She was reading John 17 and for the first time, that knowledge went from her head to her heart. Only when we really know with our hearts what he gave up will we really get Jesus. The second point was that Jesus has been tempted and tried just like us, but he was obedient. He is always with us and, like he was dependent on God and obedient, we need to be as well.
     I have no objection to these points, but I have heard these things hundreds of times. She knows that, and even brought it up. But knowing it in your head doesn’t do much. So, she said, “let’s get it from our heads to our hearts.” Yes, that’s what needs to happen, but I don’t think that telling us to do so is really going to work. I have had those moments where something really strikes you and suddenly something that you’ve known or believed for many years is real to you. But it never happened because I sat in the pew and willed it to happen with all my might. I may as well sit there trying to grow wings and fly away. It’s just not something that happens on command. At least for me, it tends to happen when I experience it or when I hear some sort of moving experience of it that someone else had. That’s why I like personal stories and such in sermons – something that was lacking today.
     Again, maybe I’m hard-hearted, but I feel like this could have been a great message if some actual effort had been made to engage our hearts. But instead, it felt more like an attempt to pound the same old things into our heads, hoping that if we pound hard enough, something will give way and they will fall down to our hearts. I’m just not convinced it works that way.
     The good news is that Mary Pawlenty is speaking on Friday. She came last year and was excellent. I can’t wait!

4,000 Roses and Enough Love to Go Around

We apologize for the lateness. And for there probably being more typos than normal. We got a little lazy on the editing... But here it is! :)

Peter:
    There was a guest speaker today, who was, I think, perhaps the best speaker to date for chapel.  I won’t spend much time on this blog, mostly because she had a simple and straightforward message, one heard before, but still meaningful: God’s gift was meant to be given away.  She stated that God’s love was unfathomable and that it is meant for us to give away.  You could reference Matthew 5:15, you don’t light a lamp and hide it under a bowl.  I’m shy, and I don’t like talking to people I don’t know, but if you let God work in your life, situations for you to display God’s love to your fellow man will present themselves.  There are two specific ways which God has blessed me with being a witness to others.
    First, He has blessed my life as a whole.  Just living in God’s love is visible to others, and I live with no regrets.  I leave nothing on the table, and I live as much for others as I do for myself.  I’m not perfect in this respect, but I try, and God uses what he can.  Multiple times in my life, and as much credit should be heaved upon my parents as possible, but multiple times either I or my parents have been approached asking why it is that I or my siblings are different.  In a Japanese culture lacking God’s witnesses those of us who live for Him do stand out, and it is a way to spread the gospel.  As the saying goes: ‘preach the gospel, and if necessary, use words.’  Lest one uses this as a cop-out for actually talking about God’s love, you should know that when you live for God it usually involves communicating directly with others at some point.
    God has, especially in recent years, blessed me with opportunities for this as well.  There’s the story of when I was in Lithuania and I was sitting at a table in a bar, and I had a cross necklace on.  A man came up to me, and because he knew I was an American, and because I was wearing a cross he assumed (correctly) that I was Christian.  He then started talking about the various experiences he’d had with Christianity either through going to a catholic church or through reading part of the Bible.  We went outside and had a great ten minute conversation where I told him why I believed why I did, and why he saw what he saw in the church and in the Bible.  Another time, also in Lithuania I got into an hours long conversation with a confessing agnostic about life, the universe, and everything, really.  It started out merely as me editing a paper, and from there it exploded into a conversation of philosophical, ontological, theological, and any other –icals you can think of topics.  It was there that I was also able to share the reasons for my beliefs, and I don’t know how God’s used that conversation in particular, but it’s this and many other instances like it which convince me that yes, God indeed does intend for His message to be communicated in Jerusalem, Judea, in all of Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.  Knowing this is what my parents do for a living makes me that much more proud and blessed to have them as my parents, and I thank God for them, for His Word, and for His boundless love.

Tim:
    I walked into chapel today wondering who was going to speak. I still am not really sure who the speaker was, but she was possibly the coolest ever! Her name was Lisa, and I didn’t catch her last name. I think she was somehow connected to the Urbana missions conference. Before I talk about that, though, I want to say something about the music and some observations I made during the worship.
    I am probably the least musical person in the history of the world. I cannot sing, I am essentially tone deaf, and I can’t even clap to a beat. Thus, in my years at Bethel, I have proven incapable of learning new songs. Apparently the only songs I can remember are the ones I grew up singing. So, when we sing songs I know, I get excited. Hence, I was absolutely thrilled when we sang “Be Thou My Vision.” I don’t know if it’s because I grew up singing hymns in church and it brings me back to the old days, but for some reason, I just love them. They’re great and there’s something about them that seems so profound. Anyway, this got me really excited, and things were only to get better.
    The speaker was phenomenal. I will confess that my opinion is probably rooted more in my excitement about the speaker herself than over what she said. I think she could have said almost anything and I would have loved it, though. Why? Well, after she uttered her first sentence or two, I thought, “wow, she sounds like she could be Filipino!” And a few minutes later she revealed that, in fact, she was. I don’t know what it is about hearing Filipinos speak, whether in English or their own languages, but somehow it calms and excites me simultaneously. It just makes everything feel right. I guess the sounds of childhood can do that. So, I slipped into my happy place and soaked it all in. Not only did she have good things to say, but she was funny and engaging.
    She told the story of how her son purchased, I think it was, 4,715 roses for his girlfriend when he proposed – one for each day he’d known her. She thought her son was crazy and wondered how much this cost him. But she didn’t ask him because she knew he was in love – “crazy love,” she called it. People do crazy things when they’re in love and they just have to share it. It doesn’t matter how much it cost because he was expressing something more important.
    She brought up the story of the woman who washed Jesus’ feet in perfume. This, I thought, was quite refreshing. I feel like (and I realize that this is not the intended message) a lot of what we hear at Bethel often echoes what the disciples said when they condemned the woman, suggesting that her money would have been better used to help the poor. I have felt like I’m being told that I don’t love Jesus if I don’t devote all my time and resources to helping the poor. I’m not trying to say that the poor don’t matter, I’m just saying it was nice to be reminded that Jesus values other expressions of love, too.
    Anyway, she essentially called us to spread the gospel – God’s version “crazy love” – with the world. Just like it seems a little crazy (yet awesome) that her son would by 4,000 flowers, it seems crazy that Jesus would give up his rights as God and die for us. We, in turn, are meant to show his love to our neighbors, no matter who or where they are. It was really a simple message, but refreshing. I really enjoyed it. She seems like someone who has embraced God’s love. It emanates from her and this whole chapel inspired me to strive for the same thing. It was just a spectacular experience. Another excellent chapel.
    By the way, does anyone else want to go to Urbana?

Father God

            Peter: Steph Williams!  Is what I heard for days leading up to her speaking.  Sadly, I didn’t realize who Steph Williams was until she got on stage whereupon I noticed she was the RD for Heritage.  I don’t think I’ve ever said a word to her before nor her to me, but many of my friends spoke well of her, so I was anticipating a good chapel.  I was not disappointed.  She spoke coherently, as well as sincerely of God the Father, as the Father was her given topic to speak on.

Her main point was that we should deconstruct our concept of fatherhood to better understand the perfect fatherhood of God.  While I disagree with the explicit statement-- I don’t think many of our concepts of fatherhood are inaccurate, merely unmet in our biological fathers-- I must say that she brings up a very good point, in that God extends beyond our typical concept of father.  Steph attempted to drive her point home, that our concept of ‘father’ was an insufficient one by having those with fathers who mistreated them, or those fathers who weren’t there growing up for whatever reason, or those who didn’t have the best relationship with heir fathers, stand up in chapel.  Then she told those who had ever been disappointed by their fathers for whatever reason at any time to stand up.  To be honest I was shocked at the fact that I appeared to be the only one still sitting.  I realized then how very blessed I am to have such a perfect father.  Steph said having such a father was ‘impossible,’ which would make my father Peter Graves.  Honestly, I racked my brain, but couldn’t think of one instance where my father disappointed me.  Ever.  Even in disagreements it was always clearly apparent to me that I was dearly loved, and I never remember getting into a fight with my father, ever, even when we did disagree.  So I cannot fathom what it would be like to not have a perfect father much less a father in God better than my earthly father.  My father never failed to love me and to direct me to God, it was never about my father, it was never about me; it was about God. 

But back to chapel.  So I was sitting there wondering at the awesomeness of my father, and how it was that God could be more, and Steph brought up a good example of how much our heavenly father loves us, and that was by drawing the example of adoption by Roman law.  According to Roman law (according to Steph) it was legal for a father to disown a son, unless he was an adopted son, in which case there was no legal way for the master of the household to disown him.  In a way, she said, that was what God did for us: He sent his Son to die so that we may gain an inheritance as Children of God.  That kind of love is just one example of how God’s fatherhood extends beyond our typical institution of fatherhood.  Even though there were statements she made such as ‘as long as children are underage they’re basically slaves,’ ‘we need to project onto God who he is,’ and ‘Bethel tells us we’re the only one who ever had a problem’ (definitely not true), she didn’t dwell too much on any of these in favor of depicting how God’s love for us as children is profound, which it is.  And like I said in my previous post, God’s Love is, I believe, the ultimate message of the Bible, Christ, and of God himself, so whenever somebody emphasizes God’s love I’m pretty appreciative.  Two thumbs up.

Tim: It seems that so far this year, Friday is the day for stellar chapels. Steph Williams spoke, and she has long been one of my favorites. I don’t know if it’s because she’s been an RD for several years and is very familiar with students or what, but her messages are always great. She talked about the God the Father, with an emphasis on how our concept of the Father is different depending out our context. She did a couple different things with that but I felt like the main thrust of her message was addressed to those who grew up without a father or had a bad relationship with their fathers. She said essentially that we need to do our best to avoid projecting our earthly father on God, and let him show us who he really is. To illustrate that idea, there was a guy painting over a painting of a father, leaving a clean canvas, on which God would draw his own picture of himself. Only then could we know him and what he thinks of us. Through that, know ourselves and could then best worship God for who he is. I got a little lost in that flow of logic, but I think the main part of it makes sense.

I don’t know Steph Williams personally, but I’m thrilled that she’s at Bethel and that she takes the time to speak to us from time to time. She doesn’t just talk to us, she engages. She’s open about her own experiences, both good and bad. She makes me (and I think a lot of students) feel like she knows us and we can know her. I think she should speak at more chapels.

More than anything else, today’s chapel produced a profound thankfulness in me. I feel like I wasn’t really the intended audience, because I didn’t grow up having little or no relationship with my dad. But I know a lot of people haven’t been as blessed, including some of my close friends. Having seen how hard it is growing up without a father, I am extremely grateful that she gave the talk she did. And for one of the first times in my life, I was actually happy with an audience participation element! She asked all those who grew up without fathers, whether literally or just with no relationship, and anyone who has friends in that situation to stand up. I stood, because I have a good friend whose father passed away. Just like she intended, it was a comfort to know that my friend wasn’t alone in her loss. As I stood there looking out at all the others who were standing, and really throughout the whole message, I couldn’t help but to think about was how blessed I am to have grown up with my father.

While she talked, she mentioned something that hit home to me and again made me realize how blessed I am. She pointed out that as we grow up, our identities are shaped largely by our parents. What they say about us, whether they have time for us, whether they enjoy our presence, and so on, are crucial to our ideas of ourselves. She was suggesting we let those things go which have taught us negative views of ourselves. Instead we need to let God tell us who we are without the interference of others. I agree, but I just want to acknowledge the positive side of the same coin.

I was blessed with awesome parents whose actions did frame a lot of my identity. But I think the messages I got from them are much like the messages God wants me to get. They were not a hindrance, but an asset to learning who I am in God’s eyes. After two decades of living with me, it’s still easy for me to see the joy in my parents’ eyes when they see me. I see how proud they are of me, even when they have no reason for it. I’m so grateful to and for my parents, because they have shown me God in their relationship with me. I’ll never know what it would be like not to have an earthly father that reflects my heavenly Father, but I hope my blessing will flow over into the lives of those less fortunate.

As a final remark, let's not forget the great responsibility fathers have to show their children the love of the heavenly Father. And let’s never take that for granted. A sad many people in this world grow up promising themselves “I’ll never be like my father.” I have grown up praying and hoping and dreaming that one day, I WILL be like mine.

The Prodigal, the Father, and the Tooth Fairy – 9/16/09

Tim:

I’m going to mix it up a little bit today and put my contribution first, for no apparent reason. Also, we tried to keep this one shorter because we realize no one wants to read pages and pages of our ramblings every day. So here it is, hopefully we weren’t too long-winded…

I didn’t have super high expectations for chapel today, and they were met. Matt Runion spoke about the prodigal son. Now, I like Matt, and I’m pretty sure he’s the coolest guy in the Campus Ministries office. I have to say, though, his talks don’t generally do much for me. But, he always shows pictures of his family and tells stories about his kids and they are so great! My favorite part of today’s message was his story about his son and the tooth fairy, which was awesome. I’m not really sure how it connected to his topic, but I’m delighted to have heard the story.

Speaking of the topic, it was again supposedly the Trinity. But again, it didn’t really fit. This seems to be becoming a theme. After telling us how we can’t separate Father, Son and Holy Spirit and talk about any of them without the other, he set out to do so. His goal was to talk about the Father, in particular. He did so through the story of the prodigal son. According to Matt, the main idea that Jesus is trying to portray about the Father through this story is that of waiting. I wasn’t quite sure what to think of this, and I don’t think he was either, because by the end the message had changed to “God is enough.”  Mostly, it was just a rehashing of the story, with Rembrandt’s Prodigal Son looming in the background.

In his review of the story, he said something that I’m pretty sure I have heard before, but doesn’t often emerge beyond my subconscious. We don’t generally understand the how drastic the son’s request to have his inheritance was. In fact, to make this demand was tantamount to wishing his father dead. The appropriate response would be for the father to slap the son across the face backhanded with his left hand – the most humiliating possible way. Instead, the father in this story grants his son’s request. To me, the use of this metaphor in the parable speaks to the relationship God envisions between himself and his people. And if this is the metaphor is the one he chooses to portray Israel’s rejection, how painful must it be for him to be rejected by the ones he loves!

That brings me to something else Matt said, which is that when a parent chooses to love, that parent chooses pain. And it’s true. I know I’ve given my poor parents their fair share of heartache! Anyway, I immediately thought of creation. I have had more discussions than I can count regarding why God created if he knew it would result in suffering and pain. It’s hard to comprehend, but I see the something similar even in the decision of parents to have children. You know you are choosing pain, hard work, anger, rejection, worry and fear. But still, people invariably make that choice. Apparently something about the relationship makes it worthwhile. I don’t know how well that applies to creation, but maybe it does. I tend to think it might.

He concluded by claiming that the ultimate thing Jesus is saying about the Father is that God is enough. The Father is always there waiting for us and he is all we need, we just have to come back to him, even if we’ve “left home” like the prodigal. Or, he said, even if we’ve left home, but no one knows. That struck me, because I think that is what we do more than anything else. We not only wander from God, but from our own parents and family. Not only have we left and found ourselves alone, but this is compounded by the fact that we have to pretend we never left.  At Bethel we hear a lot about how the tendency to put on a happy Christian face and not let anyone see what goes on other than that. Maybe we should focus not just on “going home,” but on letting those with whom we supposedly live in community help us come home.

In the end, I got the feeling the whole thing was all too lovey-dovey. There was lots of talk about how God loves us so much, he’ll always take us back, and so on. While that’s true, I think what he was trying to get at was the parent-child love, specifically. We can’t really understand that, I think, until we are parents. But we can imagine it. If God’s love looks like a dad who sits on the couch fretting over whether the boy his precious daughter is seeing will treat her right, or like a weeping mother having her infant torn from her arms, I see something a lot more meaningful than “God loves you, no matter what.” What has always struck me about the prodigal son story, at least as it relates to the Father, is the image of him as an actual parent. I think we’d do well to occasionally think of God the Father as, well, a father.

Peter:

Did you know that you need to re-orient your understanding of the Father?  More importantly, did you know that you are a bastion of darkness?  You probably think God is ‘distant and removed from your comings and goings on this earth’, and you should realize the incredibly novel and revolutionary idea that God not only accepts us, that he loves us.  You definitely need to return to and accept God’s loving embrace, or if that doesn’t exactly apply, you definitely need to stop thinking that God’s love is finite, and that he only loves some people, that’s a terrible thing to think… and if you do neither of these, by all means feel free to reject God, break His heart.  You have the freedom to do so, and, well, if you don’t restructure your views on God, or don’t return from your lost and immoral debauchery, rejecting God is the only option open for you.  Gee willikers, I’m sure glad Matt told me God the Father loves me, all this time I thought God was just toying with me, and He really hates me deep down.
            So maybe sarcasm is a little harsh, I apologize.  To be wholly honest I deeply appreciated Matt’s talk, especially considering the previous times I’ve heard him.  He has a tendency to get off topic, but today he actually stayed, for the most part, on topic, and was very coherent.  Moreover, he spoke on perhaps my favorite thing about the Bible: its message of the enduring love of God.  I once had a debate with a group of my high school classmates in Bible class as to what the penultimate goal of God’s kingdom was.  Actually the prompt was if the concept of ‘shalom,’ or peace of God in a utopian kingdom, was the utmost thing Christians should work to, but it escalated, mostly because I disagreed and believe that Love is the ultimate end of Christians, and that it is our duty to see the love of God regardless of whether or not it brings about shalom.  Now, this was a wholly irrelevant debate, because let’s be honest, you can’t separate God’s kingdom, his good and perfect peace, from love.  But hypothetically speaking if you could have God’s love on earth or God’s peace on earth I would say that love is more important, namely because God is love. Besides, God’s peace emanates from His love; therefore His love is not the means to an end, but rather an end in and of itself.  So in the sense that Matt expressed God’s ultimate, good, and perfect love I really appreciated today’s talk, which was based around God the Father.

            The part that made me cringe was the part which is so common among evangelical Christianity.  The assumption that everything about us is wrong: our views, our lives, our nature.  Why is it that speakers say ‘we should do this’, not ‘we should be thankful for this’?  What’s wrong with saying, ‘Thank you God, for your Love that you lavish upon us’?  I mean, I’m not ruling out the possibility that one or two, maybe even a few more people hearing that chapel talk were perhaps going through a bit of rebellion, but it being a Baptist school, with the students have an overwhelmingly Christian background I don’t think anything was convincing, because we were already convinced that God loves us.  I really take issue with people when they say that we have to change our view of God, because they usually go on to say we should change our views to what we already held to be true in the first place.  I don’t agree with the negative rap Christians get from Christians.  Nobody’s perfect, but really?  Not all Christians are spiritually dead hypocrites in need of a speaker to come along and reconvict them of the Bible’s message of love.  This negativity towards all that is human, even in a Christian environment was epitomized in his closing prayer where Runion uttered the phrase: “send your light to fill our darkness,” as if we were the problem with the world.  No, we are salt and light to the world, perhaps an unfinished lamp, but a lamp nonetheless, we should thank God for making us light, perhaps ask him to bless that light, but not ask him to burn a fire.

9/14 – Understanding the Trinity…but not really, because we can’t?

           

Peter:

Laurel spoke today.  I’ve never heard her speak before, which isn’t surprising considering my chapel attendance record for the last three years.  I was impressed for the most part; she had good things to say, or at least seemed to.  The others I spoke to seemed to appreciate her talk as well.  Supposedly today’s chapel was about the trinity.  Not really, perhaps peripherally so, but not directly about the trinity.  Instead she talked about… understanding, knowing, and awe-ing.
            According to an anonymous friend I asked after chapel her thesis was as follows: ‘she said lots of different things, but it was mainly about how we will not ever understand the trinity, but that we should keep trying.’  When pressed as to why we should keep trying there was no satisfactory answer given, but according to me it would be something along the lines of ‘because God is so awesome and He is interested in us.’  Anyways, to briefly run through Laurel’s outline she started out saying that this semester we’re trying to understand the trinity, that there are three components to consider when trying to know God, who happens to be a trinity (tying in the trinity as best I can here), which include understanding, knowing, and awe-ing.  She stated that understanding was being able to conceptualize something, that knowing was to have an intimate knowledge or experience of something, and that the quote unquote ‘awe-factor’ was the fact that God is awesome, more so than we can imagine, and we should be in awe of him.  None of this actually made comprehensive sense at the time, nor was it organized in such a way as to be conducive to a general understanding of what in the world she was trying to really say.  It didn’t help that she started to use interchangeably two words integral to her talk (understanding and knowing), and seeing as she made the statement that we can know but cannot understand God it became too confusing to follow all too fast.  Most people I talked to identified the main point being that we cannot, no matter how we try, understand God.  Seeing as her main points seemed to be very convoluted, and in general not helpful in studying the trinity, I’ll have to talk about something else.  There are two points she made that I found intriguing. 

First, she attempted at the conclusion-ish part of her talk to make a point, I think in response to the ‘what now’ question that inevitably arises when you say you can’t understand something but should apply yourself to its pursuit anyways.  She started to ramble on a bit, but I think I got her main succession of logic, which again, doesn’t make sense to me but it’s intriguing to consider:

1. we have to trust God,
2. that He will reveal himself to us and help us understand or know Him,
3. we should then trust what we do know, which God has revealed to us,
4. and not obsess about what we don’t know. 

What about this succession makes sense?  Trust is a tricky thing.  As one friend explained it, people trust in one of two ways: either the thing/person they trust they trust because of their belief in human nature, or the nature of the world, or they begin as skeptical and allow their trust to be earned through experience.  Now to be very honest I have a hard time trusting God.  I mean, I trust him to figure my life out, but I find it very difficult for me to trust him to help me figure him out.  Logically trust should be based upon knowledge, and Laurel seems to have reversed it.  It intrigues me, and now I’m questioning the relationship between trust and knowledge.  If God is our sole source of knowledge of God, and we can only learn about him with his revelation to us, it’s like me telling you that yes, you can trust me.  I could tell you all these wonderful things about me, but in the end do you trust me?  I could do all these wonderful things for you, but will that really show you my nature, or what I want you to think of my nature?  It’s confusing, and the more time I spend on it the more time I’m sure I know less than I did moments ago.  I will say, however, that I would agree wholeheartedly that understanding and knowledge is of God (1 Jn 5:20 read it).

            The second thing of interest she mentioned is the proverbial box, or bag, or whatever you want to call the great resources of our knowledge or the processes of our understanding.  People, especially Christian speakers have this thing about saying ‘don’t put God in a box.’  It grates on my nerves partly because every speaker who says that have gone on to describe God in their own way, using words just as limiting as any other words anybody else may have used.  I’ve heard it for forever, and I don’t understand.  Let’s assume for the sake of argument that God is helping us to understand him through not only general revelation, but also special revelation, as well as working in and through us.  Why in the world can we not put him in the box which he presents himself in?  God is love, God is good, and God is infinite.  All three of those are definitions, by definition of definition, finite concepts, some paradoxically so, but through these three ‘limiting’ descriptions, God describes himself, and I contend that to understand God in any one of these three concepts is important.  I’m sure there are other concepts which you could categorize God in, such as holy, triune, just, merciful, spirit, and I could go on.  Each of these descriptors by definition limits God, but I would say that is a good thing, mostly because these are how God describes himself through his word.  People also say that the question ‘can God build a rock so big that he cannot carry it?’ is invalid because it is a logical impossibility, and God is logical, they contend he created logic and therefore that is who He is.  I don’t understand how those Christian speakers are not putting God in a box.  I like it though.  To know and understand with the mind is a God given ability.

And this takes me to the point I guess I’ve been avoiding making all along.  I disagree with Laurel.  I believe we can understand God.  Not fully, of course, but can you understand me fully?  Really?  In the previous post I described myself with a number of labels I identify with, and while the definitions of those labels are fluid I submit that they help you understand me as much as the Bible helps me understand God.  I can know my father, my brothers, my mother, and my sisters as intimately as I can know anybody, and I would say I understand them.  Not everything about them, but that goes without saying, and so I contend that I do understand God.  I can comprehend him.  Not fully, that also goes without saying, but I know him as I know anybody who writes a whole friggin book about themselves for me to read, as much as I know anybody whose artwork I’ve seen, as much as understand anybody whose spoken to me, who I’ve spoken to.  Call me blasphemous, but God is understandable, indeed, maybe more understandable than most people or things you know and understand.  He’s revealed more about his nature than I even know about my own nature, and so I could say that I understand God better than I understand myself.  As a sociology student I try my best to understand society, but honestly I think God is easier to understand.  Do you get my point?  People say that it’s impossible to understand God, but that’s merely the paradoxical implication of the definition of ‘understand.’  People can understand God just as easily as anything else.  I don’t understand why the Minnesota Twins play certain players over others, or why they lose when they should win, how can I be expected to understand God any less?  I realize I’m beginning to ramble, but it’s because I guess I’m just fed up with people saying I can’t understand God, like after all he’s done to reveal his nature to us am I really expected to understand him less than anything else?  Laurel mentioned three things: knowledge of God, which I would agree with her, you can know God through intimate experiences with him.  Secondly, she mentioned understanding, which she said was unattainable, which I bitterly disagree with unless she concedes that in the very definition of understand is the clause that it is never complete, and thirdly, she mentioned awe.  She said that we should perceive God awestruck by his wonder; and the craziness that we, insignificant as we may seem to some, are precious to God.  The only thing is, if we cannot understand the unfathomable depths of God’s love for us, how can we hold Him in awe?  If we do not understand His awe-worthiness, what gives us the right to observe God in awe?  I contend that we must understand God before we can hold him in awe: we must understand how limitlessly awesome he truly is before we can honestly behold him unbelievably, in awe.  Do I know everything about God? No, of course not, but I can only state that through understanding my very incapability to know everything about infinity, and beyond.

Tim:

So chapel today was again about the Trinity. This makes sense because it seems to be the theme for the month or semester or year or something like that. I have to say, though, I’m not sure what today really had to do with the Trinity. But I’ll get to that when I get to it.

When we sat down, the first thing we observed was a large fabric screen hanging in front of half the stage. As it turns out, it was part of a pretty cool dance sort of thing. Three guys sang a song that reminded me of Gregorian chants, which I thought was pretty cool. It morphed into the Doxology (“Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow”) and behind the screen three people were dancing, so we could see their somewhat undefined silhouettes. It was cool. I wasn’t sure if the three people were supposed to represent the three parts of the Trinity, but I think they might have. If not, I will pretend they did, because I think it’d be a clever idea.

I think other than the style of music, which I wish we would have more of these days, my favorite part was a line about God caring for his “erring children.” This is something that is close to my heart, because I think it is so important but we tend to forget about it. We focus all our strength on trying to obey God and do everything right. When at first we don’t succeed, we just feel like miserable failures and ponder our uselessness. I think some part of us worries that we have let God down and maybe even angered him. Or maybe it’s just me. Yet, despite the fact that God is routinely referred to as our heavenly Father and we His children, we never stop to think about our relationship with him in terms of an analogy to the family. I don’t know about other people, but if my child made a big mistake, I don’t think I would strictly be disappointed or angry. I would certainly be those things for a little while. But they would be overwhelmed by my longing to see them succeed, not for my sake but for theirs. I would want to help them. I don’t need them to impress me by their abilities; I want to be a part of helping them grow. I am pretty sure it’s the same with God. It isn’t about me trying to do what he wants as much as it is about God and I learning to do what is best for both me and everyone around me. I guess all that is to say that I think we can all use a reminder that God is actually on our team, not in the stands.

After this, Laurel took the stage. I will confess I always feel a little uneasy anticipation when Laurel talks because she’s pretty charismatic and I am not really the hand-raising, hallelujah-shouting type. You will you ever find me prostrate on the stage floor or in the mosh pit for Jesus that sometimes develops in the front rows. But there was none of that. Instead, she announced she’d be talking about the Trinity.  “Ah,” I said. “More of the Trinity.” The last talk about the Trinity had some leaps in logic that I had trouble comprehending, so I hoped maybe this one would be easier to follow. Turns out other than repeating, but not explaining the things said last week, she didn’t actually talk about the Trinity at all.  The actual message for today concerned knowing God. She broke this up into what she characterized as “understanding, knowing, and the awe factor.” From that, it wasn’t too difficult to guess what she’d say, and she pretty much stuck to what I expected to hear. She explained that to understand is to know with your mind, but that the mind can only understand so much. Our finite minds will never fully wrap around God’s infinite being. This, she lamented, has caused many people to walk away from God.

Then she moved on to extol the virtues of “knowing.” Knowing does not necessarily entail understanding. Like we know certain things have happened to us (say, a scab forms when we cut ourselves), we often don’t understand how they happened. So, she said, we can still intimately know God without understanding him. Then, she discussed the “awe factor.” To do this she showed a video of someone (Francis Chan, maybe, or something like that?) talking about the massive size of the universe. He zoomed out from the earth into space, showing earth getting progressively smaller until at 100 million light years, the entire Milky Way was lost in a crowd of galaxies. She then said how the same God that created all that also holds us in his hand and knows our names and cares about us. Now, I will be perfectly honest and say that while that is certainly impressive, I have heard it enough times that it no longer really awes me, except if I’m actually outside looking up at the stars myself.

In any case, she then got to the heart of her talk which consisted of two things, I thought. The first was something of a foundation for the second. First, she noted that understanding and the awe factor were nothing without knowing God. We can understand a lot of intellectual things, but it is quite another thing to connect with and know God. How can we do this?

The second part of her message focused on this question. It is done, she said, through knowing the Bible, the work of the Holy Spirit, and through God’s natural revelation of himself. But, we have to go beyond just recognizing these things, and answer God’s call to partner with him in this thing we call life. Somehow, this was supposed to relate to the Trinity. In my mind, it related to the Trinity only in that she bookended her talk with references to the Trinity. I will confess I was a little flummoxed when, after spending 30 minutes talking (apparently) about understanding the Trinity, she concluded that we can’t understand God, we just have to know him. This was not satisfactory to me, but didn’t bother me terribly as the whole “understanding the Trinity” thing had little to do with the topic in my mind. So I pondered this “knowing” and “understanding” thing.

Several things came to mind. What exactly she means by “knowing” God or his Word? What about those, like myself, who have been blessed (or cursed) with an insatiable appetite for intellectual knowledge and understanding? Along with that, I assume she doesn’t mean that we should abandon attempts to understand, but isn’t that likely to be an implication? And isn’t there some level where understanding and knowledge contribute to one another? Is the pursuit of understanding bound to take us away from God? (I realize she did not claim it would, but I simply follow my mind where it goes).

My musings on these questions aren’t particularly profound, I don’t think. But sometimes it’s easy for us to get lost between what is said and what is meant. When she says “know God,” or really what she said in this whole talk, it feels hollow to me. Why? Partly because we’ve heard it all before and it hasn’t revolutionized our lives. Partly because we prayed the prayers and read our Bibles and we don’t see many astounding things happening all around us. We feel like we DO know God to a degree and have been trying to for years. But despite that, we still feel that the more we “understand,” the harder it is not to walk away.

Could it be that the very dichotomy between “knowing” and “understanding” is artificial and possibly dangerous? If you talk to me enough, you will hear me get on my soapbox and rant about the separation of God from science, history, and even theology. A false dichotomy has been set up over the last couple hundred years between “understanding” and God. It is as if we don’t think God can hold up under scrutiny, so we declare intellectuals to be misguided haters who ought to be ignored. Thus, academia is bound to destroy your faith. I think not. I think it’s certainly possible and happens a LOT. But what if it’s because people’s faith and “knowledge” of God is neither of those things? What if it is little more than a false sense of security provided by a “knowledge” that has been gift-wrapped and passed down from our pulpits and our flannel graphs? When that has to stand up against the mountains of “understanding” that we face in an academic setting, our “knowledge” buckles and collapses. We lose our faith. I don’t think it’s because we haven’t been touched by God and don’t “know” him in some way. Maybe we just don’t understand that we have been touched by him. We have all felt him, and we “know” those things in a very real way, unlike what we often receive from our religious leaders.

The things we DO know in the sense that I think she means are things like pain and emptiness, the urge to help a starving child, and the joy we get from our friends and our hobbies. None of these things involve understanding at their core. I would not disagree with her presupposition that knowing God is a fundamentally experiential and perhaps impossible to understand phenomenon. But, I am afraid that a message like hers can be taken to mean that we should not pursue understanding with our whole being.

That crushes someone like me. I didn’t learn empathy through my intellectual understanding of events, but that understanding certainly shaped and molded the ways I channel that empathy. I didn’t learn joy or pain from a scholar, but I did learn something about joy and pain throughout the human race. And through those things, I learned to realize the potential of my innate knowledge. In the same way, by seeking (and often failing) to understand God, we often complement our knowledge of him. She’s right in saying that we will never fully understand God in an intellectual way. But I think it’s important that we still try. Through that, we may well get to know him.

Overall, I think her message was good. I just hope that people really heard it, because I think it’s something that can easily go in one ear and out the other. And I hope people don’t get caught up in the words, but instead dig deeper than the few things she suggested for how to know God. I agree with her that we need to immerse ourselves in Scripture and seek the Holy Spirit and observe his works and ultimately agree to partner with him in order to know him.

But I think there could possibly be more. Maybe we can also get to know God by applying our innate passions to godly purposes, even if that passion is something like seeking understanding. Also, we also have to remember that we don’t already know God. And that by hearing a pastor who may “know” God, we don’t necessarily meet him. We meet him in our own lives and in the ways that he designed for us. No one else can hand us the type of “knowledge” she is getting at. I hope that I will learn to more fully understand God through my deepest longings, my innate “knowledge,” if you will. And I pray that through a deepening understanding God and my fellow man, our intimate “knowledge” of him will glorify his Name.

And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

 – Philippians 4:7

Afriza 9/11

Introduction: This Blog

Peter: This is to be the first of many chapel blogs. After last chapel I wrote a facebook note reflecting on the session, and Tim Krueger suggested that we co-author a chapel blog… and here it is. I’ll let Tim explain in more detail what exactly is going on with this blog. First I thought I would introduce myself to you, and Tim will have to introduce himself at some point. To use my facebook descriptions I am a Christian, optimist, skeptic, humanist, progressive, idealist, realist, Arminian, open theist, student, and missionary kid. I hold strictly to but a few of these, and the one I most want to emphasize here is that I consider myself a skeptic, not because it is fun to be difficult or something, but I find that I learn best through questioning things, by playing devil’s advocate. I find that being a skeptic fleshes out arguments, brings up new topics, different perspectives. So I may absolutely agree with and love a chapel session, but I will most likely find something to question about it. It’s how I process things, and I submit it is merely that: I’m not disagreeable, I’m just curious.

Tim: Alrighty, my turn. Well Peter already mentioned my existence in this endeavor and so I won’t do that myself. He mentioned that we decided to start this blog, and I want to say a thing or two about exactly why that is before I respond to chapel and to Peter’s comments. Peter and I are blessed to share our lives with a group of friends who we respect and value. Over the last few years we have bonded over late night Wendy’s runs, excursions to Duluth, Ultimate Frisbee games, nights out at Friday’s, sailing adventures, and so on. Typical college activities, I suppose. But what I value as much and maybe more than those things is the meaningful discussion that goes on from time to time. And most of the time, it revolves around a Bethel chapel or similar events. I would like to think that not everything we say is entirely foolish, though most of it may well be. In any case, I have long enjoyed discussing, laughing at, admiring, and overall just sharing our thoughts about a lot of the messages that we, as college students at a Christian university, are hearing. Sometimes we feel that our voices are those of a silent majority and we wish someone would speak up. Maybe this is our silly little attempt to do that in our own way. Sometimes we feel like a minority, and maybe this is our outlet. Sometimes, we just like to talk and reflect. Perhaps more than anything else, this simply reflects our attempts as young Christians to grapple with the messages we hear and reconcile them to the beliefs we hold so dear. My hope is largely that we can just share our thoughts and feelings with a few more of our friends. Or, if no one reads this (which wouldn’t come as a huge shock), it will at least allow us to record our thoughts for posterity.

That said, I’ll follow Peter’s lead and say a little about myself. Myers Briggs would tell you I’m an INFJ – an introverted, mildly idealistic, slightly feelings-oriented person who wants his ducks in a row. It would be kind of right, kind of not. I live on the fence between interaction and insularity, idealism and pragmatism, logic and feeling, frivolity and seriousness, enthusiasm and cynicism. Like Peter, I’m a skeptic, a critical thinker, an idealist and a realist. Also like Peter, I’m a missionary kid, but he grew up in Japan and I in the Philippines. We mention it only because it has molded us and our ideas profoundly. It’s a gift that we hold dear and a rare blessing we hope God will use to bring about his purposes.

I’d like to echo Peter’s sentiments about the nature of our skepticism. I, too, am a cynic. It isn’t because I don’t like things or don’t like people. It’s not because I love being negative. It is because I yearn to understand the people and the world around me, and I find that I learn best by applying critical thinking to the things I’m told in class, in chapel, and by “common sense.” I play devil’s advocate, like Peter said, not to be disagreeable, but because I’m curious. I love to learn, I love to think, and I love to observe. More than anything, I love to pursue God and His wisdom. That’s why I’ve devoted my college career to studying history. Like we learn from those who are “old and wise,” I hope that by engaging thousands of years of “old and wise” men and women, I will come a little closer to seeing God’s truth. I want to tear away presuppositions, structures, and –isms; to reveal the patterns, and feel the pain and the sorrows of my fellow humans. I hope to see God’s beloved creation revealed in its stark beauty and the sin that afflicts us revealed in its ugliness. I hope to understand my neighbors, my God, and His truth.

Maybe I am too skeptical, maybe I’m bitter and jaded – I don’t know. What I know is that we live in a world of brokenness. If I come across as overly critical and negative, it’s not because I love negativity, but because I have felt the joy that makes our hearts skip a beat and the heartbreaking loss of our world. And more than anything, I dream of a world where we will feel the joy of Creator, and I loathe (or at least want to loathe) all that stands in the way. We all live in a world of inner and outer conflict and confusion, of misunderstanding and being misunderstood, of exhilarating joy and heartrending sorrow. As long as brokenness and pain infect this world, I wonder if any of us can even imagine what real contentment would be. Yet, we all yearn for it. This is who I am, too. Enough about me.

That brings me back to the point of this blog: namely that those passions, those discussions, those thoughts and ideas which I (and Peter as well) feel so deeply can be expressed in some way, however feebly expressed or sparsely read. We are blessed to attend a school that seeks to engage such passions and as always, when we care about something, we stand back and reflect. We are young and perhaps stupid and pretentious. But we still feel and ponder, and we share and interact with those who are close to us. But maybe we should go beyond that and, while we may never have any readers, this is merely our attempt to do so.

Chapel 9/11/2009

Peter: That being said, today’s chapel was most enjoyable. Afrizo, I think it was called, a musical team from Daystar University in Nairobi, Kenya sang for chapel and they were amazing. They had various songs, some in English and some in (and here I must confess ignorance) some African language. Perhaps Afrikaans. The part I would like to bring the most attention to however was the part of chapel where, during a song the team leader started to explain what they were saying (it was one of those in a different language), and they were saying “the Lord will fight your battles for you.” Then she started to give specifics: when you have a professor who is giving you a hard time, don’t fight, God will fight for you, when you’re family doesn’t visit you because they live in Chicago, God will take care of your cargo, don’t fight, when your neighbor is on facebook during chapel don’t fight, God will convict them… and she made one more example “today, don’t fight.” And when she said that I couldn’t help but notice the overhead screen of the World Trade Centers in flames with today’s date 9/11, and as her voice drifted back into her language and the singing my mind continued with examples in the same format: when you see searing pain and tragedy, don’t fight, let God, when you see a kid being bullied, don’t fight, the bullies will be convicted… when you hear screaming from a woman being raped don’t fight, God will fight for the woman. When the Japanese attack Pearl Harbor and the Taliban militants attack innocent civilians, God will protect us, and the loss of human life? What of it? God will fight our fights for us, so don’t worry, and don’t fight. That may not be what she was getting at, I don’t know if she is a pacifist, if she ever condones coercion of any kind, either personal, communal, or national, in fact I am as sure as anything that I’m taking her words as they weren’t meant to be taken, but it remains that what stuck out to me was her saying “do not fight, leave it all to God.”

I hate confrontation, and fighting is definitely not my scene, but where do you draw the line?

There is comfort in what was said, but is there truth? How can we relax and let God take care of things when things aren’t being taken care of? To be sure, I’m not saying God has no role in the world, but I also think that it’s odd that we should leave everything to God when He has left us the care of the world. I believe that He works with and through us to accomplish his will, and so if we want to feed the hungry, he will give us the strength to fight for that, and if we wish to protect the members of society from harm He will work through us and bless the works of our hands. But we must fight. I don’t understand how pacifists live with the holocaust. I would say, if you’re having trouble with a professor, fight. If you’re hard-pressed to compromise yourself, fight. If wrongs are done, how can we live with ourselves if we do not fight? Strap on the armor of God, stand for His principles, and fight. This is also, I realize, a troublesome response, when God has asked for all of our cares, has called us to not worry about tomorrow, has told us that we are in the palm of his hand, has told us to love, not hate, make peace, not war, and build, not destroy. Which is why most of this article is composed of questions, not answers. I don’t know, I just don’t see how love can excuse not fighting in some situations. Please, enlighten me.

Tim: So back to chapel, which is theoretically the focus of this blog. Again, I want to make it clear that this is not meant to be a “complaining about chapel” blog. Lots of us have serious, honest questions about a lot of what we are told. Sometimes because we think it’s mistaken, sometimes because we don’t know what to think, and sometimes because we don’t understand it at all. In any case, our goal is not to pick to pieces what we hear, but to express our questions, confusions, and reactions in order to find greater wisdom and understanding. We appreciate chapel and, like Peter said, will probably be able to find something that piques our skeptical interest, no matter how much we love what is said. So now that I’ve said more than I thought I would about any of this, I will move on to today’s chapel.

Today, September 11, was an outstanding chapel, in my opinion. It started with what I thought was a touching reminder of the tragedy of 8 years ago. The theme was “where was God” or something along those lines, and it reminded us that no matter where or what, God is there and in it with us. I think this was meant to be the theme of the service, as it fits with the “God will fight your battles” thing that Peter mentioned. We sang some songs and then our band was joined by a musical group from Daystar University in Kenya. Our band disappeared and this group kept the stage for the remainder of the time.

They were phenomenal. And the main woman was hilarious. She made a number of references to Lion King and related jokes. She got us all clapping (getting us all clapping is quite an achievement, as most of us are both Scandinavian and Baptist). Now, I’m not a great music mind, so I won’t try to describe the singing in much detail, other than to say it was super awesome. Two things really stood out to me today.

The first was in one of the first songs, which was a rendition of the Lord’s Prayer. As per the usual when I hear the Lord’s Prayer, I started to zone out. But apparently I was listening enough to hear “forgive us our sins as we forgive those who step on our toes.” I was like “hey that was cool!” and spent a short time pondering. What do we do when things like the Lord’s Prayer become cliché in our minds and we stop hearing them? I didn’t even grow up on a steady diet of the Lord’s Prayer and still, I automatically start daydreaming when I hear it, even when I consciously try not to. Granted, I am very easily distracted and daydream all the time, but still, why is it that it’s only when I hear something like “forgive those who step on our toes” that it becomes real? And why don’t we mix it up a little more often? Are we afraid to tamper? That’s not to say we should never be afraid to tamper. I think it’s really great when we can hear things in a little different way, and the main singer did that super well in everything she did. It was amazing.

The second thing that struck me was, as always when I’m in chapel, reconciliation. Bethel tries so hard to get us to embrace the message of reconciliation, and I’m pretty sure that this chapel was more effective at reconciliation than all the attempts I heard all of last year. I just sat there watching these women and men from Africa singing and dancing and praising God. And I saw a whole audience of Bethel students loving every minute of it. They were actively appreciating and delighting in a race and culture different from their own. Isn’t that what we want? Isn’t that a huge part of the goal of reconciliation? It brings to mind something I read in one of my classes. Someone I know nothing about named José Beozzo wrote "The glory of God is that...the indigenous cultures should be able to flourish once more, uttering the name of God in their many languages and praising him in the particular genius of their customs, dances and songs."

While I think he was speaking in a more Universalist sense that I’m comfortable with, I love what he says. And I think that’s what went on in chapel today and people loved it. Did we think those singers were less than us because they are a different race or different culture? No, we loved them. And I think most of us do love it, so why can’t we let things like this be a major part of the racial reconciliation process? Because I’m pretty sure it would work a lot better.

Tim and Peter: Probably that’s enough for now. Best chapel of the year, in our opinion. Let us just finish by saying let’s remember all those who died 8 years ago today. And let’s not forget to love in a world so steeped in sorrow that such suffering exists.