what if

what if the Gospel is so big that even the people who get it wrong, still get it?



addendum (due to general confusion):

To anyone confused and wondering idly if I'm falling into heresy - some clarifications on this thought that came to me.

in brief, the setting was such: I was reading an LDS ("Mormon") friend's blog (what up, K, if you're reading this!), and she mentioned that her greatest passion was "for the Gospel".

It struck me how, as a Protestant Christian, I - and, I'm guessing, you guys - would say the exact same thing is our passion: the Gospel, the good news that God loves and saves a broken world. But yet we do mean, I think, fairly theologically different things when we say "I love the Gospel".

Then I flipped it - what if I approach the question, not from the angle of "what does it mean when I say - I love God", but from the angle of "what does it mean when God says - I love you"? To whom does He say this? Who can read John 1:12 ("Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God") and rejoice?

This extends to other communities. What about, for example, the Roman Catholic communion? I believe firmly that I fellowship with several Roman Catholic brothers and sisters; I love them, I trust that they love me, and, more importantly, I trust their love for God. I don't know if their doctrine is 100% correct - but I do believe that they are, underlying and interacting with their doctrinal belief, simply in love with Jesus Christ.

It makes me wonder what kind of thing the Gospel is. Is it something that we have to "know about" in order to obtain? I don't think many of us would want to say you have to understand philosophy about Jesus in order to receive love from Jesus - one reason being that this is actually impossible.

Now, when we ask questions about the Gospel, we're still talking about a pretty specific statement. Jeff points out to me that "the Gospel" is objectively defined, shaped by a specific and unique historical context.

My point isn't to be a universalist - saying, everyone, everywhere, is loving God. That's too broad, and it just rings untrue. That's not what I mean when I say, "getting it wrong."

What I do mean when I think about us "getting it wrong" is that I wonder what role knowledge and doctrine play in our love of God. God not as an abstract, nonspecific, vague concept, but God as a real, all-loving, all-powerful, incredibly present being whose presence and direct intervention is found throughout the world and human history. I think good teaching is vastly important - but even good teaching gets some details wrong sometimes. Does Jesus still love us when we make mistakes when talking about him?

...

This is meant to be a rhetorical question. The answer, I believe, is Yes.

But this begs a further question: "how many mistakes can we make, and still be talking about Jesus?"

And this is a very real question.

It's a big question: Which details matter? If you and I are both talking about our favorite cars, and I mention mine - the Mazda RX-7 FC3S - I might be picturing a white car, while you picture a red car. No big deal - we're still talking about the same thing.

But if I talk about an RX-7, and you picture a VW bug, or a horse, or a birthday cake, we're on pretty different pages. That's become a conversation whose details are so disconnected that it's not even a conversation "about" RX-7's any more.

And that's a question whose answer comes into focus when we humbly examine Scripture, seek God in prayer, listen to our mentors/disciplers, and so on.

bene dicta, magister

It's 8:34 AM, and the streets of Ilsan are covered in a fine mist, rendering the pavement slick and slightly cool. Passing cars and buses scatter the puddles, tossing minute particles of water two or three feet into the air.

I'm out for a morning jog. Sequestered for the night earlier than I had planned, thanks to the compound effects of jetlag (despite my casually swaggering boasts of having grown accustomed to international travel, I am still impacted by the long reach of geography) and an afternoon spent out with friends, I woke at 5 AM. Completing some long-overdue tasks and emails, I decided to head out for a run, to clear my head and stretch some sorely-neglected muscles.

As I run, my mind drifts; 36 hours ago, when I was a knotted bundle of anxious tics: would my luggage clear through San Francisco onto my Seoul flight? Would the laminar plywood of my forcibly-checked skateboard (intended to be carry-on baggage) crack under the shifting mounds of luggage deep in the hold? Would my computer, with its finicky wireless connection, work in Korea? (Yes; No; Yes.)

My mind worries back and forth; 2 months ahead, with a host of invented complaints and light neuroses: will I grow prematurely bored of a repetitious summer, as I did my second summer in 北京? Will my students respond, grow, respect in the same way that they did (or did not) last year? How ought I - how must I - speak to them in such a way as to grasp at their attentions, or earn their mustered approval? What does it mean, to speak well?

The Benediction is the closing prayer of the Christian worship service, the opportunity for the presiding clergy to invoke the grace, mercy, love, and care of God for the congregants. Its roots: bene + dictio, which serve as a verbal phrase: adverb + verb: to speak well.

Context. One of the fundamentals which I've already begun drilling into my students, with which they will be well - and perhaps frustratingly - familiar by summer's end (or so I hope). What is the context of a speech made well?

My thoughts flow: a story. Bono, gregarious and irrepressible frontman and lead singer of U2, got his name from a music shop in his Irish hometown. He and his gang of youthful, gregarious, irrepressible friends used to hang around in the streets, staging absurdist plays and existentialist physical comedies. On one of the streets lay a music store, Bonovox; and so his mates began playfully referring to him as Sir Bonovox. The young Paul David Hewson disliked the moniker, at first, until he discovered the latinate roots of the word: Bono + vox, adjective + noun: good voice.


Actions speak louder than words. - American Proverb.


It occurs to me, that the phrase, "speaking well", possesses in itself two meanings: transitive and intransitive. To speak well, intransitively, means simply to speak skillfully or convincingly. "He speaks well", as synonymous with "he's a good speaker."

To speak well, transitive: in this case, however, speaking well of another. "He speaks well of her," as synonymous with "he praises her" or "he admires her."

My life is, of course, ostensibly one endowed with a career of speaking well of another: the most beloved condensation of the Christian creeds, to me, is the old chestnut, "To know Christ and make Him known". To proclaim Him; to speak well of His love for me. And it occurs to me, that, in this case at least, the transitive and intransitive uses of the verbal phrase dovetail: to speak well to those with whom I am surrounded for the summer, the most purposeful preparation is, quite simply, to speak well of the one with whom I have grown - am growing - more and more acquainted.

in nomine patri, et filii, et spiritus sancti

Authority

"They went to Capernaum, and when the Sabbath came, Jesus went into the synagogue and began to teach. The people were amazed at his teaching, because he taught them as one who had authority, not as the teachers of the law."

(Mark 1:21-22)

Authority: "The power to enforce laws, exact obedience, command, determine, or judge", from French, autorite, "book or quotation that settles an argument," (c. 1230), from
Author: "One who sets forth written statements," from Latin, autor, "father", "one who causes to grow," from Latin, augere, "to increase".

So, authority, at least in some vague etymological degree, means the power or quality of the father. ehhhhh

[Xanga] A misinformed foray into the camp of Greek.

Especially around this time, people are always talking words about "Peace on Earth and goodwill towards men." But yo, straight up now, tell me, is that necessarily Biblical? The phrase itself, "peace on earth," appears only once in the Bible, and in this far different context: hink not that I am come to send peace on earth. I came not to send peace, but a sword. For I am come to `set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law.?(Matt. 10:34) (a verse that is, in itself, highly misunderstood and quoted. Jesus is not a justification for theologies of Empire, people).

Rather, the verse that most people are quoting is this, Luke 2:14: "Glory to God in the highest, And on earth peace among men with whom He is pleased." Nothing about peace on earth, but rather, peace among men on earth. And which men? Only the ones "with whom He is pleased"?

Whaaat?

Nah it doesn't have to be all like that though. Let's go back and break it down. The Greek of Luke 2:14 says this: "doxa en uyistoiV qew kai epi ghV eirhnh en anqrwpoiV eudokiaV."

The first three words are the phrase "glory in the highest", then "qew", that is, the dative of God, "for/to God," so, "Glory in the highest for God," or as it's usually translated, "Glory to God in the highest."

"kai" simply means "and".

"epi ghV " means "on (the) earth".

So, so far what we have is: "Glory to God in the highest, and, on the earth...". Now we fill in the last part, the big part that we're looking at: "eirhnh en anqrwpoiV eudokiaV."

"eirhnh" is a nominative, a subject, meaning "peace".

"en anqrwpoiV" is a prepositional phrase: "anqrwpoiV" is another dative, "for/to men," and "en" is a preposition whose meaning, when combined with a dative is "with", so these two words mean "with men".

"eudokiaV." This is the big one. It's a genitive singular adjective, with the base, "eudokia", meaning "will, choice, good will, benevolence, delight, favor, or desire". And it might be a descriptive genitive, modifying "eirhnh": "Peace, that of good will/favor". It might also be a genitive of means, "Peace, by means of good will, with all men." It might be one of twenty other things, man, the genitive crazy on its different uses. But the point is, it's very possible, if not likely (as far as I understand, which is highly limited) that this "peace on earth, among men" is not as broad or general as we might, in our quieter moments, desire.

I guess all that I'm saying is that we have to be real careful, as Christians, when talking reckless, running our mouths about "peace on earth." Because that is not necessarily what God, through the sacrifice of His Son, has brought about: He brought about peace on earth "en anqrwpoiV eudokiaV." And without a clear understanding of that latter phrase (which will not only rely on careful Greek, but also thorough and mature understanding of other parts of Scripture), one must be very careful when hoping for "peace on Earth," lest one's thoughts turn from "peace on Earth" to the "peace of Earth" (John 14:27).