Lately I’ve been struggling with the idea of Apologetics.
(Hi, by the way. I know I’ve been gone a long time. It’s a very long story, and I may get into it someday, but for now, let’s just move on. Cool?)
You know what I mean when I use the term “Apologetics.” It’s that defending of the Christian faith – that ability to provide an air-tight defense of what Christians believe. Apologetics done “well” usually sound or read like the closing statements of an expensive lawyer. They involve compelling language and hard facts. At times, the detail to which the apologist goes is astounding, parsing phrases and words in order to caulk the edges of his or her defense.
I gotta admit: I’m not a fan.
One of the biggest reasons I struggle with the Apologetics approach is that the Apology is almost never wrong (I almost wrote “never wrong,” but I should probably leave some room here). With enough clever wording and tricky maneuvering, a good apologist can prove almost any point.
To be fair, I’m mostly referring to Christian Apologetics. I think this is where we can observe the dangers of the Apology most readily. Just consider how much ink has been spilled to prove, without a doubt (and to pick a hot topic right now), the existence of a hell – i.e. a literal place of eternal conscious torment. Many good Christians have written millions of words on this very topic, citing Bible verse after Bible verse, building their air-tight case that proves, without a doubt, that hell exists.
Yet so much more ink has been spilled in defense of the exact opposite position – that there is no hell, or that God will save everyone, or that evil people cease to exist when they die, and on and on. And with each of these Apologies, the apologist provides Bible verse after Bible verse, creating his or her own air-tight defense of whatever point of view he or she is defending.
So who wins? The person with the best Apology? Because both are pretty good. Who gets to judge which is best? Me? You? The community of believers?
And that’s my problem with Apologetics. Anyone can defend just about anything and find enough evidence to do so. There’s got to be a better way.
Yes, I’ve had quite the year, and that’s a big part of the reason I haven’t finished my blog series on the Bible and homosexuality.
But there’s another reason. I’m starting to feel like an apologist. I’m starting to feel like an evidence peddler.
“Step right up, folks! I’ve got a bunch of cool verses that prove my point. And check out what I can do here with a little Greek word study. Pretty nifty, eh?”
And honestly, I’m at the point in the process where becoming an apologist is necessary. The kinds of things Paul has to say about homosexuality in his letters and the words he uses are just not normal for us. In short, us and Paul, we’re on different pages on the issue. But that takes some time to explain.
Don’t get me wrong. I want to explain it, and I will very soon. Part of the reason I want to talk about Paul’s understanding of homosexuality is because I genuinely believe, based on theological reflection, that God loves homosexuals, and that a homosexual Christian is not an oxymoron.
So even though I have to get over my current disgust of Apologetics to do it, I will. I just might need a couple more days.
A few weeks ago, I blogged about my hunger and thirst to see justice in relation to the way Christians treat people who identify themselves as homosexual. That blog was just the start. With the next few blogs I write, I want to address some of the traditional objections to my “radical” statement that homosexuality is not wrong and that homosexuals people should be welcomed into the community of God.
I realize my position is not popular, and that, for a couple hundred years, Christians have assumed that the Bible speaks strongly against the homosexual lifestyle. And this assumption has been sold well by the Church. Find anyone you know and ask him or her what the Bible says about homosexuality. The almost unanimous answer you will get is that the Bible is against it. Most people can’t tell you where it’s written in the Bible, but they know it’s in there somewhere. This is probably one of the Church’s best marketed talking points: The Bible says homosexuality is wrong.
But when you take a minute to consider where this idea comes from, you learn that there are about 6 verses in the Bible that mention something close to what we would consider homosexuality. In the spirit of full disclosure, let me say this: I believe the Bible really has very little to say about what we understand as homosexuality in today’s culture, and that the more recent interpretation of scripture that labels homosexuality as a sin does not stand up to proper biblical exegesis. Bottom line – we got it wrong. We misinterpreted scripture, and many people have had to suffer as a result of our irresponsible interpretive practices.
I’d like to take a few blogs to talk about each one, and with the next blog in particular, I’ll address the first: Genesis 19 and the story of Sodom and Gomorrah. My goal with this is to show you that the Bible really doesn’t have very clear teaching against homosexuality. If anything, I want you to walk away from this with an understanding of how complex this issue really is, and that simply saying “The Bible says homosexuality is wrong,” is just not quite fair.
Let’s get going!
A few months ago, I listened to a sermon series on the Beatitudes from Mars Hill Bible Church. One particular sermon by Rob Bell really struck a chord with me. In this talk on Matthew 5:6, Bell was attempting to repaint the idea of hungering and thirsting for righteousness in a way that is more congruent with Jesus’ world view.
Let me back up a little by giving you a quick (and probably lacking) overview of Bell’s approach to the Beatitudes. In short, the Beatitudes aren’t instructions on how to receive the blessing of God as much as they are proclamations of who God sees as blessed. For instance, when Jesus says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” he is not saying, “In order for God to bless you, you have to find some way to become poor in spirit.” Jesus’ point is that God is with the least of these. God is with those who are not spiritually rich. God is not with those who “deserve it,” whatever that may mean. So Jesus is attempting to help his listeners understand this deep truth: God blesses the people whom you don’t expect to be blessed.
Again, Bell is emphasizing that these sayings by Jesus should NOT be used as formulas to earn God’s blessing. To do this, we fall into the trap of a works based theology.
With Matthew 5:6 in particular, Bell explains how he understand Jesus’ words: “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.” For Bell, Jesus is talking to those who have a deep and unquenchable longing to see justice in a broken world. So often, these are people who experience oppressions, injustice, and, well, wrongness. Because of this, they hunger and thirst for rightness, or righteousness to prevail over injustice.
We all have a little of this in our lives. We see oppression, hunger, poverty, and pain in the world, and we want it to be made right. Sometimes we misdirect this desire to situations that don’t deserve such attention.
I have been most guilty of this recently with the whole NBC debacle and their dealings with Conan O’Brien and Jay Leno. I saw what happened to Conan O’Brien as an injustice, and my hunger and thirst for righteousness was temporarily misdirected to that cause. But in reality, Conan is a multi-millionaire. He’ll be fine. He doesn’t need my help. My hunger and thirst was wrongly directed for a time.
But many times, our hunger and thirst to see justice is properly directed. We begin to side with people who experience real and damaging trauma, most often inflicted by those in power, and we ache for them. Sometimes we find ourselves in need of justice, and our hunger and thirst for righteousness drives us to cry out to God for his grace and blessing. In this, we find the words of Jesus comforting. God is with those who hunger and thirst to see God’s justice in a real way.
Now, all of us have different areas where we direct our “hungering and thirsting.” A friend of mine at work has a heart for racial reconciliation, and her desire for justice is most directed there. Another friend sees the poverty and oppression in Latin America and puts his energy and resources to work to see justice there.
We all have our areas where we hunger and thirst.
For me, there are a few areas, but none so great as my desire to see my gay brothers and sisters in Christ accepted into the community of God where they belong. Yes, I know. Not a popular thing to say in some Christian circles. Gladly, I’m not alone, even though it may feel this way sometimes.
In short, I feel the Church has done a serious disservice to a large number of gay Christians who find their identity in Christ and have come to terms with their sexuality. The Church has wrongly interpreted a few vague passages in the Bible in order to condemn what they do not understand, and quite honestly, I can no long stand idly by.
This injustice has to stop, and the wheels are finally in motion. Many devout Christian men and women are beginning to see that, for the last 150 years or so, the Church has gotten it wrong. The Bible does not, in fact, condemn homosexual orientation, and, in reality, the writers of the Bible know nothing of homosexual orientation.
What I would like to do over the next few blogs is to tackle a couple of the more recent “anti-homosexual” misinterpretations of scripture in hopes that I can show where we as a Christian community have erred. I’d like to start with one of the most commonly misunderstood biblical narratives, the story of the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah.
Hopefully you will hear my heart through all of this. I have a deep hunger and thirst to see God’s justice in this world. I have an unquenchable desire to see wrongs righted. And above all, I approach this topic out of love – love for God, the Bible, and my gay brothers and sisters in Christ.
Also, please remember that this is me writing – Jon. Your son, brother, uncle, and friend. I am not being deceived by Satan. I am not trying to justify sin. I am not trying to send the Bible down some slippery slope. I have enormous respect for scripture, so much so that I refuse to allow it to be read at face value. I also have a deep love for God, and I want more than anything else to see God’s will done on earth. And for me, God’s will is that we no longer oppress people because of their sexuality.
I pray that you would come along with me on this little journey. I also understand that you will disagree with me, and that’s fine. But please, hear me out.
A few weeks ago, Fuller professor Juan Martinez stated that all theology is contextual. His statement was in response to a question that referenced the importance of liberation theology in the Latin American culture. Liberation theology, in part, is a contextualized theology that strikes a deep chord with Christians around the world who experience deep social and political injustice. For them a theology of liberation speaks to a God who desires to bring them out of poverty and oppression and bring real and lasting freedom. I hesitate to write too much about the powerful school of thought because this short (well, probably really long) blog will not do it justice.
Dr. Martinez’s point was to critique the common idea that liberation theology is contextualized while “Western” or “Classic” theology is not. Just because a specific brand of theology connects well to people in a certain context does not mean it should be considered “less than” in any way. The reality is that all theology is contextualized, whether that theology finds its roots in Latin America, Africa, Germany, or the US. The context always influences the theological discussion in profound ways.
And there’s nothing wrong with that.
Paul was a master at contextualizing the gospel. In Acts 17, we see two sermons or “techniques” of Paul as he preaches the gospel. The first is found in the beginning of Acts 17:
“After Paul and Silas had passed through Amphipolis and Apollonia, they came to Thessalonica, where there was a synagogue of the Jews. 2And Paul went in, as was his custom, and on three sabbath days argued with them from the scriptures, 3explaining and proving that it was necessary for the Messiah to suffer and to rise from the dead, and saying, ‘This is the Messiah, Jesus whom I am proclaiming to you.’”
Paul is in a Jewish context (a synagogue), and his approach is simple – he reasons with the Jews from scripture (OT) to prove that Jesus was indeed the long awaited Messiah. For a Jewish audience, this message is powerful, convincing, and even polarizing. It is the message they need to hear, and it lands so well for Paul because it is highly contextualized.
Consider Paul’s sermon just a few verses later. Paul and Silas move from a Jewish context to the city of Athens where they soon find themselves in the Areopagus (Mars Hill) surrounded by a mixed audience of Jews and Greeks. Here is his sermon:
“Then Paul stood in front of the Areopagus and said, ‘Athenians, I see how extremely religious you are in every way. For as I went through the city and looked carefully at the objects of your worship, I found among them an altar with the inscription, “To an unknown god.” What therefore you worship as unknown, this I proclaim to you. The God who made the world and everything in it, he who is Lord of heaven and earth, does not live in shrines made by human hands, nor is he served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mortals life and breath and all things. From one ancestor he made all nations to inhabit the whole earth, and he allotted the times of their existence and the boundaries of the places where they would live, so that they would search for God and perhaps grope for him and find him—though indeed he is not far from each one of us. For “In him we live and move and have our being”; as even some of your own poets have said, “For we too are his offspring.” Since we are God’s offspring, we ought not to think that the deity is like gold, or silver, or stone, an image formed by the art and imagination of mortals. While God has overlooked the times of human ignorance, now he commands all people everywhere to repent, because he has fixed a day on which he will have the world judged in righteousness by a man whom he has appointed, and of this he has given assurance to all by raising him from the dead.’”
Here Paul doesn’t reference scripture or mention anything about a “Messiah.” Both would be meaningless to the Greeks in the audience. He doesn’t argue or try to “prove” anything. He takes it back to the beginning and shows his audience that there is one God who created all that they experience. He mentions Jesus at the end of his speech, but not as the long awaited “Messiah” but as the one appointed by God to bring about judgment and, ultimately, restoration.
So Paul is a master of communicating contextually. He knows what message will be most effective with his immediate audience, and he presents in that way. He knows that a Greek audience could not care less about the scriptures and this idea of a “Messiah.” He also knows that his Jewish audience doesn’t need to be told that one God created the world. They already know that.
So with that in mind, here’s an interesting thought: Why do we take Paul’s letters in the New Testament to be so universal and in some way above their context? If Paul has proved himself to be a master of contextualizing a message, why do we think he wrote his letters in a very broad and timeless manner? How many of Paul’s words do we take at face value with out a second thought to how his audience would be hearing those words? And do we really think Paul wrote his letters with the knowledge that people thousands of years later would be reading them without the privilege of hearing the voices of his audience?
My point is that we should think a little harder when we read the words of Paul. Knowing that he is a master at adapting his message to fit the people to whom he preaches or writes, we should take pause before swallowing his theology whole. I know, I know. You’re probably uncomfortable with that statement. I guess I am a little too. But I think it’s important that we see Paul’s theology as being deeply and critically important to his audience, and in the same thought, we need to remind ourselves that we are not his audience.
The other day, I heard a sermon about relational issues, and one of the issues addressed by the pastor was resentment and forgiveness. His approach to the idea of us forgiving others was very similar to approaches I have heard in the past – the basic idea is that we are to forgive as God has forgiven us (much like Paul writes in Col 3:13, “Forgive as the Lord forgave you.”).
Most people speak of a kind of forgiveness that doesn’t involve retribution, vengeance, or even an acknowledgment of wrong doing by the offending party. We are supposed to forgive whether or not the person “deserves” forgiveness and whether or not he or she is sorry. This, as most Christians would agree, is the way God forgives.
But for the first time, when I heard this message, I thought about the complexities involved with this approach. The question i my mind becomes: Does standard Christians theology really say that God forgives whether or not we deserve it and whether or not we are sorry? As far as I can recall, our theology says that anyone coming to God must acknowledge wrong doing (sin) before receiving forgiveness. It would seem that God requires confession and remorse over our sin before God will forgive. At least that’s what our theology states.
So how then do we understand this concept of forgiving as God forgives? I see two ways of looking at it, both of which are problematic to some degree (at least in the realm of orthodox Christian theology).
1. Since God requires the offending party to display some kind of knowledge of wrong doing accompanied by remorse before forgiveness is given, we too should require the same thing. If we are offended, we should withhold forgiveness until the wrong is made right or the guilty party shows remorse.
As soon as I begin to type it out, I see the problems with that line of reasoning. We’re human. We don’t get to deal out justice. That is for God. I get that. But how then are we showing forgiveness like God shows forgiveness? This leads to options 2:
2. God has forgiven all humanity of sin whether they deserve forgiveness or not, and whether they acknowledge wrong doing or not. This is the kind of forgiveness that God has modeled – an unconditional forgiveness – and, in the same way, we are to model this type of forgiveness. When we are hurt, we forgive, whether the offending person cares or not.
Options 2 seems to make a lot more sense in terms of the biblical narrative, our understanding of human nature, and the revelation of God through Jesus, among other things. But there are some problems. Are we OK with saying that all people are forgiven? Doesn’t that sound a little too Universalistic? Is that really a bad thing?
So which is it? 1 or 2? Or could it be both? How about neither?
John seems to think God forgives us when we confess our sins (1 John 1:9), and so does Peter (Acts 2:38). But at the same time, the writer of Hebrews seems to think there is nothing more needed for forgiveness other than the sacrifice of Jesus (Hebrews 10:18).
It’s a little tricky to use God’s model of forgiveness to guide our own. It either means the way we forgive must change, or it means the way we understand God’s forgiveness must change. Or maybe it means both. Or neither. Or maybe I’m just missing something here.
I’ve been having the thought lately that we as Christians have done a pretty good job at making something that was once profound, radical, and deep into something that is cheap and shallow. That “something” to which I refer is really a bunch of somethings: it’s the Bible, both Jewish and Christian tradition, and even God. Am I overstating this? probably, but let me try to work out my point here.
Take, for example, the Creation account of Genesis 1 and 2. Most scholars, both Christian and otherwise, see the Creation poems in the beginning of Genesis as the beautiful expression of a pre-scientific people as they try to explain what they see in the world as it relates to what they know of God. They perfectly and poetically describe the human condition – our tendency toward what is wrong or evil – and they show a benevolent and personal God. This is all compelling and radical stuff! If you take a glance at some other Ancient Near Eastern creation accounts (which pre-date the Genesis account), you’ll find much of the same material as the Genesis account, with a few important exceptions: chief of which is the existence of a good and personal God. The Creations narratives in Genesis 1 and 2 are understood as mythology* – as stories that express deep and real truth.
But many Christians see the Creation narratives in Genesis 1 and 2 as a type of ancient police report. They see a real Adam and Eve, a talking snake, and a literal six day creation. What was meant to be a profound expression of who God is becomes a cheap and shallow historical account of creation (just the facts, ma’am). The beauty is gone, and all that is left are the so-called “facts” to argue. Some people even devote their lives to forcing the poems of a pre-scientific people into objective history. How sad! And, in my opinion, how cheap and shallow!
I know, that sounds harsh. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to say these people are cheap and shallow. What I’m trying to do is stick up for the Bible and for what it was created to be and defend it when people try to make it something it’s not – especially when that something is so small. I’m saying the view these people support is a cheap and shallow view. They see the Bible as a report of historical fact.
Think about that. When a police officer writes a report of an incident, no one cares how poetic he or she is. No one is in awe at how completely he or she grasps the human condition. No one is stunned by this person’s knowledge of and connection to the people involved in the incident. All they need to see are the raw facts.
But this is not the purpose of Genesis 1 and 2. What we need to see when we read these words is the power of God through people who interacted regularly with this God. We need to see how well these people understood the human condition and how serious they portrayed humanity’s need for God. They did not set out to record the raw facts of the Creation of the world. They wanted to show a God who cares and who created out of love, and they wanted to show a human race that leans toward the wrong thing.
With that in mind, Genesis 1 and 2 take on a beauty and reality that is unmatched by historical fact. The stories of Genesis 1 and 2 become, as Rob Bell puts it, our own stories. We have the tendency to lean toward evil. We need a good and gracious God. How cheap and shallow to turn these stories into mere historical facts on a page.
*I understand Christians’ animosity toward the notion of myth, especially as it relates to the Bible. But I think myth is something we need to get comfortable with again. Myth is not bad. Myth does not equal false or lie. Myth, in this sense, is a fictional story that explains a very real truth. I will write more on myth later.
For as long as I can remember, people in religious circles have attempted to identify who the modern-day pharisees are. We read the NT, and there is a lot of negative attention given to this group of religious leaders, so much so that they have become more a caricature than anything else. They are like the villains in an 80s movie – completely evil with no depth to their personalities or character. We think of them as constantly wringing their hands, ready to cry out “blasphemy” at a moments notice, and ready to spill the blood of any radicals.
Because of this, we seem to want to project their characteristics on some group of people in the Christian world today. When we come across some strict group of Christians or some other group that uses heavy liturgy, we’re ready with the name tag “Pharisee!”
I also loved participating in Pharisee bashing whenever I had the chance, and would not pass up an opportunity to label someone (and therefore write them off) as being “Pharisaical.” Lately, I’ve been more hesitant about that. This is mostly due to the fact that often when I was so eager to label someone a Pharisee, I was most focused on a characteristic of my own in that other person, and it was this characteristic that I saw as being Pharisaical, if that makes sense. Another way to say it is that I would never consider myself a Pharisee; only others, even if the very “sins” I wanted to label in another person were second nature to me.
I think what might be better is for us to consider how we make the mistakes that some Pharisees made in the NT.* A big mistake we often make is assuming that God is done working and speaking. So often, we assume that Revelation is the end of God’s word – God does not speak anything more. Now, I know most people would not go so far as to actually say this, but I believe most people live this way. Nothing new can be said beyond what the Bible addresses. This is seen in the way so many people hold the Bible above all else – including the Holy Spirit inspired community of believers. It’s as if we think God does not want to continually be revealed in our presence. God was revealed in the Bible, and that is enough.
This is one of the more grievous mistakes the Pharisees made. They could not see that God was doing a new thing. They held tight to their tradition and practices and would not recognize God’s active hand in the world. In fact, they felt so strongly that God could not be working through Jesus and the disciples that they had them killed. Their inability to see God’s continued revelation beyond their own scriptures and traditions led to very serious consequences for those who promoted the new move of God.
How do we make this mistake? Are we ever approached with an idea that challenges us and makes us uncomfortable, and we choose to “put it to death” because it is against our tradition? Do we revere the Bible more than the living word of God and the active Holy Spirit? Have we become so good at “living” and “perfecting” our religious motions that we can’t see God’s revelation anymore? I hope not.
So who are the modern-day Pharisees? They are you and me; or, rather, their stories could be ours if we don’t guard ourselves from making their mistakes.
*I say “some Pharisees” because there are several Pharisees in the NT narratives that were quite noble in their response to Jesus and the early Christian movement. For example, consider Nicodemus and Gamaliel.
There are six things that the Lord hates,
seven that are an abomination to him:
gay people, curse words,
Democrats,
sexuality in general,
tolerance,
a person who tries to promote unity,
and happiness.
Wait, that’s not right. Let me double check that on biblegateway.com…
There are six things that the Lord hates,
seven that are an abomination to him:
haughty eyes, a lying tongue,
and hands that shed innocent blood,
a heart that devises wicked plans,
feet that hurry to run to evil,
a lying witness who testifies falsely,
and one who sows discord in a family.
Oops, I was way off! Hopefully other people haven’t made that mistake.
And now, enjoy a funny picture of a baby.
I inherited a jet pack from my dad. It’s just like the kind you see in the old movies – silver with two little rocket engines on the back. The thing is pretty incredible. My dad tells me that you can fly over 100 mph with this thing. He heard so many stories about his grandfather’s exploits with the jet pack – how he would do circles around Philly and race birds and take his wife for rides. This thing is really cool!
Right now it’s hanging in my garage. It’s been there for years. I’ve never tried it out or really thought much about it, but I know it’s the real deal. The stories are so compelling, and they’ve been handed down through my family for years. I don’t have to take the thing out for a spin to prove anything to anyone. It’s the genuine article.
A friend of mine came over the other day, and I took him in the garage to show him my prized possession. He was impressed! But then he had the nerve to ask me if it really worked. “Of course it does!” I told him. I was blown away that such a good friend of mine would mock my family history in such a blatant way. Needless to say, I don’t speak with him anymore. He’s not welcome in my house.
But I can’t say that his comments didn’t make me think. I mean, I’ve never seen this thing used, and neither has my dad. I don’t know what kind of fuel it takes or how to start it. For all I know, it could be made of cardboard and Elmer’s glue. I guess I could try to see if it works, but in all honesty, that’s just too much work and too scary. I guess I’ll just chose to have faith that the stories are true.
Why do we approach theology and doctrine the same way? We have these “truths” that have been handed down to us through the years, and we refuse to test them. We don’t want to hit them with any hard questions because we’re scared they will just shatter – and if one aspect of our faith shatters, what’s to stop the whole thing from being blown to bits?
Socrates said, “The unexamined life is not worth living,” and in the same way, unexamined doctrine is not worth holding. So take some doctrine that you or your faith tradition holds dear. Hold that doctrine in your hand. Look at it. Study it. Ask some tough questions of it. Find out what the critics of that doctrine have to say and listen to them. See if their tough questions are valid. Maybe they are. Maybe they aren’t. In the end, your faith will be better for it. You will understand why you believe what you believe or you will realize what you believe is not as essential as you thought. And that’s OK. Things change.
With any doctrine or theology, there comes great complexity, and to ignore that complexity and refuse to examine the doctrine or theology is dangerous. That’s one of the things that I would like to do with this blog: talk about the complexities of issues that we take for granted. We always want to push people to take stands on issues – “Are you pro-gay marriage or anti-gay marriage? Are you pro-life or pro-choice? Do you believe in hell or don’t you? Are you a liberal or a conservative?”
Dear God, please help us to be OK with complexity. Help us to understand that you created this world with many shades of color and not just black and white. Help us to be a little less “absolute” and a little more loving, gracious, and connected to you. Help us to be flexible not for flexibility’s sake, but for the sake of the gospel. Help us to stop examining the leaves and start seeing the forest.
Help us to identify doctrine cautiously and with great fear and trembling instead of harshly with no regard for those around us.
Help us to start now.
I read a blog today from a current Fuller student about the Bible, and here is one thing this person wrote:
“We must recognize that it is the Scriptures- not our conscience, not culture, not religion, etc.- that tell us about God and are the foundation upon which Christian thinking is built.”
(I won’t post his name or blog to keep it anonymous)
My thoughts: Why? Why is scripture the only thing that informs our faith? Is that really how it works? What about the billions of Christians who did not or never will have access to scripture? How is their faith informed?
Think about it: The Bible as we know it wasn’t really compiled until around 300 CE, and even then, there were few people who had access to it. There have been a lot of advancements in making the Bible more accessible since then, but the concept of having 10 different versions of the Bible within arms-length is an extremely new concept in the scope of Christian history.
So can we really say that the Bible is the only thing that informs Christian faith? Can we even go further (as the above quote) to say that conscience, culture, and religion have no bearing on how we live our faith? Is that really how God intended it? Did God want us to turn to the Bible for every little thing, or do we truly believe that God gave the Holy Spirit to guide us?
Rob Bell nails it pretty well in Velvet Elvis with his discussion on “Binding and Loosing.” If you haven’t read that, read it… but to summarize, “binding and loosing” is the act of determining a concrete response to God’s revelation. In other words, those who bind and loose determine how the Christian community will live out the commands of God based on God’s revelation. For Bell, it is the community of believers who do this difficult task of binding an loosing with the blessing of God (in light of Matt 18).
That’s kind of a terrible summary of a complicated argument, but the point he makes is that it is the Christian community, based on its interpretation of God’s revelation that plays a large part in how we experience this life of faith.
The Bible is not the sole contributor in this equation. Our conscience, culture, and religion play a big part.
