Common Grounds Online

Les Newsom, In Praise of...Leviticus?

Of all the convictions that unite Common Grounds readers and writers, it is a hope to speak to the questions being asked by those outside the boundaries of Jesus’ followers that I appreciate the most. Different kinds of questions emerge as we seek to bring insight from Scripture to the skeptic, but are we being a “blessing to the Gentiles” if we refuse to entertain those questions?

Lately, I have noted a handful of persistent questions coming from those watching Christianity from the outside in. First, I keep hearing questions about the Bible’s blood and gore. “Why all the messy need for death and bloodshed in Christianity’s teaching about salvation? Why can’t God just wave his hand and forgive?” Second, I had my umpteenth conversation recently about conservative Christianity’s opposition to same sex relationships. Almost on cue, the comment was offered, “Really? Do you wear a poly-cotton blend in your shirt? Because the Bible forbids wearing a garment that mixes two different kinds of threads.” Finally, our own President during his campaign last summer worked to debunk simplistic understandings of how religion and politics work by saying, “Which passages of Scripture should guide our public policy? [Some] suggest slavery is okay, and that eating shellfish is an abomination?”

Alex Sims; Story, Symbolism, and Speculation

I've often heard (and repeated) that we shouldn't speculate on the Bible beyond what it says. Lately, I'm questioning that statement. I wonder if speculation is an inescapable and even beneficial aspect of biblical interpretation, provided that it's done with humility.

I'm intrigued by the number of references Paul makes to the Old Testament that would strike me as speculation if I didn't already know that the Holy Spirit inspired Paul's every word. For instance, when discussing Abraham's two sons, Paul says in Galatians 4:24-26:

But the son of the slave was born according to the flesh, while the son of the free woman was born through promise. Now this may be interpreted allegorically: these women are two covenants. One is from Mount Sinai, bearing children for slavery; she is Hagar. Now Hagar is Mount Sinai in Arabia; she corresponds to the present Jerusalem, for she is in slavery with her children. But the Jerusalem above is free, and she is our mother.

Jim Broyles - Talk is NOT Cheap

In fear of contradicting everything you have ascertained during pre-game interviews with athletes (which I know everyone writes on his heart), I must assert that talk is indeed NOT cheap.  Performance on the court will determine the winner of the game, and someone's daily life would certainly indicate many things about that person, but words are not cheap.  And I am not referring to lawyer salaries or the prices people pay for professional word-smithing.  I am referring to the "from the mouth overflows the heart".  

When I got married about a year and a half ago, I gained something I had never had before: a captive audience.  It was not that I always wanted someone to hear about everything I was thinking, it just so happened that now some one was right in front of me.  Over a short period of time I began to say things that for many years were just thoughts of mine, both of little or great consequence, without a filter for what needed saying.  In my mind, each utterance, big or small, deserved the same attention from my wife.  I cannot begin to convey the amazing musings I had about the essence of stain-resistant pants or the way a t-shirt must be folded.  Each topic deserved as must attention as the next, primarily because I was the one saying it.  But over time, giving value to everything I said began to devalue other words, and I started to speak with a flippant tongue.

The Language We Once Spoke, Timothy McConnell

My doctoral supervisor, Robert Wilken, is fond of calling the Bible "a carried book."  It never just sits there in a vacuum, he says, it is always handed to you by someone.  And as they hand it to you, some claim, some context, some tradition, is handed down along with it.  Of course, Prof. Wilken is talking about grand claims in historical theology.  But the universal is also particular--the grand claims also play out in our lives.  I like the image, and it made me think of all of those people who have handed the Bible down to me over the years.  All the pastors, all the Young Life and FOCUS leaders, all the Bible study leaders, friends and relatives, who have at one point or another handed me a bit of Scripture, some little fragment of light from the Word of God, and said, Here, I think this applies.

This morning, the Scriptures were handed to me by a student at Darden School of Business here at the University of Virginia.  Apparently it's the greatest business school in the world (that's what I hear from the students anyway).  I support the Christian Fellowship there, and we had an early morning Bible Study.  So much of the Christian life is about learning to read the Bible right where we are.  Read the Bible in the hospital.  Read the Bible in the living room.  Read the Bible in Darden.  He carried in a little bit of Nehemiah, and we all read it.  He handed it to us and said, here, I think this applies.

Darden students are busy people.  I think it's how they prepare them for the pace of American business.  They've learned to cram a lot into their day.  And the most important thing to cram in is just a few minutes of Scripture to remind them of the far country to which they belong, the Kingdom of God, and to remind them of the language that is spoken there.

Paul Joiner: Tangerines and the Work of the Kingdom

I live in Florida and have a tangerine tree in my yard. I love this tree. I can sit outside, pick a handful of its fruit, throw the peel on the ground, and see how far I can spit the seeds. It bears good fruit.

This tree straddles my property line, and my neighbor and I have different philosophies on how to get the best fruit from our tree. Every three months I fertilize it. When it’s dry, I water it. When other trees encroach on its sunlight, I prune them back.

My neighbor is hands-off in his approach. He says, “I figure God will provide all that that tree needs.”

Well, that sounds pretty spiritual (he’s not a Christian). But, then I look in my shed and think – I have fertilizer, water, and pruning sheers so that I can nourish and nurture this tree to bear fruit.

Esther L. Meek; Psalm Writing 107

Take a look, if you will, at Psalm 107. There are some things about this psalm that intrigue me, and suggest a project.

First of all, between the opening and the closer, it’s got stanzas, and the stanzas have a structure, so people could fill in the blanks and contribute their own stanzas:

Some …..(your experience here—your stupidity, your sin, your business project, your going off to college, your kidnapping…)…..

They (or, For they) …..(what happened to you as a result, or why it happened, here)…..

(Optional: add a line or two of further description here.)

Then they cried out to the LORD in their trouble,

And he delivered them from their distress. (No blanks to fill in here; it’s the same climax of every stanza!)

He ......(how God delivered you here)…..

Let them give thanks to the LORD for his unfailing love

And his wonderful deeds for men, (this isn’t optional, either)

For He (or Let them (cont.))…..(pick one and get a wee bit jubilant and poetic here)…

This first line just cracks me up, when I imagine writing my own stanza, and you writing your personal stanzas, to think of starting off the narration by referring to ourselves as “Some…”: Some had to leave their home and move to start a job…. Or, Some searched through first semester to find friends and made some bad choices… Or, Some had parents who got divorced… In Psalm 107, some of the Somes recount sinful rebellion. But some don’t. Some recount good beginnings or hard developments that have nothing to do with sin. It’s not a bad thing to go to the sea in ships.

Bill Wilder, His transfiguration--and ours

This past Sunday, August 6th, was the Feast of the Transfiguration of Christ.

I know that, because—though I am not Episcopalian—I have come to treasure the daily prayers and Scripture readings in the Book of Common Prayer (1928 or 1945). So, on Sunday last, the Collect for the Transfiguration of Christ came as a pleasant surprise to this liturgical neophyte.

And yet, on another level, I was a bit disappointed as well. It seemed to me that the Collect, while beautifully crafted and deeply true, actually missed the main point of the transfiguration, a point suggested by the very Scripture readings mandated for the day (in the 1945 BCP).

Put simply, I am convinced that the transfiguration is not so much a revelation of the deity of our Lord Jesus as it is a preview of his coming human glory in the resurrection and ascension. The transfiguration is not so much a call to escape this world into the worship of the divine (“being delivered from the disquietude of this world”) as it is an astounding picture of God invading this world and imbuing it (and us) with his transformative presence.

Bill Wilder, An Apology for N. T. Wright

A dear friend and I disagree on N. T. Wright. And I’m wondering why.

   

It’s not that I’m unaware of the issues involved. I’ve had a few words to say about that as well. Indeed, I have my differences with the good bishop too.

   

What puzzles me is not the disagreement, I suppose. At least some of that is inevitable. So what’s the word I’m looking for? Not disdain, in this case. Though there does seem to be an appalling contempt for Wright in some quarters, my friend is much too generous a spirit for that. It’s… a distaste, I think. A sense that much of what Tom Wright is serving up is simply not nearly as nourishing and palatable as the traditional fare.

   

It’s that distaste (if that’s the right word) that I find hard to square with my own experience. Of course, there’s the fact that I just like the man. He did sit through a lunch or two with me when he visited the Center for Christian Study a few years ago, patiently answering questions and generally indulging my theological curiosity. And I myself was able to explain a few things to him as well—mainly, I confess, a few muttered words about a “venerable UVa tradition” as we witnessed a student in running shoes (so he wasn’t completely naked) making the long jog down the Lawn to Homer’s statue and back. 

   

OK, that’s superficial. So how do I convey what’s really important?

Paul Yanosy, Responding to Ligon Duncan on Egalitarianism

Background to this post:
On their blog Mark Dever, Ligon Duncan and Al Mohler advance the position that an egalitarian (as opposed to complementarian) view of women in leadership in the church is not merely an area where orthodox believers of good will can reasonably disagree, but rather the egalitarian view “is effectively an undermining of -- a breach in -- the authority of Scripture.”  A discussion on CGO over Mark Dever’s post appears here.  Ligon Duncan then lent his support to Mark Dever’s position, based on four main arguments.  Al Mohler soon followed, affirming the observations and conclusions.  CJ Mahaney’s post has now moved on to “application.”   
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Recognizing I am far out of my league in terms of theological education or pastoral experience, I want to try and untangle and then understand the arguments these men have  advanced. I hold each of these men in high regard; yet I am uneasy with their heart-felt conviction on this issue -- not the conviction that the complimentarian view is correct, but that anything else amounts to a rejection of the authority of Scripture. 

 I am uneasy because, as we remain in conversation with the world our God desires to redeem, we live in the middle -- called to bear the Good News, but also needing it ourselves. Therefore sometimes our sincere convictions are spot on and backed by the broad testimony of Scripture (Jesus is the Messiah), and other times they are a product of our historical locatedness, blind spots or sin (solar system theory as in conflict with Scripture; slavery / racial superiority as part of God’s ordering).  It is only through conversation, testing and the continual refinement of God’s Word on us by his Spirit that we discern which is which. To cut off this conversation --especially between those who share many of the same convictions regarding the authority of Scripture -- is a step not to be taken lightly. 

Which Differences in Interpretation Undermine the Authority of Scripture?

Mark Dever posted a piece yesterday in which he writes, "Well then" you might say "why don't you leave this issue of complementarianism at the level of baptism or church polity?  Surely you cooperate with those who disagree with you on such matters." Because, though I could be wrong, it is my best and most sober judgment that this position is effectively an undermining of--a breach in--the authority of Scripture. As Lig the paedo-baptist has often said "If there were a verse in I Timothy saying 'I do not permit an infant to be baptized . . .' we wouldn't be having this conversation about baptism!  There is such a verse about women serving as teacher/elders!"  (Bold face emphasis mine, not Dever's.)

(Read the whole post here.)

I respect Dever a great deal-- he's very bright and he is very well read. He's a pastor-theologian who continues to apply his mind to scholarship. For the academically inclined who might disdain Dever's two masters’ degrees from two evangelical seminaries, his BA is from Duke and his DPhil is from Cambridge. 

His post raises questions for me: what differences in interpretation are allowable within the bounds of orthodox Christianity and why (or on what basis is the determination made?)?

A year ago, Dever's friend and colleague in many enterprises (Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, the Southern Baptist Convention and Together For The Gospel), wrote a post about theological triage.  This is what Mohler wrote about first-order and second-order differences in doctrinal issues.

These first-order doctrines represent the most fundamental truths of the Christian faith, and a denial of these doctrines represents nothing less than an eventual denial of Christianity itself.

The set of second-order doctrines is distinguished from the first-order set by the fact that believing Christians may disagree on the second-order issues, though this disagreement will create significant boundaries between believers. When Christians organize themselves into congregations and denominational forms, these boundaries become evident.

Second-order issues would include the meaning and mode of baptism. Baptists and Presbyterians, for example, fervently disagree over the most basic understanding of Christian baptism. The practice of infant baptism is inconceivable to the Baptist mind, while Presbyterians trace infant baptism to their most basic understanding of the covenant. Standing together on the first-order doctrines, Baptists and Presbyterians eagerly recognize each other as believing Christians, but recognize that disagreement on issues of this importance will prevent fellowship within the same congregation or denomination.

Mohler goes on in the article to write that women's issues in the church are second order. I.e. Christians can hold a difference of opinion on these subjects and still be in the bounds of orthodoxy.