Four things I’m Happy to be Accused of…

It’s a fractious age. Politics has always been divisive, but oh my, that has gone to new levels. Religion has been our second great divide, but even here, the arguments have sharpened and tolerance levels are low. While denominational divides are no longer seen as important, defining the kind of Christian you are is starting to matter, as versions of the Christian faith are becoming widely divergent. This is especially so when religion and politics bubble together in the same pot. A toxic mix of self interest gets God’s name attached to it, even though it is screamingly obvious that it is unlikely to carry the approval of the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.

By nature I am a bit of a people pleaser. I prefer to avoid conflict, especially if it is unnecessary, and I am genuinely comfortable to sit with differences, recognising that your life location makes it natural for you to look at some things differently. Usually I enjoy exploring alternate perspectives, and am often both fascinated and enriched by them – even if I ultimately disagree with them. I try to understand the “why” behind different positions, and to spot the valid concern that might lie behind a poorly constructed argument.

Peaceable harmoniser that I am, even I am finding myself at my limit. You can’t win them all, and you certainly can’t please all the people all the time. After a few unanticipated snide remarks about some of my theological positions, I asked myself, “What don’t you mind being accused of?” I found it a rather liberating question to ask. After all, if you are going to be accused of something, why not try to make sure it is for something you genuinely hold to, rather than some silly caricature that in no way represents your view.

I came up with a longish list, but as I like my readers to read my blogs to the end, I have limited this post to four…

Feel free to accuse me of…

Saying that God’s love is far, far greater than we imagine. Absolutely. Please say this about my theology. I’d be pretty devastated if you didn’t. I’m tired of those who feel they have to balance every comment about God’s love with a reminder of God’s justice, hatred of sin and righteous anger – as if each of those is not driven by God’s overwhelming love. Of course God hates sin… as a loving God would because of its destructive impact on us all. And of course God is righteously angry at the terrible things we far too often do. And of course God is committed to justice, though not tit for tat justice, as though it is about carefully balancing some arbitrary ledger. Rather it is loving justice, or justice that loves so much that it transforms – or restorative justice as it is sometimes called. It is the justice of the Cross, where, as Isaac Watts puts it, “Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all.” In response to love, I desire much needed forgiveness. Only love gives me the confidence to ask for it.

The simple truth is that you can say “God is love” without needing a hundred qualifiers, but you can’t say “God is just”, or “God hates sin” or “God is a judge” without careful elaboration on why that is not the last word. They all point back to the higher concept, the astounding love of God. Paul claims that only three things remain – faith, hope and love, and that the greatest of these three is love (1 Cor 13:13). So yes, God’s love is far greater than we imagine, and that truth is not going to go away. God is love is both the first word and the last word. It is the song of praise that reverberates through the Universe, and it is a song of astonishing beauty. Let’s sing it well.

Accusation 2: Saying that God has a special concern for those on the margins. Yup – do accuse me of that, because it’s true at both levels, namely that I say it, and that I’m right in saying it. Those who know the history of liberation theology will remember that the debate started with the claim that God is on the side of the poor. It’s a defensible claim, but perhaps a little too militant and one eyed, as though God is only on the side of the poor. Actually, the biblical witness is that God so loved the world (poor, rich and in the middle), as John 3:16 so poignantly reminds us. God is always for us, not against us… not in some shallow give them whatever they want way, but in desiring our deepest good. But some are far more vulnerable than others. From the laws of harvest gleaning (Lev 19:9-10 – don’t harvest your field right to the edge, or check your orchard twice to ensure you got it all; rather leave some behind for those who don’t have enough, like foreigners and the poor), to the repeated refrain to care for orphans and widows (e.g. James 1:27), to the concern for refugees (Lev 19:33-34) and Jesus’s declaration that the widows mite was more valuable than the rich man’s offering (Mk 12:41-44), there is a sharp lookout for those on the edges, those whose circumstances make them specially vulnerable. Does God have a special concern for them. Yes, yes and yes again. That doesn’t mean they are perfect, but in practical terms it meant that Jesus was willing to answer the question, “when did we see you hungry, naked or in prison?” with a definite, when ever you saw the least of these hungry naked or in prison, you saw me… What you did for the least, you did for me (Matt 25:31-46).

Does this matter? Of course it does. Does it mean we must stare down those who say we’re going woke because we think that God cares for refugees, the poor and the vulnerable. Of course it does. Because the God of the Bible stares them down, and is totally unimpressed by their heartless self interest.

Accusation 3: Saying that the Bible is an adult book. Because it is… No that is not over complicating things. To the contrary, it simplifies things enormously. It says that we must read the Bible as adults – recognising that time, culture, context and author intent must be taken into consideration when interpreting its meaning. It reminds us that simplistic proof texting does a disservice to the goal of understanding the Bible. It reminds us that it isn’t about slavishly trying to reproduce the way it happened back then, but as adults asking what the underlying principles guiding decisions were, and then exploring how those principles work their way out in a radically different context. It’s about allowing for the humanity of the text, ironically recognising that it is through it’s humanity that it’s divinity shines though (that God should use such frail and flawed humans as you and I). And as it’s the greatest of all texts, of course there are a fair few paradoxes we can’t get our heads around, and mysteries we can’t possibly explain. Instead of that frustrating us, we can thank God for inviting us to a stretch we are not fully able to make. It’s ok to say in humility, “at this point, that’s a passage we simply don’t get…”

Accusation 4: Saying that Col 1:17 is my favourite verse. For those who can’t recite it off pat, “He [Jesus] is before all things, and in him all things hold together.” OK, there are lots of wonderful verses in our adult book, the Bible. And I am a little more flexible about this one, because we are all entitled to our favourite. But why do I keep coming back to this? Because I find the truth of it overwhelming. And if you allow yourself to run ahead and tag v18-20, the case becomes even stronger… “And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.” Wow – that’s enough to keep you busy for over a 100 sermons. But it’s the underlying idea I keep coming back to – that in Jesus, everything holds together. In short, without Jesus, things don’t really make sense. Jesus is the meaning maker of all of reality. Does it mean I try to read every biblical passage with a Christological lens? Yes, because only in Jesus do all things hold together. Does it mean I keep asking the “what would Jesus do” question? Yes, because only in Jesus do all things hold together. Jesus himself said, “I am the way, the truth and the life” (Jhn 14:6) – the way, the truth, the life, and it’s all linked back to the incarnated Jesus who invites us to call him our friend. Why – because God’s love is far, far greater than we imagine…

And so we are back to the beginning. In a fractious world, I for one, don’t mind if people accuse me of pointing to a God whose love is greater, who has a special concern for those on the margins, who has left us with an adult book, and whose Son Jesus, holds all of reality together. What would you like to be accused of this week?

Nice chatting…

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