What has Jerusalem to do with Athens, the Church with the Academy, the Christian with the heretic?

These are the famous (or infamous) words of Tertullian, the dogmatic defender of the early church. Tertullian is asking the rhetorical question with the implied, emphatic answer of “absolutely nothing.” Quite simply, he is asking: What does faith (Christianity) have to do with philosophy? We know of course that philosophy quite literally means “the love of wisdom” – but Tertullian seemed to have in mind the Greek philosophies of his day, including Aristotle’s dialectical philosophy, which were the fuel for many heresies. But it also seems that Tertullian is referring to any kind of reasoning or speculation which goes beyond that of an everyday commonsensical kind of thinking. For that reason, and for the sake of this paper, I will broadly define “philosophy” as any form of sophisticated reasoning or inquiry which is most often found in Hellenistic thought. Tertullian saw the gospel as sufficient. “After the gospel of Jesus Christ we have no need of speculation, after the Gospel no need of research,” wrote Tertullian.¹ After faith in Jesus Christ and a reliance on Scripture, nothing else is needed to do theology, in Tertullian’s mind.

Tertullian was a native of Carthage, North Africa – born just a little more than a century after Christ’s death – when the Christian church was still defining its boundaries. He studied law in Rome before becoming a stalwart defender of the faith at a later age. Like a true lawyer, he took many early heresies to court in order to defend what he considered the orthodox faith and to prosecute those who sought to distort it. Tertullian saw many issues in black and white and very rarely in shades of grey. He saw all philosophical systems as antithetical to Christian theology.

By no means has this debate become any less relevant in our day – whether it goes under the label of “faith vs. reason” or “religion vs. science” it still concerns the same basic question that Tertullian raised several hundred years ago. We see many modern Christians taking sides at opposite ends of the spectrum: some siding with Tertullian (even though they may have never heard of him) and shunning all worldly wisdom and those at the other end who accept Christ but also pop-psychology, New Age spiritualism, and any other religious or philosophical system that may give them another nugget of wisdom. Then there are those somewhere in the middle who can see the merit in both biblical theology and philosophy, yet do not know how to reconcile one with the other.

So what does Jerusalem have to do with Athens? I will attempt to answer that question as sufficiently as I can in this brief essay. Tertullian’s case will be presented first, followed by the antithesis of that case, and then I will conclude with my own attempt at a synthesis of the two.

Tertullian held to the “Rule of Faith” which included the apostolic tradition and the Apostle’s Creed, but of course he also held to Christian scripture as the revealed Word of God. Colossians 2:8 was an exemplar text for him as it seems to speak explicitly against philosophy, in defense of the gospel. The text reads: “See to it that no one takes you captive through philosophy and empty deception, according to the tradition of men, according to the elementary principles of the world, rather than according to Christ.”² Tertullian believed that the Bible was absolutely clear about how Christians should deal with worldly wisdom; it shouldn’t be given a second thought. Heresy creeps in when we allow ourselves to be tantalized by secular philosophies and non-Christian religious practices. The dialectical philosophical method of Aristotle, with its manner of debating both sides of every issue, was considered particularly damaging. Tertullian didn’t think that Christians needed any sort of method; the gospel was simply to be preached and accepted. Those Christians who were persuaded by other worldviews were shown to have lacked faith in the true gospel to begin with. Believing in the gospel is definitive, final, and nonnegotiable. Tertullian certainly would have found Thomas Aquinas’s method of theological inquiry unacceptable; as the quote above stated, “…there is no need of research.”  He allowed the prophets, apostles and Jesus Himself to be his mentors – he believed he needed no others. And, some would say, isn’t this the attitude that all Christians should take? Especially among Protestants, hasn’t our motto always been sola scriptura? Tertullian’s distrust of philosophy was not simply an attitude isolated within his time. In every age there has been at least a small contingent of theologians who cling to scripture as the sole source of revelation. And we cannot forget Karl Barth’s stern refusal of natural theology (i.e. knowing God through nature instead of through direct or “special revelation”) and insistence upon the Word of God in the 20^th century. Liberal Protestantism lost much of its steam in the past hundred years because philosophy and anthropology were getting in the way of authentic theology. Wherever scripture is downplayed spiritualism and anthropocentrism are likely to creep in.

While most of what Tertullian said seems appropriate when faced with the possible distortion of the essence of Christianity, we run into trouble when we take an anti-philosophical stance and apply it to every context. Tertullian’s interpretation of Colossians 2:8 and other similar texts fall in line with his cross-contextual application of philosophy as a harmful entity. However, we must remember that context is indeed key when interpreting scripture and very rarely should any given verse be applied broadly and systematically unless it is supported by several other texts throughout scripture. The epistle of Colossians was written specifically to the church in Colossae of Asia Minor sometime just before the year 50 AD. The author (the authorship of Paul is not agreed upon by all scholars) is addressing himself to those who might lose their solid foundation in Christ and be carried away by, not only “philosophy,” but also, “…empty deception according to the tradition of men, according to the elementary principles of the world…” which likely included Jewish mysticism, proto-Gnosticism, and local religious practices.³ When Tertullian made the statement: “What has Jerusalem to do with Athens?” he was singling out Athenian, or more broadly, Hellenistic philosophy as the antithesis of Christianity – yet this doesn’t seem to be quite what the epistle’s author is getting at. Rather than singling out Greek philosophy, the author lists various types of worldviews which have the potential to do something dangerous. Given the context, the word “philosophy” in this verse may simply be another name for empty deception, human traditions, and worldly principles – none of which can be defined with much accuracy. The point of the text (and the entire chapter) is that the people of the church of Colossae should not be shaken from their foundation in Christ by anything that the unbelieving people around them tempt them with. I completely agree. Whether or not this falls in line with philosophy as Tertullian understood it is unclear based on the text alone. He has to assume the writer of the epistle is saying something which is not explicitly stated.

As far as modern theologians who would consider themselves anti-philosophical are concerned, is seems that few of them fail to see the philosophical language and methods that they use in their own work. Take the term “paradox”, for instance.  The word paradox is used quite often in philosophical literature but this word is found nowhere in the Bible, yet it is used by theologians of all types to describe the Trinity, the humanity of Christ, and other puzzling doctrines. And if philosophy is to be defined as a sophisticated form of reasoning and inquiry, don’t most modern systematic theologies seem rather philosophical? And if so, should most modern theologies be written off as heretical? I believe the answer is yes to the former and no to the latter.

From a purely biblical point of view, I don’t believe that we should fret ourselves about philosophical language or dialogue if we consider Paul’s attitude towards it. Paul broke down many boundaries when it came to communicating the gospel with different people groups as well as with people of various worldviews; he did not limit himself to just Torah-believing Jews. He also spoke to Gentiles of all types – from the lowest to the highest echelon of society. We see him dialoging with Stoic and Epicurean philosophers at Athens (the very place Tertullian says that Christians shouldn’t be meddling with) in Acts 17. It is important to note the method that Paul used in Athens. He said that upon passing through the town he saw an inscription that said: “To an Unknown god.” After being brought to the famous Areopagus and being questioned by curious philosophers, he responds by saying that what the Athenians worship in ignorance is really the one, true God who is ever-present – a reality they dwell with on a daily basis. Paul does not refuse to speak with the philosophers or to be taken to a place known for “idle” philosophical debate. He dialogues with the philosophers where they are at both a physical and intellectual level. He doesn’t compromise, but he also doesn’t shrink from this high-flown intellectual environment. So it seems that the question becomes: what kind of philosophical dialogue is acceptable for Tertullian?  Obviously Tertullian sees Paul’s dialogue with philosophers as acceptable, so it seems that not even Tertullian is averse to dialoging with philosophical types as long as the goal of that conversation is unapologetically represented. But should philosophy always be relegated to an antagonistic position as it relates to Christianity?

St. Anselm seemed to think not when he uttered the famous phrase that Christianity is a “faith seeking understanding.” Once we have faith as a freely given gift by God, it is our job to seek out and to understand what that faith implies. While I disagree with some of Anselm’s philosophical methods (i.e. attempting to prove God’s existence), I do agree with the idea that philosophy can aid in the understanding of theology. Those who do not have faith in Christ are groping in the darkness because they do not know the source of the truth which they seek; therefore philosophy can never be used to “get to” God. For knowledge of Truth one must start with theology, and then allow philosophy to come in as a guide to one’s thinking, but never a rule. The medieval thinkers rightly understood theology to be the “Queen of the Sciences” – not a servant or squire to a more noble discipline. Once the role of faith/theology is rightly understood, Christians can feel free to delve into philosophical inquiry and to use philosophical methods which bolster Christian doctrines. In answer to Tertullian, there should not be an impenetrable dividing line between “Jerusalem [and] Athens” or “the Church [and] the Academy.” Rather, Athens and the academy may help to illuminate Jerusalem and the Church. In doing this we are released from the implicit idea that Christian intellectuals should leave their brains at the door of the church (or anywhere else, for that matter). The apostle Paul and John, the Gospel writer, seemed to understand this, as they were two of the greatest contemplative minds of the early church. After them, Anselm, Augustine, Aquinas, and many others who followed understood that sophisticated reasoning and inquiry were not antithetical to the gospel of Jesus Christ. All Truth is indeed God’s Truth.

When Tertullian asked his question, “What has Jerusalem to do with Athens…?” several hundred years ago, he was in the midst of combatting heresies which threatened to destroy the very fabric of the still-young Christian church. He considered philosophy to be the culprit and perhaps he was right if philosophy was seen as a replacement for faith in Christ. However, as I have argued, philosophy doesn’t have to be the great enemy of theology if both disciplines are understood in their rightful places. Philosophy can be a wonderful treasure if only we, the disciples of Jesus Christ, could be faithful and responsible stewards of it.

I don’t think that one has to take one and leave the other. There are some who despise all tradition and history – thinking it to be useless and boring – the unwanted remnants of a by-gone age. They see the present and the future as being the most important time in human history – the only time in which real meaning can be found.

And of course there are others who think that the future is a frightening, chaotic time in which the state of humanity will worsen. They see any progress or change as threatening to their established worldviews and ways of living. The “forefathers” are the only reliable guides along with the systems in which they established a long time ago when people were supposedly more sensible.

But to authentically and effectively seek Truth, I think one needs a good grasp of both tradition and progression; holding onto the best of the past while being open to future developments. History is an extremely valuable source of information, but it can be misused when people want to apply what they’ve learned of history directly to the present time. Blind traditionalism is dangerous; we must always know the reasons why we think or do things. The answer to questions of practice should never be: Because that’s how it’s always been done. Rather, tradition should be a meaningful and authentic expression of the past that is shared by a group of people who understand it and who have agreed to allow it to have some authority in their lives.

On the flip side, progressivism becomes dangerous when it rejects all tradition and pre-established frameworks in the name of newness, or worse, trendiness. It runs the risk of becoming glamorous, yet hallow. Knowledge leads to wisdom and knowledge must build upon itself. To cut out all of history is to rob oneself of a storehouse of knowledge and experience. History is the springboard on which progression takes flight. Progressiveness should be a purposeful and intelligent movement that acknowledges and respects the past, while breaking out of the comfort zones that have so delicately lulled us to sleep.

The best way I can find to identify my state of religious belief is to say that I am a Progressive Christian; of course that, too, needs a lot of clarification. Progressive tends to carry the connotation of being “liberal”. I don’t see it that way, at least not for myself. Whereas “liberal” carries with it a set of tenets – politically, theologically, and otherwise – I see progressive as an adjective rather than a proper noun – or a thing in itself. To progress is to explore, to move forward, to be open to new ideas as they present themselves; that is where I’m at spiritually. I am a follower of Christ and therefore a Christian, yet I also hold very loosely all of the tradition and dogma that comes with “orthodox” Christianity. I want to keep my eyes on the horizon.

I could also say that I am progressively Christian or progressing toward that which a Christian should be – i.e. a “little Christ” as C.S. Lewis liked to say. Theologians would call this progressive sanctification. The idea of progressing towards being a Christian brings with it much-needed humility as well as a sense of action; not ever staying put. A Christian should never be absolutely content for very long. It’s okay to be joyful and pleased with one’s progress, but it is never okay to sit in that, to get comfortable and not want to move anymore. My educated guess is that God does not want to more through a dead stump – He’d much rather move through a growing tree.

I have always believed in an Absolute Truth which comes from God, but lately I have become more sympathetic to the idea of subjective truth – a truth held deeply by an individual that cannot be explained or (in some cases) applied to someone else. While human beings do have the ability to reason, our reasoning abilities always have a limit; no one is capable of absolute, objective reasoning, therefore no one can know Absolute Truth as only God knows it. In this way all truth is relative to the way in which we experience or perceive it. However, this is not to say that humanity exists in a state of Relativism, in which everyone has their own “truths” without any sense of any over-arching Truth that lies behind all things. While I do not believe that we can literally “know” Absolute Truth, I do think it’s important to acknowledge its existence; otherwise all social systems, religion being one, would fall apart. Without a consensus on the existence of truth there is no possibility for consensus. The goal or purpose of every individual is to reach the Ideal, even if the Ideal will never be reached in this life. That does not mean that we stop studying and seeking new knowledge, rather that realization should cause us to want to study and inquire all the more.

For Christians to declare scripture “inerrant” seems to be an over step of the limits of human reasoning. When a human being interacts with any form of reality that form necessarily becomes errant or effected in some way by the human. Human perception distorts Reality.  I don’t know that this is necessarily a bad thing – I guess that depends on one’s view of original sin and its effects – but it should be accepted as a basic condition of humanity that God has allowed to perpetuate throughout history.

True Objectivity and Inerrancy only exist in God’s mind, not ours.

I just got through reading James K.A. Smith’s Who’s Afraid of Postmodernism?: Taking Derrida, Foucault, and Lyotard to Church. This was a very good primer for understanding the “unholy trinity” (Smith’s words) of postmodern French philosophers – critiqued through the lense of a Christian.  Smith himself is Reformed and an advocate of what he calls “Radical Orthodoxy” – in which the church is to recover its roots (not just scriptural, but also traditional) in a very catholic (with a small “c”) fashion. His Reformed bent obviously informs his critiques of the respective philosophies. Smith goes through each one of the philosophical tag lines then presents what he believes is the way in which the church has interpreted them, and finally puts forth what he believes to be the best, most useful tenets of postmodernism for the church today.

Derrida. With Derrida’s statements that “there is nothing outside the text,” many Christians have taken this in a very relativistic sense; thinking that Derrida does not believe in absolute truth, but that everything is simply “a text” to be read or interpreted. I appreciated Smith’s critique of Derrida, saying that, for Derrida, “interpretation goes all the way down” – in other words, when humans interact with a text an interpretation will always result, rather than an “objective” truth. I completely agree with this. Every person puts their subjective spin on revelations they receive from the Bible or even from God Himself; therefore, outside of the text of interpretation, there is nothing – at least not from a human perspective. This is not to say there is no such thing as absolute truth, but that the fullness of truth can never be completely known by a human being. If Smith’s interpretation of Derrida is true, then I agree with him (Derrida) – at least on this point.

Lyotard. Lyotard said that “postmodernism is incredulity toward meta narratives.” Supposedly one of the first to start talking about postmodernism, Lyotard is a good source to go to regarding its tenets. Christians tend to take offense at Lyotard’s statement because it seems to be saying that grand narratives, such as the biblical narrative, are nonexistent or overblown, at best. Smith does not disagree with Lyotard’s statement in the sense that he does not believe Christianity to be a meta-narrative; a narrative, yes, but not one which includes all of humanity or views the events of history as a singular saga. This seems to be where the “tribal identity” idea of postmodernism originated, in which each tribe or society determines what is right for its own group; absolute statements about humanity have no place. Here, I can definitely see where Smith’s Reformed mindset influences his affirmative understanding of Lyotard. As a Calvinist, Smith would have to believe that only a certain group of people, the elect, are participating in God’s narrative and the rest have their own narratives to follow. However, I feel that this may be a very narrow view of how God interacts with humanity; one must respect the “bigness” of God.  But I’m not completely sure what Lyotard means by “meta-narrative” – so I would need to do more research on the point.

Foucault. Foucault’s famous statement was, “Power is knowledge.” He believed that those who had power controlled what was considered “knowledge.” Some Christians do not like this seemingly neutral, matter-of-fact statement about society; it is very similar to Nietzsche’s “will to power.” To think that is okay for knowledge to be brokered by those who have the power, rather than by biblical authority or the voice of the church is obviously dangerous and bad for the idea of revelation. According to Smith, there are two different ways to interpret Foucault:

1) He is simply making an observation about society, without any sort of negative or positive regard for it (no value judgments); or

2) He is subtly advocating against this reality and wishes to reform it. In this respect, Smith believes Foucault is a modernist because he is an advocate of individual autonomy.

I believe, as does Smith, that Foucault is a modernist who wishes to bring our attention to this negative system of society so that we may act to change it. Smith says that many Emergent-type churches have taken Foucault’s ideas and applied them practically in a way that emphasizes extreme individuality and the autonomy of the local church. Emergent churches, thinking themselves to be postmodern, are actually very modern, according to Smith. This may be true, but I don’t necessarily think this is a bad thing.

One of my main critiques of Smith is that he seems to think that postmodernism is something that all Christians should strive to embrace and therefore everything that is modern is automatically bad. While I do agree that there is a lot about modernism that the church needs to break away from, I don’t believe that everything postmodern is automatically good or beneficial. I like Foucault’s skeptical view of the power structures of society and emphasis on individual autonomy, so according to Smith, that makes me a staunch modernist! Whether that’s true or not, I don’t really care. It seems that postmodern has become just another label that people are either thrown into or that people voluntarily throw themselves into.

Despite my sporadic criticisms of Smith, I’m really glad I read this book because it opened my eyes to the basic tenets  of supposed postmodern thought and it also gave me a healthy skepticism of the whole “modern” and “postmodern” distinction. There doesn’t seem to be any widespread consensus about what postmodernism actually is and, as Smith points out, many postmoderns are actually moderns!

To me (in my limited understanding so far) postmodernism is not necessarily an anti-modernism, rather it serves as a critique to modern thought; it questions the very fabric of that thought, but doesn’t always make judgement calls as to the “right” direction that we should take. From a Christian perspective, I believe that framing the debate of how to get back to an authentic Christianity is not best served by speaking in terms of modern vs. postmodern, as this tends to confuse people even more. What is needed is a recovery of what Jesus intended for the church within the society in which we live – whether that be modern, postmodern, or whatever!

I am beginning to think not.

Obedience is something that Christians should always want to work  towards, but I don’t necessarily think it is something that does or should come automatically. After having to examine the Old Testament more closely these past few months I have come across characters that don’t always do what God wants them to right away…or they do and life goes bad for them. They struggle with God and His revelations to them.

The shadowy wrestling match at the Jabbok River in Genesis 32 illustrates perfectly the Divine-human struggle. God and man are constantly contesting one another. Man is always searching for blessing – God is always testing the resiliance and initiative of man. What I find most interesting about the wrestling match between Jacob and “the man” (who is later called God) is that God is the one who enters into the fight. God voluntarily steps out of the Divine realm and meets man where he’s at. He wants a confrontation . . . he encourages a fight. As a result of this fight Jacob finally gets his blessing, but he leaves the struggle with a dislocated hip to remind him that he is still a man and that he has just come “face to face” with the living God. As a result, God changes Jacob’s name to Israel, meaning in Hebrew: “one who struggles with God,” and Jacob’s identity is forever changed.

What I have realized lately is that it is better to fight with God than to completely disregard Him or to act as if He never did anything for me. I have struggled with my faith. I have asked serious questions of God. But I have to think that God prefers this to some mechanical obedience on one hand or a complete ignorance of Him on the other.

Right now I am struggling with God, searching for answers – not knowing where those answers will lead. Sometimes I don’t agree with God. Sometimes I want to yell at Him and prod Him to make things better. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing. While there are moments of anger and severe doubt about what He’s doing – what I like to do most is sit in silence and not say anything at all; to take in the fact that He is God and I am not. I know that God is good and He will always bring about what is best for His creation. I think one day I won’t have to struggle anymore. But until then, I’m ready to wrestle with God.

Now, I don’t necessarily mean marriage to a man or a woman, but I do mean a marriage to God. We are all spiritual beings – we can’t escape that – therefore we are all potential “brides” of God (yes, even the dudes). None of us are complete in and of ourselves; we need to be made one with Him.

I think its fair to say that all those who have given their hearts to Christ are engaged to God. Its as if our salvation experience was the proposal and our subsequent lives are a preparation for our eventual marriage to God.

I think that God uses the ideal earthly marriage to illustrate for us what our spiritual union with Him should/will look like. Preparation for an earthly marriage involves a strengthening of character; a maturation process. Marriage requires maturity in both the man and the woman in order for it to operate with any amount of cohesiveness. Compromises and sacrifices have to be made. One’s empathy and responsiveness must be deep. An attitude of unconditional service and love must be had. No obstacle must be too great as to trump the relationship. Children are notoriously bad at doing these sorts of things. That is why it is often said that marriage isn’t for boys – it’s for men. In a sense, one’s entire life leading up to marriage of one’s mate is a preparation and maturation process. In the same way, the reason for our lives here on earth is a preparation for marriage with God. We are not ready to meet Him yet, but we will be one day.

I see in my own life a need for maturation before I can even think about dating again or looking towards marriage. It may even be in God’s will that I remain single for the rest of my life. I have to accept that. Rather than viewing that as a negative, I can use that time and energy that I would have spent focusing on a wife, to focus on God and my impending marriage with Him. Paul speaks of this in the context of his being single in 1 Corinthians. Paul did not live his life begrudgingly because he was single, rather he was joyful at the prospect of pursuing God and being wooed by God.

It’s strange for some to think in these terms, but this is the message of the entire Bible. I am not much of a romantisist, but I believe that our lives are one big story… a love story.

To quickly review, I believe that the bulk of Christians today are constructionists – those who subscribe to the traditional or “orthodox” Christian doctrine and practice. Then there is a minority that isn’t very noticeble (especially in the media) but is becoming more and more influential – the deconstructionists. These are Christians who have all but denied Jesus Christ himself and have undertaken to rethink their faith in order that they may come to something that is more authentic, more personal. And lastly there are the re-constructionists – those who have been through the deconstructive process and have come out on “the other side” with a faith that they can readily apply to their individual lives as well as corporately. In my opinion, there are very, very few re-constructionists – but I do know that there are a faithful few who are experimenting and braving “new” ground within the Christian faith.

Due to a personal conviction, I believe that it is time for me to begin a deconstruction of my Christian faith. This may sound negative or troubling to many, but I believe it is the only way to a truly authentic faith that I can “own” and readily defend. For me, deconstruction is not a negative process, but a postive one. I hope that through this, my heart for God and my motivation to love Him and serve people would grow.

My definition of deconstruction is this:

Deconstruction is the deliberate, controlled dismantling of long-held and/or popular doctrines and practices within Christianity. This is done through intensive questioning and, when possible, testing of Truth assertions made by authors, teachers, preachers, scholars, and especially my own currently held beliefs. The primary critique will be on traditional, mainline Christianity in all its forms, but I will critique re-constructive efforts as well (Emergent and other fringe movements). Deconstruction is a process that is guided by an individual’s reasoned experience and is done within the context of constant prayer.

When I say reasoned experience I mean the rationalized, as well as experiential, convictions that one has. I absolutely believe that 2+2=4. No one can disuade me from that because it is a rational fact. I also believe that Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior. While I cannot prove this mathematically, I can say from experience that this is Truth because His redemption has touched my life in a such a way that I have never been the same since. There is “evidence”, if  you will, of my spiritual conversion to Christ. My thoughts began to change and my life slowly began to change as well.  While nothing concerning spirituality can be scientifically proven, one’s reasoned experience cannot be discredited or disregarded. So one’s absolute experience coupled with evidence or some outworking of that experience is a reasoned experience. I believe that C.S. Lewis used this method of persuasion most effectively. In his writings he would not necessarily try to prove using science that the Truths of God were apparent nor would he simply shoot from the hip and say what he merely felt to be true. His reasoning went through a very thorough, rational and experiantial process that led to his conclusions about the Christian faith. C.S. Lewis was not a theologian, nor was he even a preacher. He was a “layman” with a mind. We all have our own minds and experiences to draw from…God made it that way.

Something must first make sense on an individual level before it can be implimented externally, or an a corporate level. If we are in constant prayer, our experience and our reasoning should be constantly guided by God – this is why my reasoned experience can be trusted. This is not a reliance simply on feeling. Feeling comes and goes; its fickle. Sometimes I don’t feel close to God, but that doesn’t mean that He has left me. My reasoned experience would tell me that while I may not necessarily feel the presence of God, I am still His and He is still watching over me.

Above all else, I need to honor God in this process. Deconstruction does not mean mocking God or intentionally going against Him. It does not mean halting the idea that goodness should pervade in my life and that I should seek, through prayer, His will in all that I do. Prayer is essential in all of this; I know I will absolutely fail if I do not seek God in prayer.

I love a quote that I read in Dallas Willard’s Divine Conspiracy: “Your system is perfectly designed to produce the results you are getting.”  I feel like the results I’ve been getting in my life are inadequate when I look at the life of Jesus as well as the lives of those who are following Him faithfully. Willard rightly says that we will always act out what we truly believe. If asked to defend most of what I believe about Christianity, I would probably be at a loss for words. A set of beliefs requires more explanation than simply: “the Bible says so.” The system upon which I base my thoughts and my life needs to be dismantled and eventually put back together again – in a more sturdy, authentic way.

I’m not sure how long this process will take. Ideally this is not something that should be life-long, but I’m not going to set a time table on it. I don’t expect every one of my questions to be answered definitively, but I do wish to eventually have a solid frameworkd of belief on which to order my life and thought.

Your prayers are appreciated.

It might be beneficial to define what relationship is, first of all. Dictionary.com defines relationship as:

 1. a connection, association, or involvement. 2. connection between persons by blood or marriage. 3. an emotional or other connection between people: the relationship between teachers and students. 4. a sexual involvement

Human Relationships

Definitions number 1 and 3 are what I want to look at most closely. If you’ll notice all of these definitions have to do with “connection.”  And not just a loose connection.  While we may know the guy who fixes our car by name, that does not mean that we have a relationship with him. Simply knowing does not imply deep connection. To have a relationship with a person requires more than just information, it requires a deep, connective experience. This experience is not a one time event, rather a continual, evolving, growing process. In the human regard, it requries a great amount of trust and vulnerability to allow for any kind of depth. Building relationships is difficult, yet we as humans have to do it; we are compelledto be in relationships of all kinds. We have a deep-seated need for connection. There is an intuitive force that drives us towards other individuals so that we may find meaning and acceptance alongside of them. Human life divorced from relationships quickly becomes meaningless and unfulfilling. This is why being alone is so frightening to many people.

Relationship with Christ

Now this intuitive longing must be an indicator of our need to be in relationship with Jesus. That is why Jesus asks for our “hearts” – not just our minds (thought-life) or our bodies, while those things are also to be brought “to the cross”  He wants our core being.

It is often wondered how so many people can claim to be Christians, yet they do not live lives that are Christ-like in any regard. They equate a mere intellectual understanding of who Christ is with a “relationship” with Him and anyone who calls them out on that is met with the oft-quoted Protestant mantra ” I’m saved by grace alone”  response. Is that really all that the gospel i.e. a relationship with Jesus  really is?

If relationships are built upon trust, vulnerability,  and commitment, then confessing one’s need for a savior one time just doesn’t seem to be enough. Progressive sanctification – the idea that God will do all the work in healing and rebuilding the individual – is often used as an excuse for those who do not really wish to have a relationship with God. They want God to do all the work while they sit back and recieve all the blessings.

But relationship is a two-way street. We play an active part in our sancification. Paul said that he beat his body into subjection daily (1Cor.9:27) – which implies that he was active in his personal renewal in Christ. It seems that Paul was infactuated with Jesus, if I can use that word, to the point of sacrificing his own body and will. Paul, being immersed in the intoxicating love of Christ, was willing to do anything for Him.

Relationship can also be found within the personhood of God Himself. The Trinity is  probably the most elegant display of what relationship is supposed to look like. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are all One, yet distinct in their nature. They are interconnected in such a way that one cannot describe accurately where One ends and the Other begins. There is such unity and compliment between the three that they are correctly and simply referred to as ”I am”.

Conflict

However, all earthly relationships will neccesarily and inevitably involve conflict. This conflict is “natural” because sin is always present and human perception is never 20/20. While conflict is an indirect offspring of sin, it is not something that should be brushed aside or disregarded. Conflict has to be confronted, dissected, and worked through if a relationship is to survive.

All things have been made for relationship, but not all things allow themselves to be in subjection to relationship. This is a reality that God has allowed because true person-hood cannot be had any other way. God takes a risk with us; He is vulnerable, yet remains who He is despite our response. 

I have a lot more to think through about all this, but please feel free to comment!

The constructionists seem to say that we (as a generation) are simply in a long line of Christian tradition that should be carried on and built upon. They see the contemporary church as it is as basically good, with just a few negative points in its history. The evangelical consensus is right and only minor alterations to ecclessiology (the function of the church) need to be made. This comprises the bulk of Christians and is seen through best-selling Christian literature, historic Christian confessions/creeds, and seminary education. The idea is that we can build upon what our “fathers” in the faith have handed down to us and add our own piece to the larger picture. This group tends to systematize, both theoretically (doctrine) and practically (programs), rather than critique or dissassemble. Things are assembled in a hierarchical manner.  Ideas are given labels and they are packaged in a certain way.

On the other hand you have the deconstructionists. This camp is most clearly represented by the emerging or emergent church and is primarily concerned with questioning. They tend to emphasize dialogue over monologue, discussion over proclamation, and curiousity over certainty. From what I know, they tend to be more innovative than historical (not to say that they’re ahistorical) – embracing new ideas and methodologies. They question long-standing traditions and doctrines long held as “orthodox”. They seek to strip away all that has no immediate purpose or meaning in the name of authenticity. Only by breaking down the established system of religion can we truly understand God more fully and live more authentically.

For many people, deconstruction has helped them to understand their relationship to God much more than established religion could have because it shows them that Christianity can be trusted. However, I would venture to say that many don’t emerge from the desconstruction phase with a better understanding of their faith, but are stuck in a cyncial, critical state that doesn’t allow for trust in anything that is “established.” This is a bad thing because we must eventually come to conclusions about why we live and think the way we do.

So it seems that deconstruction can clear out the odds and ends of established religion and make way for something much more authentic and true, but this can only be done if re-construction takes place. Deconstruction creates a void and a space for possibility. That space must be filled with revelation from God. Something positive must come out of the negative.

This is the tension that contemporary Christians live in. How critical should we be about the “fundamentals” of our faith? What exactly are the fundamentals? Should deconstruction take place for each individual or should it be done at the local church level, or academic level? Once we have deconstructed, how do we re-consctruct without making the same mistakes of the past church?

These are questions we need to be willing to ask if we are to live Truly.